Re-Tar-ded

The only image that came up following a Google search of "Retarred." Don't know what it means, but it puts a smile on my face.

If this post were a delicious Starbucks latte, I would order it "Venti", except I'd change the "i" to a "y", in order to make it an adjective. "Venty."

I'm in a terribly foul mood this morning, as not only has New York become an obstacle course of nightmares for me, but my place of work has nailed the final stake into my coffin of sanity. Sanity is dead. And here's why:

After dealing with a series of delayed trains this morning, I made my way to my office the same route I always take. My regular readers know this is by walking down an abandoned alley, then turning onto the street with the homeless shelter and sanitation department, the street right below my office, a street that always delivers a variety of carcasses on the sidewalks and roads. The street is constantly under construction, so sometimes in order to avoid the homeless-im (as my Israeli mother would call them) and the trash, I walk in the middle of the street. This backfired two days ago when, barely paying attention, my foot was nearly grazed by a rat tail that seemed to sprout straight out of the ground. In fact, upon further inspection, the rat had just been really well run-over, so that the body was flat and the tail sprung forth like a disease-ridden guyser of filth. Needless to say, I've grown less squeamish thanks to this street, however the rat-tail encounter was even too much for me to handle.

Now, there's always construction going on at the intersection where my local deli is. Today, they were retarring the entire thing, so that there was no way to get from one end to the other without crossing over this tar. In fact, while the big steamroller was doin its thang, there was a guy in a hard hat waiving people on with a big orange flag, as if to say "Hey! Go for it! Nothing to worry about here!" This attitude contradicted directly with the fact that he was standing on hot, steamy, sticky tar, and that the entire road was still slick and gooey. Having no choice, I tried to crossover as ladylike as possible, and even still felt the hot tar slapping back onto the back of my legs. At the other end, turning backwards, my legs were covered in tar. I felt like crying. The sidewalk was dense with black footprints from other unknowing victims.

Getting to work, I desperately tried to scrub the tar off, instead leaving red welts from where the tar had burned my skin. My brand new shoes had a layer of street gunk and whatever stuck to it from the sidewalk. My skirt had black spots dotting the back. Even as I type, a cartoon like emission of steam and anger is being emitted from my earholes. I found out the name of the company and plan on calling them at lunchtime. And don't think I didn't get pics of it on my digicam, cause I did.

THEN! THEN!

I get to work, and notice that a HUGE document that I'd been working on last night was missing. Seems the other secretary had to access my computer for something. I call her and say, "Hey, (&*@#$%!), do you know where that huge doc is?" "Noooo...." she replied slowly. Me: "Well, did you close any documents?" Her: "Yes..." Me: "And did you save the changes....?" Her: "Noooooo...." Me: "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE THE CHANGES?!?!?!?" Her: "Cause I didn't make any changes to it." Me: "Yes, but did it occur to you that it's MY computer and that I possibly DID make changes to it?!?!?" Her: "Sorry."

PEOPLE. This is who I have to deal with on a daily basis.

Now I'm just biding my time until my boss comes back and I can sit down and explain it to her. But knowing her, both our assistant heads are gonna be on the chopping block. Let's not bring up how I have literally not made a single mistake in the two and a half years that I've worked here.

Oh! AND I also have to deal with a non-paying bidder on Ebay.

These construction folks chose the wrong motherfucker to cover in tar today. I'm gonna go apeshit on em.

In other news: A CAT WITH TWO HEADS!!!



Finally: The following joke was forwarded to my friend by her stalker, an Indian man who I'm guessing found this hilarious. I get a kick out of reading the punchline, but seriously, if anyone gets it, comment this post up!

Once upon a time, a Sardarji saw a boy who wore his cap in the back direction. This event really harrased the social nature of sardarji and then he also decided to wear his pagari in the backward direction. While he was on his way to his office another Sardar saw him and asked "Sardarji aa rahe ho ke jaa rahe ho."

The end.


via Defamer.