Where is My Retarded Rapper Boyfriend? Where is My Jesus Chain?

I've had a very Sweet Dee sort of day.

First, I had to do "Charlie work" at Bagels, which consisted of scraping mold (mold which, by the way, has probably been at Bagels longer than I have) off of the floorboards around the sink and out of mop buckets.

I then had the following dialogue with my boss:

Me: Sue, I think you should install a brighter light in the alley. I'm not comfortable taking the trash out after dark, owing to the fact that I can't see a freaking thing.

Sue: It's fine. There's a motion sensor light out there.

Me: Yes, a motion sensor light that doesn't illuminate ANYTHING. Sue, I can't see the homeless creeps in the alley during the daytime. At night, they become invisible.

Sue: Well, I'm out there in the middle of the night all the time, and I'm comfortable with the light.

Me: We'll see how comfortable everyone is when I get RAPED taking out the trash.

Sue: Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that.

(Pause)

Me: Ok, fine. Whatever. When I slip on a patch of ice and break my wrist, all because I couldn't see the ice, we'll speak again.

Sue: (Long, belabored sigh) Fine. I'll see what I can do.

Then my coworker accidentally stabbed me. Twice. Once in the elbow when she attempted to skewer a bagel mid-air, and then in the hand when she... Well, I don't know what the fuck she was doing.

I. Hate. Everything.