Friday, March 31, 2006
"How do you say Elvis in Spanish?"
A tenderhearted woman wanted to know how long skunks nursed, because there was a litter of them in a nest underneath her cottage. “They're right underneath the floorboards and I can hear them mewling. My entire place needs to be fumigated, but I called Animal Control and they said that if they removed them they would have to euthanize them. I can hold out, but I need to know when the end is in sight.”
I told her 8-10 weeks before they’re weaned, and then the juveniles tended to hang around for a few more weeks after that, accompanying their mother on hunting forays before they strike out on their own. Fun fact I learned from this reference question: skunks stamp their feet to express displeasure and warn off unwelcome suitors. I’ve noticed that Spoon the dog stamps her feet when we’re not forthcoming with her dinner or when she wants us to share something we’re eating. Southern Belles in a lot of the old Moonlight and Magnolia romances I used to read tended to stamp their dainty feet, usually to express pique.
I had to quiet some rowdy Germans by the internet terminals.
An elderly African American woman laid her hands on my forehead and blessed me after I found a bunch of sacred texts for her.
The poem Timothy McVeigh read before his execution. Unrepentant to the end!
A colleague talking a hysterical older woman down from a ledge (metaphorically speaking). Her time had run out while she was typing a cover letter and she didn’t know how to save it, so she lost all of her work. She was practically tearing her hair out and rending her clothes. He calmed her down and helped her type her letter. Through jagged breaths and tear hiccoughs she dictated her letter. I was so touched by his kindness and patience. There are so many technologically intimidated, emotionally fragile people at the library who were left in the dust by the Rise of the Machines. I really feel for these people trying to get their lives together and do the right thing despite all of the obstacles they must overcome. Even a city janitorial job must be applied for over the internet now.
A man who looked like an addict wanting to know how to spell the word addict.
A man, shaking and sweating and covered in goosebumps, begged “I’m really sick (you mean dopesick). Would you please call my friend (you mean dealer) for me? I was supposed to meet him here but somehow I missed him. Please, I don’t have any money.” He was so pitiful that I made the phone call for him. “I’ll be back here in this chair.” I watched him walk over and collapse and start rocking back and forth.
A well groomed man wearing an ascot handed me a book he had pinched between his forefinger and thumb. Wrinkling his nose, he informed me, “This book smells FOETID.” He was right.
Man with a crude swastika tattoo on his neck. “I need to find a job.” Consider a turtleneck.
Your blog is ridiculously funny. I only happened upon it by chance, but I've returned several times. Your witty sarcasm is a real pick-me-up.Post a Comment
Keep up the good work!
Keep up the good work!