I haven’t been feeling great the last few days, so coming to work from a 4-day weekend today was rough. As I walked down the street this morning I wasn’t feeling much like chatting, so when a man hollered at me that he “liked the way I worked it” something came over me and I faked a coughing attack, while hoarsely warning that if he walked any closer to me that I would throw up on him.
I am genuinely concerned that I may be conforming to my surroundings.
Myself and 13 of skid row’s finest men and women headed out to the Dodgers game last night. Normally, I would back-up Sportscenter’s highlights reel, but for this game, mine actually may be better:
— My two male residents that decided they were so happy to be at the game that they would dance to “Rollin on a River” for a solid 30 minutes…the song however, was not actually playing.
–The older (non-resident) gentleman sitting a few rows back who stated “I don’t know what the h*ll that blonde girl is doing in the middle of that group of men, but golly, she sure knows a lot about the Dodgers.”
Continue reading “batter up.”
Mr. C: Miss, I have decided that since you check on on me daily to see how I am doing, I am going to start doing the same for you
Me: Oh you are, what is your planned intervention?
Mr. C: I am going to start bringing a scale into your office and having daily weigh-ins, if you don’t gain a pound or two then I don’t have to do what you tell me to.
Me: I am flattered that you feel this way, but I am not going to be stepping on any scale.
Mr. C: Fine, then will you at least eat this (pulling an open candy bar out of his pocket)?
The dialogue that ensued when my resident Mr. V came in this morning carrying a rather large plant (on rollers, mind you):
“Miss R, I know your birthday is on Friday and you thought I’d forget, so I bought you this plant. I considered buying something else, since you already have plants on your desk that are dead, but I decided you should have this one…Oh! and if you kill this one I am going to run away from home.”
(followed by him actually running out of my office)
I received a “Thank You” card from one of my favorite (I know, I know, I should have favorites — so sue me) residents today that was so sweet I didn’t even mind that it was addressed to “Mr. R,” both on the outside envelop and inside message.
Mr. G: You sure look pretty today, like a beauty queen!
Me: Oh stop it Mr. G, you are so sweet.
Mr. G: No, I mean it, you are prettier than Miss USA!!
Me: Oh Mr. G, you are so kind, I am so flattered (blushing a little)!
Mr. G: Oh Miss, I really do mean it, have you seen her? She is ug-ly!