WTF? Fridays, Volume V

A few random things first, while I prime myself for my weekly frolic in my kiddie pool of vitriol.

Bermando: hey there hawt mama
MusicLvrDee: Hello!
Bermando: Friday is here, lets party!!!!!
MusicLvrDee: WORD!
Bermando: What do you call 2 lesbos in a closet?
MusicLvrDee: Oh jeez....I don't know, what?
Bermando: a liquor cabinet
MusicLvrDee: LOL!
MusicLvrDee: Oh Berman. You kill me.

Additionally, Meghan, that was some quality OTP time last night! Long overdue and FREE! Plus! You get to bill some of it back to The Company! How awesome is that? It was worth the hours of sleep I DIDN'T get. :) Oh, and the dinner I didn't eat. This just means you owe me a baked cheese now. Or chili. See what I did right there? I'm so sneaky...

Ok, now onto our regularly scheduled program...WTF? Fridays, Volume V. (I finally get to use V!) (Remember that show? V? Oh man. HAUNTED by the alien birth scene.) (V was good, but campy. Alien Nation was much better. Quality writing. Is that out on DVD yet?)

This week was surprisingly WTF? free, outside of the nit-picky items on my evaluation. There are a FEW things, though.

We're going through many changes here at the agency. We just won a surprisingly tender cut of business and we're gearing up to take it on. Unfortunately, they're moving the worker bees assigned to this particular bit of business into our "area." And guess who will be their temporary assistant until they find someone permanent? That's right! THE TEMP! WTF??

I TOLD them he sucked! Except, I did say it politely. I believe I said, "This is just clearly not his priority," and "He's easily overwhelmed." Oh, and I may have dropped in, "He's kinda creepy." BUT, they have no one else!? WTF? There's NO ONE ELSE at the staffing agency we use? There is not one other soul in this entire city who can, at the very least, book cars, make copies and order food? Or at least can sit there and NOT tell me about the beneficial properties of cashews to seminal fluid?

And what the fuck was up with that anonymous comment to my fruit haiku? At least have the sac to identify yourself! WTF?

Finally, I can't believe this, but I am inflicting a WTF? on my own self. The other night, at about 11 p.m., on the train ride home, a very small but well-dressed latino gentleman stepped onto the train. He was quite small, about 5'1". Maybe even smaller. But this little dude was a PIMP. I thought, you know, Good For You, Little Dude! Own that shit! He was all, "Yeah, I'm little, but I'm fly!" I wondered at the type of upbringing he had that could have instilled in him such an air of confidence. If confidence were measured in inches, I could change the world. Alas, it's not. All I am is just tall.

The Little Dude sat down at the same stop I did. We were diagonal to each other. He caught me observing him (this happens 967,899 times a day in New York City) and I averted my eyes, but not before noticing that HE HAD SIX FINGERS on one hand. Then he made a movement and I noticed that he had a sixth finger on the OTHER hand as well! THE LITTLE DUDE HAD TWELVE FINGERS! No WONDER he was rocking some attitude! What could YOU do with an extra two fingers?! Yeah. EXACTLY.

But, I forgot to tell you. So, WTF? How does one forget to share something like that with all seven of you!?

Forgive me?