Walking to work this morning, near Chinatown, I saw a tiny, middle-aged Asian woman with a t-shirt that read 'Kiss me before my boyfriend comes back.' I felt like saying how about I fuck you in the ass before your stupid boyfriend comes back, how would you like that? But I'll bet if I tried that, she'd have the law after me, bitch. These novelty t-shirts are gonna get somebody in trouble.
Later at work, I was feeding letters into the postmeter. That thing really sends those letters zipping through, it's hypnotic. One of these days I'm gonna get my finger caught in there and it will rip my hand off and send it through, to come out the other end postmarked, ready to be shipped off someplace far away from my wrist.
I went back to my desk to flip some files, and the next thing I know my boss is squawking about something. What the fuck? What is it this time? Next minute she's zooming around the office, demanding to know what our TNT account number is. She was hysterical. It was pretty amusing. Does she know what she looks like? How ridiculous? Probably not. Anyway, I said 'hey, hey, look, I'll get it, it's right here'... Her face was all screwed up like a small, insane child, mid-tantrum. I pointed to the account number, 'there it is, right there.'
She said (get this) 'You don't have to be like that...', like she was hurt.
I didn't have to be like that. Why did I be like that?
Insane fucking bitch.
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