forgot about the Ides of April, cause the freaks are in full effect tonight!
Like the master procrastinator, I was all up in the post office circa 8:00 tonight to mail my taxes. Like most other last minute Tom, Dick and Harriets, I was somewhat frazzled on my way in but for the first time since God was a boy, they had the line on lockdown and that shit was organized! There lines were roped off, like in the bank and there was some postal dude walking around doing a pre-flight check, "Do you need confirmation of delivery, Stamps, help filling out your address?" For people who just can't keep it together, this dude was straight up helpful. It made me happy to see that it was not like Wrestlemania in the PO.
I stepped into line, waited 2 minutes and then to the counter. But before I could do that...two frat-cap wearing mother-fuckers had the nerve to talk about, "Dude must be gay, his letters wreak of cologne..." I was gonna let it slide but why, always engage when you can humiliate or educate. "What if I am gay?" I said as I turned around. Bro-dudes 1&2 instantly shit their pants as I stared them down. They were taller than me (not anything to brag about) and in all probability, would have taken me had a donnybrook ensued. "Uh...uh...that's cool dude" the bigger of the two stammered. Fucking gutless, not so much as a fuck you back from two guys who had a decade's worth of youth and stamina on me. I should have slapped them both across the face on principle.
I stepped to the counter, posted my taxes and a package for the dazed and bedazzling one, (that did not reek of cologne you fuckin' dummies) and was on my way. On my way back to my car, which I expertly parallel parked, (that never happens) a freakishly big man stepped in my way. "Hey man, you got ten bucks? I need some stamps." He didn't look homeless, drunk/strung out or anything like that. He was pushing Andre the Giant status though. I was all, "how many stamps do you need?" "Two" he said. I pulled out a book of stamps from the pocket of my hoodie, "Here you go man, you can keep the rest." He was pissed. I sized up the amount of damage a shot to the baby-makers and an elbow to the nose would do...I was in trouble. "Come on man...I want to buy stamps and have like 8 bucks left over for beer." I was pissed and all of a sudden foolishly courageous, "you're a fucking idiot" I said as I side-stepped the man-mountain and walked away.
He must have been stunned by my response, because he didn't give chase.
I got home and decided to see how long it would take for me to walk to work. So I did. Twenty minutes total and that's walking at not to strenuous of a pace. Fuck you $5.00 a gallon George! This patriot is walking to work and you can eat my ass!
I walked into my house to find Red Sox Nation in need of a few runs to defeat the Evil Empire yet again. Jason Varitek isn't captain for nothing. Although to the genius fan who took a swing at Gary Sheffield, besides him being one of the biggest and angriest Yankees, having millions of dollars to sue your ass, why would you try to punch him in the face? I hate the Yankees, but GS is a professional.
That's all I got.
Peace out yo!