I think...I never want to hear or say the word "fuck" again. Today, while coming out of the post office (rant on that in a moment), I heard a guy talking to his friend while pushing a baby carriage, talking about how he's "so big", and how much he "lives to fuck tight cunt". I heard the word "fuck" about twelve times in the thirty seconds that he was in earshot. Fast forward to this evening while I'm on the train back to the bus stop, I heard a screeching gaggle of hyenas get on and one of them bragging about how she was arrested for beating the hell out of someone. I counted for one minute the number of times I heard "fuck". Keep that in mind-ONE minute. 47 times. That's FORTY SEVEN times she said "fuck" in ONE MINUTE. Later, I'm on the bus and two guys are sitting in the back talking about something or other, and I'm hearing that word again and again and again and again and AGAIN. I have no clue what they were talking about, because I have a hard time with accents, but "fuck" is one of those words that everyone knows and understands. I'm honestly, and I never thought I'd say it, I'm honestly sick of that word.

Ok, the other rant for the evening, the post office. I've never shipped a package overseas. I have no idea if I'm supposed to use a special box, a special label, I know nothing of how to do it. So, I go to the counter and the guy who calls me up must not have spoken any English at all. I ask him for help, stating that I have no idea what I'm doing, and he tells me that if my package has already been sent, then there's no way to get it back. I tell him again, that I need to send a package and clarify that I have not sent one and don't know what I'm doing. I've got my package sitting next to me, too, three books in a gift bag. He starts taking the books out and weighing them. I inform him that they're all one package going to the same place. He tells me that I'll need a box. Period. I tell him that I'm aware of this, and that I don't know if I need a specific box or label to send it overseas. He asks me where it's going. I tell him the US. He starts weighing everything again, once again, separately. I inform him again that it's all one package. He tells me that I'll need a box in which to send it. I tell him again that I'm well aware that I need a box, but there aren't any boxes in which this package fits. He tells me...that I need...a box. At this point, I'm ready to throttle him. I ONCE AGAIN tell him that I KNOW I need a god damned BOX, I just need to know if I need a SPECIFIC box. I point out the boxes on a shelf labelled, "international". He tells me that those are expensive and that I don't want one, because they're express. I tell him that I'd like the package to get there this year. He tells me...once again...that I need a box. Before I can tell him that he's a god damned idiot, he just walks away, leaving me and my rage at the counter. Since I knew he could still hear me, I said, "Wow, thank you so much! You're a gentleman! And scholar! Thank you for your sincerity and kindness and all of your help, you fucking douchebag!" he comes back with a tiny box that could probably fit two or three packs of cigarettes and tries to force these three books into it. I told him to stop unless he wanted to buy new copies of these books and rewrite the dedications on the inside covers. He stopped and told me that I'll need a larger box. I grabbed the books, put them back in the gift bag and told him he should lose his job for being an incompetent douche bag and walked out. As I was walking out, I was very pleased to hear him call the next person up to the counter, and the response being, "no, I'll wait. You seem like you've got no idea what you're doing, and I've got a fragile package to send." I walked by an hour later and saw that no one was going near his section of the counter.