Archive for the 'library' Category

stimulating young minds

The other day at work, I was scurrying back from a break, my arms laden with things (as is the usual for me – book, computer, hairstyling products) and a tween flagged me down to talk to me, but seemed to lose the ability to form coherent speech when I turned to listen to him. It wasn’t until I was walking away that I looked down and noticed that the hairspray bottle I was carrying had nestled between my breasts with its label out, reading “SEXY.”


sad break room realization #163

sad break room realization #163: When you work Saturday instead of Friday.

Weird-Tasting Leftovers Lunch is just an unnecessary reminder of how much more fun and delicious yesterday was than today.

did you know libraries are chock full of crazy

I bring you a live report from the public desk at the city library. I am entitling it: “I’m tired of the disgusting coughing and strange questions here this week.” OR “My compassion limit is maxed out for your TB and questions about the satanic bible.” Both the title and contents are all Cupcake’s words, unless otherwise noted.

[me: How’s work?]

Well in total, this week the staff here has dealt with:

  • is my apartment haunted can you find news stories about suicides that occurred there in your archives
  • where can I find a witch doctor
  • can you find a copy of the satanic bible for me
  • how much room is at the end of a condom
  • OH and what can I do if I think someone has put a spell on me.


I am worn out from the crazy.

[me: Wow. Must be October.]

Also the other day this lady came up to a librarian and shouted a name at him in a mean and angry way. Then just stood there. Turns out it was the name of an author she was looking for.


I feel like it’s increasingly my job to manage othe people’s bad behavior.

[me: Yeah. Sometimes being a librarian is like being a 2nd grade teacher for adults. I am typing your tirade into a post as we speak, by the way.]


A scary man just gave me a weird look.

you look like a thumb

Don’t blame me, Hot Lunch. Blame Dave Barry. He’s the one who said white men can’t shave their heads without looking like giant thumbs. And yet you insist on proving this point every time you save money on a haircut by getting it buzzed at Q-Cuts. (I mean Q-Sluts, as you prefer to call it.)

“Watch me draw a goatee on this.” I held up my thumb to him tonight while he was trying to look up books in the library catalog. “It’ll be like you’re looking in a mirror.”

He didn’t appear to be listening, but his mouse hand was doing something odd and spastic. I think he was trying to flip me the bird without any children seeing.

I know he likes it. He’s just being coy. At least that’s what all the talk is saying down at Q-Sluts.

taste of mexico

I love the break room at work, if not actually for gastronomic reasons, then for sheer entertainment factor. Nowhere else can I assemble crappy portable food on a plate from the 1970s that makes anything look unappetizing and eat with mismatched cutlery while being asked work questions by colleagues who preface everything with, “I know you’re at lunch, but…” And trying not to overhear about Mrs. M’s latest colon troubles.

Today, I plopped my steaming chimichanga out of its microwaveable cellophane packaging onto a plate next to my sliced up mango and realized for once I had done some meal planning! By accident! GUYS THESE ARE BOTH PRODUCTS OF MEXICO.

My lunch just went up from things-i-could-grab-while-Pants-stood-in-my-doorway-this-morning to something that deserves a real lunch line title, like I don’t know… MEXICAN MEDLEY.


Mexican Medley circa 1973

taco salad and consequences

Cupcake: “What are you up to?”
me: “Not much. Trying not to shit my pants while I drive home.”
Cupcake: “That is fabulous. Any reason in particular?”
me: “There were some Filipinos at work today and they had a bunch of food.”
Cupcake: “Okay?”
me: “And they all wanted to give me their food, so I took it.”
Cupcake: “Wait–what?”
me: “I ate their food. Unexpected Filipino food for lunch.”
Cupcake: “Who are you right now?”
me: “I know. Part of me was thinking ‘This is a poor choice in the making’ but the other part was thinking ‘Free Filipino food’ and that’s the part that won.”
Cupcake: “Who were these random people and why did they have food at the library?”
me: “You sound like all my coworkers when I told them to come downstairs for tasty Filipino food. You are giving me the verbal form of their facial reactions.”
Cupcake: “Whaaaaaat…?”
me: “Exactly.”
Cupcake: “Wait, so what was this Filipino food like?”
me: “It was taco salad mostly.”
Cupcake: (silence)
me: “Taco salad. I’m burping Filipino taco salad.”
Cupcake: “I can’t get past any of this.”
me: “These are consequences. I am living some consequences. They were hard to see at the time because the consequences were at least three hours in the future and I was enjoying taco salad.”
Cupcake: “I think you should definitely blog this.”
me: “Maybe later. I’m home now and taco salad is about to explode out of my ass.”

don’t make me get out my harsh language

I know, I’ve been slacking. No posts. No funny. No drawings. There are a few reasons.

Reason number one is, I am currently insane. Insane with lady hormones coursing through my system like never before. If you’ve ever been on birth control for a really long time and then went off, then you know what I mean. I forgot how INTENSE things get when not numbed by the pill. The day I shouted that I was on my period, at work in front of several members of the Public? That was just the start of it.

But at least I’m starting to get a handle on the crazy. I mean I’m still crazy. But fewer people are aware of it. For instance. I recently walked into work where they are conducting job interviews, luckily for a position I will have little contact with. I say luckily because today I see a member of the Public who creeps me out. And he is dressed all fancy. Almost as though he expects to be interviewed today. Pants sees my “ugh” face as I walk into the staff office.

Pants: “What?”
me: “So-and-so got an interview?”
Pants: “Ha! I love the disdain.”
me: “Whatever. Like you want to work at a place he has keys to.”

Sunday was Beerfest. The crazy was just starting to set in on that day, lurking underneath the sunshine, the drunkenness and the rejoicing with friends and sharing shade with the random vomit-covered unconscious man. Hot Lunch and I each bought 17 tokens worth of beer and did our best to drink them all. Score at the end of the day, me 7, Hot Lunch 27. Level of drunkenness, equal. Drunk Hot Lunch is flirty affectionate Hot Lunch, always an arm around me, a hand caressing the back of my neck, or his forehead pressed affectionately against mine, gazing into my eyes. I have to remind myself that there’s nothing rekindling between Hot Lunch and me. The arm around me all day was just to keep his drunk ass from falling down. Once home in my own apartment, the buzz is wearing off. And the crazy is rising.

The phone rings.
Hot Lunch: “Are you ok? You were kind of quiet on the way home.”
me: “Not really. I guess I’m kind of sad. And frustrated.”

A few minutes into the conversation.

And the other reason I haven’t blogged is that my computer died. I think my sister’s wedding killed it. Or maybe it’s scared. Of the crazy.