1. Refuses to take outgoing mail out of the box. I practically have to prop it up right at the front of the box, tie Elmo balloons to it, coat it in neon green paint, and weave $20's in between the envelopes. And then maybe, just maybe, she'll take it. About 1 outta 5 times. And that 1 time, I'm pretty sure she just uses the envelopes to clean the bugs off her windshield.
2. Leaves nasty, "I'm on a power trip" notes on cars parked anywhere within 20 feet of the mailbox that warn of the ultimate destruction of anyone that gets in her way. One day I fully expect her to purposely and repeatedly ram any car in her path(or person, or child, or fill in the blank) just to prove the point that she best not be delayed or inconvenienced while NOT picking up outgoing mail.
3. Puts the pedal to the metal between each house. If you watch her, she looks like those commercials soliciting whiplash patients. Stop. Goooooo. Stop. Goooooo. Who knew those little mail jeeps can go from 0 to 60 in the time it takes to get from mailbox to mailbox? And why, oh why, is there such a need for speed? I have a feeling WAY too much of the postal service's money is being spent on her brake pads.
4. Acts totally P.O.'d anytime something won't fit in the box or she has to bring something to the door. Because of course, this slows down her rhythm and messes up her perfect pattern of skid marks down the road from burning rubber at each box.
A couple of weeks ago, Jeremy's mom sent the twins a birthday package--these hilarious little cars that make animal and engine noises when you shake them and then they drive around. I guess they were making these noises the whole day she had them in her car (no doubt being shaken into epileptic-like seizures by the aforementioned driving habits). So when I open the door, she throws the box at me (I'm not exaggerating, she really chucked it) and said, "Here, let these annoy YOU for awhile."
5. Did I mention she wears a red, white, and blue flag bandanna Rambo-style across her forehead? Seriously. And black wrist braces on each arm. And huge sunglasses with rust colored lenses. I'd take a picture but I don't think I have a fast enough camera, or reflexes for that matter. All you'd see is a big patriotic-colored blur, and if you looked close enough, the blur would probably be giving me the finger.
No, this isn't a picture of the real Rambo. But when I did a Google search for Rambo pictures, this one came up and I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants--which really would've been a disaster since I just polished off my Route 44.