I Went To Club Monaco to Meet Anna Kendrick

and all I got was this lousy photo.  Black and white?  Where are we?  Ye Olde Time Photo Booth in Frontierland?  Did I really reschedule my pilates session to stand outside in the cold for this shit?  Really?  With all the money she's making off this shitty memoir she's pushing (which I can't even unload on eBay, because everyone else in line had the same idea and already put theirs up at a deep discount) you'd think her people would spring for a color fucking photo booth or at least let us use our own cameras, but no, instead we waited in line for an hour to get in, another ten minutes to "meet" her for three seconds and take the photo, and another forty five minutes weaving through the ugliest clothes I've ever seen to get to the two iPads where all four hundred people could enter their email addresses one at a time to get their picture sent to them.