One of Those Days...

Oh darlings! I should have known first thing this morning when I didn't want to get out of bed that I should have trusted my instinct to stay warm, safe and blissfully peaceful under the covers, in the dark, when the alarm went off at 5:59 a.m. to news of the latest shooting deaths in the city. But noooooooohhhh, I had to get up. The squirrels would be out soon, waiting for me impatiently on the deck, to get their early-morning handout. I had my one cup of coffee to drink and the newspaper to read before running backupstairs at 7 a.m., and then the brisk walk the mile to the bus stop in the grey, damp cold, the sun barely peeking above the horizon. Oh yes. Way to start the day. You should try it when it's 60 below zero windchill and a foot of snow. As a veteran bus rider, I am generally pretty successful at blocking out most of the rude, crude, obnoxious behavior that is carried on by my fellow passengers, but I find I can no longer deal with the stinky, smelly people. And I'm not talking about street-people, either, darlings! I'm talking about people who eat garlic and smoke and spend all their free times in bars and REEK. Evidently they don't know what it means to wash their hair, clothing or outerwear. Anyway, this morning I had a stinky person in front of me (yesterday it wasn't quite so bad, as a stinky person sat behind me), and someone plopped down in the seat behind me (I didn't notice who as I was trying to focus on the latest Newsweek magazine). Soon I heard mutterings under his breath - sounded like a male teenager from the ghetto (doesn't matter what color they are, they all talk like they're from the frigging ghetto these days, geez). Suffice to say that none of these mutterings are publishable where a child may come across them, and in any event I don't TALK that way - at least, not out loud! Was he singing (well, trying to sing) a song he was listening to on one of those blasted machines? Was he a nut case? After trying really hard not to listen, I decided he was a nut case. Oh oh, was he going to set my hair on fire? Stab me in the neck? Start shooting? All these things have happened on buses, inflicted on innocent passengers by mentally people who should be locked up - but - oh, I forgot, THEY HAVE RIGHTS. I don't have any frigging rights to be free from abuse, fear and potential mayhem but the mentally ill have TONS OF RIGHTS. So - it turns out it IS the nut case kid I remember sitting behind me one time before, a couple of months back. The hairs on the back of my neck still haven't gone back down from that ride. I know it was the same kid because, hoody aside, he got off at the stop where all the teenagers get off to go to the Technical High School and I got a good look at him as I glared at him out of the window and stuck my tongue out at him. Yeah, I know, I know, but maybe he'll figure I'm a nutty old lady (you know the type - with overly-dyed hair and wearing too much dark eye make-up) and steer clear of me from now on. I am NOT into listening to incessant nut case rap crap first thing in the morning - or at any time of the day, actually. And if this kid is the next one to make headlines at his school by shooting 72 people, I may be his next victim. But at least it will be close range and fast! It had better be, or I swear here and now I'll never stop haunting his skinny teenaged butt. The rest of the ride to work was, thankfully, relatively peaceful. That was the last of the peace for the next 7.5 hours (not including lunch). Did I mention I work for an - er - "difficult" man? Oh joy. He was in prime gig today, darlings, let me tell you. I'd quit in a heartbeat, except I'm in the same place where millions of other people are in this country - they (and I) can't afford to lose a job. I've got just enough time in this job where the firm contributes 7% of my gross wages to a 401(k) plan (this used to be a separate pension plan but they found a way to screw us out of that) each year, plus they match another 2.5% of the first 10% of my gross wages I put in. In order to get the full match, I put in 10%. The upshot is that I've got 19.5% of my gross earnings going into the 401(k) starting this year, for the next 10-11 years. That will amount to a pile of money that I cannot forego. So, I'm not going to leave. El Bosso has gotten worse over the past couple of years, and thus far I've planned about 50 different ways for him to meet his end. Tonight on the bus ride home I was charitable and fantasized about him standing naked in front of his "peers" at the State Bar Association annual BIG MEETING at the State Capital, being pelted with rotten eggs. Ooooh, ahhhh, ouch! Can you hear laughter, Mr. Schmuck? Tomorrow, the Goddess who watches over all of us chess lovers and Goddesschess people WILL have her revenge on the King of the (*insert your own nasty words here, the nastier, the better). He is having a colonoscopy. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! I will be thinking about that all day long, laughing at him. Couldn’t happen to nicer guy, darlings :)

One of Those Days...

So, since he isn’t going to be in the office tomorrow, Mr. Boss made sure he kept me past 5:00 p.m. so that I missed not one, but two buses. The wait for the next one (after rush "hour" in this poop-noodle town), is 40 minutes. It's obviously a power thing with him. Speaks volume about the man's character, doesn't it.

I took the "it must be done tonight since I'm not going to be here" letter into him. He looked at it, read it thoroughly twice, signed it, and then, glancing at the clock, said "This doesn't have to go out tonight. Be sure you proof read it and sign it for me if you find any errors".

I may just slip in an error or two not there at 5:15 p.m. this evening. He complained so much about the last "error" I made, when I typed "chess of drawers" (oops) instead of "chest of drawers" and he didn’t catch it despite the fact the letter went through at least three drafts that he proofread each time… Well, darlings, they can fire me, and I'll sue their butts for age discrimination, sexual discrimination, and violations of the Americans with Disabilities Act (I believe I'm suffering from early onset Alzheimers, not to mention having been driven insane because of working for this Person for the past five years...)

The bus ride home tonight, once it finally came, was relatively peaceful. Only two loud teenaged girls sitting in the back seat, talking ghetto (do any teenagers speak standard English these days?), spraying really lousy, stinky cologne over each other for two miles (the scent permeated the whole bus and since it’s freezing cold outside opening windows to try and clear the air was not an option). They got off on 27th Street, Thank Goddess! I ride to 84th Street and another couple of miles south.

Then, the mile hike home in pitch dark. I live in a suburban area, not well lit. Just what I need to cap a lovely day spent earning my pay. Walking home in the dark, in the cold, wondering what might jump out at me from the shrubs, wondering what even worse might decide to pull up in a car, or shoot from a moving vehicle.

I was in need of something to cheer me up beyond my fantasies of torture and murder of Mr. Schmuck "oh my plantar’s fasciatis hurts, owie, you must now feel sorry for me, that's an order". It showed up by way of an email waiting for me tonight when I finally got home - not shot, not raped, fortunately not dead.

Some months ago, I believe it was in March, I ordered and paid for in advance a limited edition book on chess pieces. It was advertised in the Chess Collectors newsletter, and so I figured they were vetted and creditable people, as the Chess Collectors are very rich and are nobody's fools.

WELL! The book has been delayed twice already. And tonight in my email I received this:

Beste besteller van het boek 'Chessmen', Hierbij vragen wij u om nog enig geduld voor dit boek. Bij de eerste druk is er helaas iets misgegaan, waardoor het boek thans in herdruk is. Naar verwachting zal Chessmen in week 47 (week van 19-23 november) verschijnen. Het boek zal vervolgens zo snel mogelijk aan alle bestellers worden uitgeleverd. Wij hopen u hiermee voldoende te hebben geïnformeerd en danken u bij voorbaat dank voor uw begrip. -- Met vriendelijke groet,Renske Pronk

I figured it had something to do with my book order, and deduced from a few scant clues – such as "boek" means "book" and "in week 47 (week van 19-23 november)" - that the book would be released sometime during the week of November 19-23, 2007 (I hope 2007). Just for the hell of it, I ran the words through AltaVista’s babelfish translator and got a good laugh. Here is the ‘translation:’

Dear besteller of the book ' Chessmen ', We you ask for still some patience for this book. At the first very something has unfortunately gone wrong, as a result of which the book is now in herdruk. According to the expectations Chessmen in weak 47 (yielded of 19-23 November) will appear. The book will vervolgens as soon as possible be extradited to all bestellers. We hope have informed you sufficiently and thank you in advance thanks for your term. -- Kind regards, Renske pronk

I got a really good laugh out of that translation, darlings. I thought "besteller" had something to do with "best seller" – which would have been interesting since the book hasn’t even been released yet! Just goes to show you what a day at the office can do to one’s brain function. Duh! After reading the babelfish ‘translation,’ I realized it means something like "Dear Stupid Person Who Has Pre-Ordered This Book and Paid for It In Full Already, Ha Ha Ha".

Oh Goddess! I almost peed in my pants, I was laughing so hard…