Dressed to Impress

The library had quite the assortment of fashionistas today. I mean, was a third Sex and the City being filmed? Was SJP/Carrie Bradshaw being stowed away in the meeting room piled up on pillows, Botox, and martinis?

Our first contestant down the catwalk, was--well, MEEEEEEEE-OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW-- because girlfriend was looking HOT!

Ooooo, a hot mess!

Eat your heart out, Mr. Blackwell.

Is he dead? I kinda hope so, since, really, I don't feel like being sued. But, if you aren't dead, I'm a librarian, so after the student loan payment goes through, I'll give you my last five dollars, old man. If you really want blood from a turnip, I'll cut you a deal, I'll knit you a scarf for your old man neck so it doesn't get cold. Even? Good. MOVING ON.

So, hot mess girlfriend thought she had IT going ON. She strolled in the library wearing a hot pink halter top with it ALL hanging out. She even had hot pants on. She moved too fast for me to get to check out her footwear. Then again, given what was going on the chest region, who had time to check out the footwear.

Like Usher says:
Honey got them boobies like WOW WOW WOW.

Well, when you're 50 and you don't wear a bra, the WOW WOW WOW noise comes from your knees hitting the boobies. No amount of halter/support/whateveryouwanttocall it was going to help her. She wasn't in long. She must have sensed that we weren't on to her boobie/knee music jamboree.

The second individual strolled in looking like he wandered off the set of the Hangover 2. He had on a tux, with a cobalt blue vest, complete with bow tie. As he greeted everyone in the branch (I'm still not sure what this was about because at first I thought he was a politician, then I realized he was probably just nuts), I noticed a few teef up front missing. See, Hangover Part 2. He wasn't in the library for very long either, he needed to get his "papers" and then left. Whatever that meant. I'm not sure who walks into a library wearing a tux, says hi to everyone, then announces loudly that he needs "papers" and then leaves, but I don't care because it's funny.

The third dominatrix to stroll down our catwalk was the loveliest of them all. She insisted: "Sista, you give me two crisp dollar bills" through her mouth of no teeth while she jangled her change.

Now, let me add the disclaimer in here before the American Dental Association and every other hippie dippy nonsensical lovechild comes after me to tell me that I hate people with no teeth. Or that I hate poor people. Or that I hate: (FILL IN THE BLANK).

Here's what I hate: I hate people that are persistent jerks and rude. I have perfectly sweet and lovely patrons with the worst teeth on this planet, or, in some cases, no teeth. But, perfectly sweet and lovely patrons don't make good blog stories. So, before you get your panties in a camel toe or ruin those fancy WalMart tighty whities, think about that or just stop reading, ok?

Now that I have stepped off my soapbox and back on to the runway, Miss Crackhead America 2010 DEMANDED that this SISTA (I'm white, can I be a SISTA?) give her two crisp bills. To humor her, I looked in the change bin and till to see what we had. We didn't have the bills and the till was low on change.

Do you know what Miss Crackhead America 2010 had the nerve to do?

Roll her eyes at me and tell me I'm a fucking bitch.

Yes, I got a master's degree for this.

I'm actually telling myself that it's just the full moon. Because, I already drank a fifth of vodka this week. I'd like to not pickle my liver by the time I'm 50.

And the FOOL moon ridiculous continues

Other insane shit that's happened today:

-This little boy who doesn't listen decided to call 911. I found out about it because 911 called us (well, me) to say that someone from my location called 911. So, I went running around the library trying to figure out if someone was dead, dying, severely injured, in labor, shot, etc. What I found was this smarmy six year old lurking by the circulation desk, looking at the phone. "That little shit," I thought. I gave him "the look" and he scattered. Sometimes, actions say more than your stupid little words ever will, especially when the kid called 911 again on the way out and they called back... again. Little shit, I'm pulling security footage and putting your face on the bulletin board, then pulling you into my questioning room and calling your mother.
-Girl fight. About ten teenage girls ran in here screaming and demanding to be let into the library. The security guard told them to get out. They refused to listen and proceeded to scream like they were being killed. At that point in time, I wanted rip out my uterus and slam it down on the floor and beat the shit out of it so that I can never, ever get pregnant with something that might turn into THAT.
-You fucking fucktard. YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. You always ask me for "ten kid's books about [...]." YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. I show you the section. You look at me stupidly. YOU ARE IN HERE EVERY SATURDAY. I ask you if this is kinda what you're looking for and you look at me with this stupid blank expression on your face. I mean, really? I try to help you out, but at some point in time, wouldn't you kinda start to get a feel for where this shit is? I don't mind helping you out, because it's my job, but when you stand there like Suzy Fucktard, I have to wonder if it's not help you want, but me to just do your damned college reports for you. I guess that's why you stand at my desk like the goddamned dead lice are falling off you and want me to run around and get your shit while I have girl fights, 911 calls, people screaming at me about fines, a little boy wanting to show him how to draw (hi, I can draw stick figures), another person who wants to know what to do because she wants a break, and hoping that I don't piss myself because I drank 40 ounces of Diet Coke for lunch and can't go to the bathroom because you, Miss Preschool Teacher, can't fucking figure out what fucking books about flowers you want to read to some little turd monsters. I guess...
-Scientologists attacked me in the form of needing help with the copier. I was being all nice and then they tried to lure me in with a free book by L. Ron Hubbard. I work in a library, do I need more books in my life?
-Another lady comes in every Saturday and she ALWAYS bitches about the kids on the computers. Today is no different. The thing is, she knows our hours, she knows it's Saturday and the kids come in, she KNOWS. I've told her to call in and get a half an hour computer reservation so that she doesn't have to wait. But, see, that's too easy. It's way too much fun to walk in here and bitch under your breath about the kids and about how they're using "your" computer time and how you just don't know how you'll get your shit done before we close at 6.
-When I went to McDonald's (off library property) I was accosted by a weird man who yelled something at me. I pretended that I needed something off the floor of my car for 5 minutes until he walked away.
-A man insisted that he returned a DVD and that if I didn't take it off his card, it would be because it was some sort of conspiracy against him. Sure.
-I have a substitute security guard in here. He's creepy. He made a joke about sex toys and leered at my chest. Screw you buddy (you wish), you are not coming back to the little lieberry.
-I think that there is a lady in here in a wheelchair that doesn't need to be in a wheelchair. Why? She gets up and scootches her feet and pushes her wheelchair and then rather someone wheeling her along, she moves it with her feet. Ummmmmm... All that I can think of is Ray, from the Trailer Park Boys. Phantom 409 muthafucka.
-Finally (this is an edit from home, after the bubble bath and wine), this guy asks how much time has has left on the computer when it's about 5:47. My response was three minutes, because the computers shut down at ten til the hour. His response (after his 3 minutes are up)? "Lemme get your number here, because I know that you aren't going to give me your cell, are you?" My response? "Branch bookmarks are available at the front desk." Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Me.

Full Moon Bullshit

This woman has been sitting AT MY DESK for about ten minutes.

The entire time, she has been moaning about her disability. Ok, I'm sorry that you are disabled, I know it must be tough not to be able to leave the house when you want to, I know that you must get lonely, but HI, I'm at work. I have payroll to do. I have computer reservations to make for people. I have shit to weed.

She is still sitting at my desk while I'm on hold with a patron.

She tells me that I look busy.

She also tells me "Well, it's easy for you because you work and you want to go home and sit in the quiet and I'm bored and I need you to find something for me to do." I give her lists of things to do at the library and within the community, including information about volunteering.

Thanks for making that judgement call on my life though.

She's still sitting here. My phone just rang again and she pulled back to sit and stare at me. I just got off the phone and I ask her if there's anything else she needs help with.

Blank stare.

I tell her that I'm going to go fax something, let's see if she's still there.

Ok, 20 minutes later, she just left. She was sitting at my desk the entire time, staring at it.

Fucking full moon. Cockroach lady just walked in here. *Shudder*