Tuesday, February 17, 2009

And I Don't Mean the Cereal

Last week my brother and I went to the post office because we both had packages to ship. I’d sold my second pair of earrings from my Etsy store, and my brother sold a collection of comic books to a man in England. We both had completely blanked on the concept of filling out a customs form for his package, and after waiting in line to get to the clerk, we found ourselves leaving the line to fill out the form, and then having to get back in line again for another eternal wait.

As he was filling out the form, I recognized a patron from our library in line and I quickly turned around so she wouldn’t see my face and recognize me. Silently, I pleaded with him to fill out the form slower, which he didn’t pick up on and soon we had moved to stand in line behind the dreaded patron.

This package he was shipping was going to cost $70, so we were taking turns holding it, trying to figure out how much it weighed. I never dreamed she’d turn around and want to participate, but then again…

Crazy Bitch: Did you say that’s going to cost $70 to ship?

Bro: Yeah, to England.

Oh no! He’s talking to it! Don’t make eye contact! Don’t make eye contact!

I hadn’t warned my brother about her. I just turned around and tried to ignore her. I could only save myself.

Crazy Bitch: How heavy is it?

Bro: I really don’t know. More than ten pounds, I’m guessing.

She reached over and put the box on her hand so she could lift it. Evidently her arm is an acutely calibrated scale. My eyes were rolling and I had my back to her, trying really hard to make all my irritated faces at anyone but her.

Crazy Bitch: Oh, this has to be at least twenty pounds, maybe twenty-five!

Bro: You think? I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised, but I don’t know.

Her arm needs to be recalibrated because the box was 12 pounds.

Crazy Bitch: Yeah. Easy. Maybe more.

Bro: Okay.

Meanwhile, I was still facing the opposite direction, trying not to look directly at the fellow in line behind us, who’d taken a step back since I turned around and faced him. Occasionally I would smile at him, and then I’d look away while rolling my eyes and gritting my teeth as the conversation continued behind me.

There was silence and she finally turned around in line again until she decided to whirl around and scare the living daylights out of me.

Crazy Bitch: I went to high school with you two, you know?

Bro: Oh really?

Crazy Bitch: Yeah, what year did you graduate?

Bro: ’96.

Crazy Bitch: Me too. So we all went together.

This was when I couldn’t stay silent another moment if just to disengage her from belief that we were at all connected.

Me: No, I graduated in ’91 so I never set foot in the same school as you.

I immediately turned around and faced the guy behind me again, who looked like he might be getting used to my intrusion.

Crazy Bitch: But you probably knew my sister. Did you know Cindy Brown?

I turned half-way back.

Me: Nope. Never heard of her.

Crazy Bitch: Well, she was a stuck-up snob anyway. Did you know Mark Jones? Steve Smith?

Me: Nope.

Crazy Bitch: Hmm. Did you know—

Me: I don’t remember many people from high school, so there’s no point in asking.

Crazy Bitch: But you and I went to school together.

She motioned to my brother with her head. He shrugged and looked away. I think he was finally picking up my lead.

A clerk at the desk became available and she was called over, thankfully. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve been able to stand there and try not to talk to her before I would’ve snapped. And it would’ve happened. And it wouldn’t have been pretty.

My brother didn’t ask what was going on there, but I felt compelled to explain.

Me: She’s cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs.

Bro (laughing): Oh really?

Me: She comes into the library and we’re scared of her. When we got in line behind her, I just kept dodging her gaze so we wouldn’t make eye contact. She’s fucking cuckoo. For fucking Cocoa-Puffs.

He laughed. I didn’t elaborate until we got back out to the car, for fear that her cuckoo ears could hear us and she’d go ape-shit.

I wrote about her once upon a time on a former blog, so some of you old-timers might remember this story.

She was walking around the library and she heard one of our staff members using “gang words”. She claimed to know what “gang words” are, and he was using them. The poor librarian she grabbed to report this to didn’t take her seriously enough, so she reported this librarian to the director. According to her, we were employing a librarian who was an obvious gang member because he was using “gang words”, and another librarian who didn’t want to get the gang member in trouble, so she disregarded the complaint.

I told you. Fucking cuckoo. For fucking Cocoa-Puffs.

So, in my post about her, I wrote the following:

I was dying to ask what words were “gang words,” because I wasn’t aware of them having ownership or sole rights to any words. That probably would’ve been on the news.

“This just in! The Happyville-6 gang has officially purchased/won the rights to certain words, which are for their use and their use alone! Do not use these words! If you are heard using these words, you will be subject to whatever punishment the Happyville-6 chose to inflict upon you. The words you are no longer allowed to use unless you are a member of Happyville-6 are now flashing on your screen. Do not use these words!” And on the TV screen you saw flashing in large white lettering, “Soliloquy, hubris, agog, sassafras.” The anchorperson was aghast and then went on to say that more words were still in negotiation, but that these four words were not to be used by anyone outside of the Happyville-6 gang.

Yeah, well, I never saw that on the news, so my guess is this woman was probably wound a little too tight.
Or she was cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs.

Things pretty much went nowhere with me that day, and she decided to call the mayor and the governor to report this all about her local library, because no one seemed to be doing anything about it. I wrote up an incident report about her and the mayor told me later she called him. He essentially told her to get over it, it’s a public building, and other such intelligence, which she ignored.

People don’t understand why I shop two counties away.

At least when I run into people there who are cuckoo for Cocoa-Puffs, I don’t have a history with them.

10 comments:

Lummox said...

Could be worse.
She could have been Frankenberry.

Happy Villain said...

Actually, we have a guy we call Frankenberry, too. He looks just like him. When you consider all the flakes we see everyday, it's obvious we're nothing but a big bowl of cereal. Just add milk.

Lummox said...

Can I be the wheat chex?!?!?!

Happy Villain said...

I was kinda hoping you'd be Froot Loops, even though I've heard your a bit of a Banana Nut Crunch, but you can be any cereal you want, as long as I get to call you Sugar Puffs.

Leelu said...

I call Grape Nuts! :D

Happy Villain said...

And I'm Smacks!

Bobby said...

And I thought I was always super sugar smacks.

I do give super sugar tho.

Cat. said...

I'm not sure what it means that I do actually remember this patron of yours from "way back."

Perhaps it means I'm stalking your weird patrons through you. ;-)




OMG the capcha word is "prick"!!!! Holy shit!

Happy Villain said...

Bobby:
You can be Sugar Smacks if I can just be Smacks, because mine are not about sugar. :)

Cat:
Stalk them from afar. Some are dangerous in proximity. That's the best capcha ever, even though mine, which is "ditty", is kinda cute.

Leelu said...

I have nothing more to add, except that my word is "ganking." *snerk*