We've had a long, happy relationship. I remember those times, back when we first met in 1998, that you'd send me $20 coupons just because you felt like it. I've stayed loyal to you for years since then, straying only to visit your brick and mortar grandparents on occasion. These days, however, you seem to be coming on a little strong. I'm not going anywhere. There is no need for you to offer me things I like for ridiculously low prices and then ship them to me weeks before you told me you would.
I had planned a weekend in two weeks with no work so that I could install and play Portal. You promised you couldn't get it to me before the 18th, and I trusted you. Imagine my pleasure, followed by a deep-seated dread, when I opened a package containing Portal, shrink-wrapped and calling to me weeks before I expected it. (I should note, here, that you have yet to deliver a textbook to me with the same alacrity. Sometimes I wonder if you are indeed in on the plan to make me leave grad school.). While I do appreciate the sincerity of your efforts, I really would like to graduate some time before I'm 30. So I beg you, dear Amazon, please don't try to further gain my affections. They are yours. Let me do my research in peace.