Schizophrenia, Much?

Rather than letting me use one of their cars, my family has decided it would be easier to drive me to and from work despite the fact that they all work, at most, 20 minutes from one another and I work more than an hour away from all of them. Yay having them tow me everywhere! Speaking of which, driving with my mother is an exercise in patience. She keeps at least a 6 car following distance between her and the car in front of her, and slams the breaks if that gap closes by so much as a foot. Oh how I miss my little Princess Gary (my car's a drag queen) and hope she has a speedy recovery (because it's not getting any cooler out... tomorrow it's supposed to be 100 some odd degrees but with the humidity it will feel like 109 degrees... I'm sweating just thinking about it).

An office update: everyone seems to have recovered from their death flus but now they're coming down with all sorts of strange afflictions. One has a rash (and wore a festive scarf to cover it up) and another is breaking out in little bumps (the one that "yelled" at me which I just suspect are her witch's warts coming in). Whatever the reason, I'm convinced that place is a petre dish. The only silver lining I can see to having sickly coworkers is that by time I'm done working there I'll be immune to most known diseases... or I'll be dead. We shall see!

Which reminds me I need to do some serious scrubbing because some crazy patron insisted on shaking hands with me. I obliged his request but then couldn't help but think "If I have to wait much longer to wash my hand I may have to amputate."

And then how will I masturbate.

(Okay Okay I'm being dramatic but I like to stand by my stereotype that true crazy people are just covered in their own feces).

This man told me his whole life story and now you will hear about it too so you can vicariously experience my misery. To set the mood imagine a man with an oddly hairy nose (not just nose hair like hair ON his nose) wearing a grease-stained shirt, frayed cut off jeans, who spits a lot when he talks. Nooooooooow GO!

He's having problems getting a job even though he has a law degree, a Masters in Library Sciences, and some other special certification. He's against the war in Iraq. He likes to visit the people on the 2nd floor of the Library of Congress and thinks I should work there too. He doesn't like the governor of Maryland because he somehow cut funding to the Library of Congress. He's had to take a lot of crappy odd jobs as a result of underfund and he told me about a lot of websites I should go visit even though he expressed disdain for everything going on the internet. He then asks:

Crazy: Yeah does Dina still work here?

Your Hero: Who?

Crazy: Deana... Diana? She leads this place...

Your Hero: Do you mean [Miriam]?

Crazy: That's it! Yeah...I'm really good friends with her.

From there he handed me his resume and talked about a book his father wrote, which for some reason required him to hand me another piece of paper he had been carrying around on a clip board. After asking me whether I had visited the Law Library up the road (there isn't one) and if I'd been to Ocean City this summer, he left in a cloud of crazy dust and vanished from my life.

I then took the time to look over his resume and the paper about his father's book which he had so graciously given me.

Here are the highlights:

"Todays'=Date Summer of 2000
www.vadrs.gov/dss/
TO: Miss Wand Felds, Gwen Crenshaw, Daisey thompson
'The Career Key.' Larry K. Jones

Mr. and Mrs.David (in Jsophine Ciccoine 1541, 1989) Solomon
Mr. and Mrs.David W. Ostrow=
Our Kensington Towers to Huntington Village
Please send ORIOLES/ RAVENS World Series and Super Bowl Tickets

THIRD DECADE
????= 1976, 1989-1991, Janurary 2nd, 2001 at 5:29 AM
Army Times/ Stars and Stripes
A Better WAY To RESOLVE the IRAQI GOVERNMENT = A VICTORY, AGAIN
Donald Rumsfeld, Tom Snow, United States
Contact Dr. Florence Pulwers, PHD
after January 2nd, 2001 at 5:29 AM"

With qualifications like those, how can he not get a job?

Normally I would have reflected on the sad state and poor treatment of the mentally ill in our society and the stigmas they must over come when trying get gainful employment... but I was too busy thinking about how I had to soak my hand in bleach.

So it goes.

2:^)