Dear lottery ticket buyers: stop it. Every time I pop in to a “convenience” store BECAUSE I AM IN A HURRY AND NEED ONE SMALL THING, there’s some hopeless idiot at the counter getting lottery tickets checked and then buying a new batch. Fuck. Off. If you’re stupid enough to buy lottery tickets, you should be legally required to stand in a dedicated lottery line under a large, neon SUCKERS HERE! sign so the rest of us don’t have to wait BEHIND YOU while you ruin your life.

(Apologies to people whose lives are shitty through no fault of their own.)

Are you imbeciles even aware of the odds? You’re clogging the line for a one in 14 million chance you’ll never again have to come into this shitty, smelly, sticky-floored craphole. One in 14 MILLION. On the other hand, your chances of me giving a shit about your pathetic existence are only one in 8,000; much better odds! Maybe instead of buying a lottery ticket, you should say “hello” to me? The likelihood of your life being enriched is exponentially greater.

WE DON’T JUDGE BUT OUR READERS DO. Queen City Confidential is an open forum for Prairie Dog readers to anonymously share their petty rants, workplace gripes, romantic whining and complaints about some poor stranger who’s just trying to have a little bit of goddamn fun in this world, is that all right by you? Yeah? Yeah? GREAT! E-mail your bile to confidential@prairiedogmag.com (type CONFIDENTIAL in the subject field). Change everyone’s names and identifying details. Submissions must be 100-200 words. You won’t win any prizes but maybe you’ll entertain some stranger. Sound good to you? COOL.