Going Postal

So, why is it that people with the most menial, mind-numbing jobs, most of which involve the least bit of though or effort, NEVER get it right? Really, sometimes wiping your ass takes much more effort and thought than some of the things people get paid to do for 8 hours a day. Yet, we rely- day in and day out -on these idiots to get some of our most important tasks accomplished. Case in point: our mail carrier.

Mid last week, I checked my mail box, only to find out that it was empty. Hmm…I checked again the next day- nothing- not even one of those annoying credit card applications or the little flyers with the ‘age enhanced’ pictures of missing kids that are now in their 40’s. Now, I am sure that to some people this is cause for celebration, but when my Valentine’s day gift, my kid’s books, and our bank statements went MIA, I started to wonder. Of course, the first person that came to mind was our mail carrier. Not that I wouldn’t trust our mail carrier… really, she’s an*exceptional* individual, in her twenties, with an attitude twice the size of her blimp-shaped ass, and with a great deal of skill in handling the mail AND her cell phone while chatting about the ‘baby daddy’ this and the ‘baby daddy’ that. Now, there was that one time when my insurance agent called me in hysterics after having received my pay stub nicely tucked in an OPEN envelope… and no check! Oh, and let’s not forget the time when I asked this *incredible* individual about a missing package. She chose to pretend not to hear me… funny, she seemed to be able to hear the idiot on the other side of the phone quite clearly (and so could I!)

So, late last week -and into today- I began to get all these phone calls and emails about my mail being returned. Most of them started with: “Oh, I didn’t know you had moved”...Hmmmmm????? or, “I invited you guys to my party, but the invitation came back undeliverable, did you move?” What?? So I checked my mail box again on Saturday and found out that the bitch had deliberately and arbitrarily, changed the name tags on our mail box!! WHAT.THE.FUCK?! Now, thanks to the ass who doesn’t know her pie hole from her shit hole, I have had to pay to have items re-delivered and mail re-sent.

So, I did what every other non-confrontational, parent-of-soon-to-be two would: I made tags in blinding bright RED and HUGE font for our box, GLUED them down to the box… and I left her a note. I impressed myself with my very passive approach. I began to think that, after the birth of my baby and with this pregnancy, I had become a softie. Perhaps it is a desire to set a better example for my child, or perhaps it is my husband’s constant reminder that I am pregnant and should avoid that kind of stress, perhaps maybe I have lost some of that Latin temper… or maybe I just didn’t want to get my hands dirty with such an asshole. In any case, the note read:

“Dear Mail Carrier:
PLEASE note that we are missing mail and have received notices via phone about mail that has been returned to sender as undeliverable. We noticed that our names were changed on our box for NO APPARENT REASON – this is a B-I-G PROBLEM! Please check with the leasing office next time prior to making these UNCALLED-FOR changes.

Thank you”.

I should have known, damn it! I should have known! The next day I get this half-ass-chicken-shit-ghetto-scribble crammed on the same piece of paper that read:

“No one was removing the mail for over a month, It was returned to sender.”

WHAT.THE.FUCK?! She probably would have been better off telling me that I am a cock-sucking whore. Seriously, I could feel the steam slowly taking over and my whole body turning red. My feet swelled up, my neck was stiff, my hands clenched into fists and I just… went postal! Why oh why, is it that they can NEVER take accountability for their stupidity? They fuck around, screw up and then it’s everyone else’s fault but their own. Plus, they STILL get paid, whether I get my mail or not.

So, I wrote another letter, and gathered pieces of mail that I had retrieved 2-3 weeks prior- this was war and I was out to take her! But, the note didn’t make it to the mail box… which was probably a very good thing for her. I am pretty sure that, at this point, I would have killed her if she had replied with another chicken-shit-ignorant-rant. So, I called the post master, let her know that our mail carrier was tampering with our mail and promptly reminded her that this was a federal offense. She was quite pleasant and VERY quick to let me know that she would personally take care of the situation. I guess this means I am maturing... or something. I hope the blimp-assed-chicken-shit-ignorant-menial-worker-bitch got fired… then again, she’ll probably end up on welfare and costing me a fortune in taxes. I never win…hey, at least I KNOW I haven’t lost my Latin temper after all! LOL!

To Steal or Not?

So how in the world do you get away with taking $43 million from a bank, hoping in a van and taking off without a trace?

http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/europe/02/22/uk.robbery/index.html

It amazes me every time that, in this time and age where to make a simple bank transaction you have to surrender a vile of blood and your first-born child, people can get away with impersonating the police… and stealing this much moolah. However, I am inclined to think that, in a country where half the population does not know the meaning of the word ‘dentist’, a heist of this proportion is probably easier than pulling teeth. Not to offend all you Brits out there, my great-grandfather was a British national with a lengthy military career, the most gorgeous sky-blue eyes… and the worst teeth in the planet.

So, I start dreaming about what I would do if I had such a substantial amount of money… as I do every time I sit here with a pile of bills ready to give money away to corporations that need it a lot less than I do. I can just picture Ares and I sipping beverages gently poured into tall glasses, dozing off naked under big blue umbrellas in some beach in the Caribbean, playing with our 'sandy' selves. Of course, this is my dream, so I have bigger boobs, a smaller ass and he’s just as perfect as he is today. Funny that, with this much money, most people would splurge on designer duds and high-strung social lives, but apparently I will be entitled to live a happy, lazy and very naked existence.

Then my darn morals kick in and I wonder if these people ever think about the possibility of getting caught. This would be my downfall- I would be in constant worry about getting caught, not because my life would be confined to an 8’ x 10’ space shared with Ulla the barbaric dike who becomes the Sweet Momma who puts me to bed – and not necessarily by reading bed time stories- but because I would have to give it all back. And there goes the good ol’ naked times with Ares’ hot ass, which would most definitely be on the most wanted list over at his new ‘crib’.

I have to admit though, as incorrect as it is to steal, I do think ‘coming’ into money this way is much more admirable than winning the lottery. See, this takes planning. This takes risk. This takes resignation. This takes determination. Winning the lottery only takes a ride over to the corner gas station with a buck and a crap load of luck. The funny thing is that, either way, the next step would be to hide, if not from authority, from the throngs of ‘long-lost’ relatives –including Uncle Sam- that will be coming out of Bumble Fuck to claim a piece of the pie.

So, knowing that I don’t have what it takes to plan and execute such a plan, as exemplified by my futile attempt to steal a candy bar from a Walgreen’s at the tender age of 4, after which I had to return it and apologize to the manager (Humiliation is a Latino mother’s best weapon!), I will be on my merry way tomorrow morning to purchase my very own lottery ticket, and hopefully, I’ll be sipping those drinks –naked- with Ares on a beach somewhere soon.