When I get back to the office I have a text from my wife, who is living in Portland for the summer, which says: "a woman just inched up next to me at the curb so that her umbrella would cover my head."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
No, not a post about the recent stunning (sarcastic) allegations from Floyd, although maybe roid rage explains the postal worker phenomenon. I was just in the Post Office on the Upper East side where the following interaction took place. I was called to the window, very normal average 50ish white male says "does this envelope contain any liquid, any hazardous substances...."? I say no, a monotone (at first) monologue ensues. He says, "look at those old women in line, what the fuck is wrong with them, old bats..." His voice is becoming far more effeminate. "That one that was behind you is ready to start some shit, she better not start it with me, old bitch, I'll punch her in the goddamn neck. I don't know if she is trying to look sexy, or missed her fiber this morning. So, we have to ask everyone this question, does your envelope contain any liquid or hazardous substances" I say no, he says "I know, I asked you already, I'm telling you a story. So, I ask one of these old bitches that, and she yells, no! I tell her she better keep her panties on and not fuck with me. Have a good day."