Homicidal PMT Crazies, Episode No. 5342

Dearest Truly Kind and Amenable Person Who Would Never Shout At Complete Strangers,

I lost my rag at the Bastarding La Poste today and vented all my migrainous, menstrual misery on them. You would have been so proud.

When I got my new PayPal account, after the infamous Donating Daughter Débâcle, I immediately ordered a metric tonne of Christmas presents for my (surprisingly) lucky offspring. I deliberately gave my work address so that the parcels would be delivered to the office where I am all day, and not to my home address, where I am not. Most of the parcels cost 6 euros for delivery.

Well guess what I received at the office today? Four, count ‘em, FOUR post office notices to say You weren’t there when the postman called, so you have to pick up your parcels from that shitty little office in your village, which is only open on days with a ‘z’ in them, where it’s too hot and claustrophobic, and there are always fifteen painfully slow and doddery or completely retarded people in the queue, and then when you finally get to the counter they tell you your parcels have been sent back to the Centre de Tri anyway, ya boo sucks!!!

So I immediately called and asked the Post Office Dragon Lady nicely to send the poor wee trainee postie back to our office tomorrow with the parcels, because I had paid 6 euros postage on each parcel and my colleagues were here all day yesterday and today, but the postie had unaccountably failed to physically enter our office to deliver the parcels.

Post Office Dragon Lady refused, said the postie had done her job and and it wasn’t her fault if our office is not easy to find! I disagreed and told her it’s clearly marked on the 6 foot tall plan at the entrance to the site.

Long story short… I got the boss’ car, picked up the parcels (and some work stuff, I hasten to add), shouted quite a lot and demanded the name and postal address of the manager so I can write and complain. (It happens frequently). The shouting provoked a violent fit of coughing, so I made sure to spray my germs all over their office. Of course, I am a True Fairy Princess and therefore have no germs, but they don't know that. I’m going to send them a photo of the site plan so they can stick it up their arse on the notice board in their staff room and throw darts at it. If they’re lucky, I’ll send them a photo of my bum as well.

Yours in Sisterly Bitchitude,
Missus. Grumpy McMenstrual Blackheart