Bulleted List of Song Lyrics

"She's got one magic trick:" Hey, I now weigh 163 pounds, down from 175 a week ago, and pretty much nowhere near the 190 or so I probably should weigh as a 6'4"ian. This is slightly alarming to me, because gaining weight has never really been my forte, and it really makes me wish I had some form of appetite about now. I'm just going to assume that my body will reset itself to 175 as it always does whenever it meanders away from it.

"She wasn't too bright, but from the way she kissed me, I knew she knew how to get her kicks:" Ok, eHarmony, I officially hate you. "Oh look at us. We've got 8 cajillion elements we match to hook you up with someone who is perfect for you!" Well, eHarmony, I think you're missing one of the most important elements: someone who can write a sentence with correct spelling, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. Really, is that too much to ask for? Because if I wanted to date people who can't spell, there are about 8 dozen within a stone's throw. Just sayin.

"And we talked about some old times, and drank ourselves some beers:" My first girlfriend, AJ, contacted me recently. She's doing well. Also, it's good timing, because I could sort of use her insight and advice to deal with some situations going on. I really shouldn't get into it here. And it's really not entertaining. Probably shouldn't be on a blog. Where's my editor?

"Well it's the same old story: Everywhere I go I get slandered. Libeled. I hear words I never heard in the Bible. And I'm oh so tired, but I'm trying to keep my customer satisfied:" There was a story here once.  I wised up and deleted it.

One reason I love my job

Conversations like this:

Client: Who cut my fingernails?
Andy: I don't know.
Client: Who cut my fingernails?
Andy: Um, Santa Claus?
Client: Noooooooo.
Andy: Um, Jesus?
Client: (scoffs) Jesus can't have scissors.

A Conversation From Work

Kelli: So what movies did you watch while you were off?
Andy: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Unforgiven.
Kelli: How'd you like Unforgiven?
Andy: Good. Really good.
Kelli: Yeah, I thought you'd like it. What's next?
Andy: The Sting.
Kelli: Never seen it.
Andy: It's from '73, and it's got ragtime music.
Kelli: Um, ok.
Andy: Should be awesome. I'm considerably more pumped for the '70s than any other decade.
Kelli: Why's that?
Andy: More movies I've heard of, more movies that sound cool.
Kelli: What do you have to watch still?
Andy: Hmm, 70 is Patton. Meh. I've got it, so I'll get it out of the way soon.
Kelli: Yeah, I don't want to see that.
Andy: 71 is The French Connection. I've heard it's cool.
Kelli: Yeah.
Andy: And then we have The Godfather, The Sting, and The Godfather Part II.
Kelli: Man, I wish I could watch those with you.
Andy: Then I've already seen Cuckoo's Nest and Rocky. Network should've won in 76.
Kelli: Hey, I like Rocky.
Andy: And 77 is, is, is... Annie Hall.
Kelli: I don't know how I feel about Woody Allen.
Andy: And 78 was the Friggin Deer Hunter. ::shudders and twitches:: And 79 is Kramer vs. Kramer.
Kelli: Oh my god. I love that movie. Have you seen that one?
Andy: Nope, but I've heard it's really good.
Kelli: Wait, wasn't that from 81?
Andy: No, 1979. 1979 was Kramer vs. Kramer.
Kelli: Oh.
Andy: 81 was, was, Chariots of Fire. 1981 was definitely Chariots of Fire.
Kelli: Guess I was confused.
Andy: Yeah, 1979 was definitely Kramer vs. Kramer. Because 1980 is Ordinary People.
Kelli: Hey, calm down. How many minutes until Wapner?
Andy: (checks watch) Oh no. It's 6:16. I'm definitely supposed to be on break. Definitely going on break now. Can't talk to Kelli while I'm on break. Gotta go to Hardee's on break. Hardee's. (wanders off talking to himself).

Thoughts on Songs I Heard On the Radio, Christmas Edition

"Santa Claus is Coming To Town," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band: I like Bruce Springsteen well enough, but, I don't think there's hope for this song, no matter who sings it. It's designed for four year olds to sing, and I think it should be left to its target audience.

"All I Want For Christmas Is You," Mariah Carey: This has to be the most played Christmas song. I heard it twice yesterday. And as much as I would like to make fun of Mariah Carey, I can't really find much about this song I don't like. I like the full-sounding instrumentation with the ambient bells, I like the use of the back-up singers, I like Mariah eschewing the crazy diva soprano lines in favor of a simple, catchy melody line, and I like the simple, straight-forward lyrics. It's not my favorite Christmas song, but it's upbeat and innocuous, so it can stay in the Christmas canon, as far as I'm concerned.

The Trans-Siberian Orchestra: I'm not sure if the TSO names their songs. The radio never tells me. I have yet to hear a song that does not make me think, "And here's another track from that beloved holiday favorite, Jim Steinman Saves Christmas." Actually, that sounds like a good idea for a Christmas special. Jeff Lynne can play his eccentric, goofy sidekick. Together, they can use the power of bombastic, over-synthesized rock to raise enough money to stop the orphanage from closing. Or rouse Santa from his post-Thanksgiving food-induced slumber in time to deliver the presents to the children of the world. Or melt the heart of closed-minded cynic who has forgotten what Christmas is all about. Really, the script writes itself from this point. Pity the WGA is on strike, otherwise I'm sure they'd jump on this idea.

"Do They Know It's Christmas?" Band Aid: Meanwhile, a group of baritone pop stars banding together to end world hunger with music is a siren song I can't resist. I heard that on my way to Meijer on my break, and had to buy one of their $10 sacks of food to be donated to the food pantry that they have every Christmas, even though I don't have the money to feed myself right now, let alone the world. Then I came back to work and was still singing it, and got in a fight with my coworker Kelli. It went something like this:

Andy: Feed...the...WORLD...
Kelli: God no. No.
Andy: What?
Kelli: I hate that song. Worst Christmas song ever.
Andy: what?? What???
Kelli: That song---
Andy: "Christmas Shoes" is the worst Christmas song ever.
Client: Let them know it's Christmastime!
Andy: Yes. See? That song is awesome.
Kelli: No. It's lame and cheesy.
Andy: No, it's about saving lives.
Kelli: It's still stupid.
Andy: But there won't be snow this Christmastime in Africa.
Kelli: I don't care.
Andy: Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you.
Client: Feed... the... WORLD!
Kelli: Dear God. Are you happy now Andy?
Andy: Let them know it's Christmastime!

Which brings us to today's YouTube.

Just When Mark Trail Was Getting Even Awesomer

My millions of readers.

I apologize for sucking in the near future. You see, my bank account yesterday was sitting pretty at negative $43. Today I got paid, but this paycheck was for the rent, and I basically have almost enough money left to buy gas to get to and from work.

Normally, at times such as these, I'd turn to blogging because it's cheap entertainment for me. However, this time, I'm a little bit too broke, and I'm going to need to turn some overtime, quickly. I could be working for the next 10 days straight, pulling double-shifts 2 out of three times. I'm afraid it might be necessary after the $1000+ of unforeseen expenses killed all of my savings and the last couple paychecks. And my soul via proxy. I find few things as soul-killing as working overtime, and I try to avoid it at all costs.

Seriously, I'm so broke at this point that I'm beginning to twitch as I realize I'm not going to be able to buy pop for the next two weeks. And I buy the $2 Meijer variety. My backup plan is to flirt my way to free fountain pop from the cute chicks at Hardee's who flirt with me. I'm thinking they might just take good looks there.

One Inappropriate Post

Mark Trail: If you don't pay any attention to the dialogue this week, it appears the plot has taken a turn toward phone sex.

Harry Potter: I repurchased Book 6, since my lame younger brother never returned my copy. Hey Aaron, I still want it back. I'll let you have this paperback copy as a birthday present. Ya tool.

Also, I think the greatest testament to the awesomeness of JK Rowlings is that 5 years ago, when I got into Harry Potter, I would find myself defending my enjoyment of the books to some of my non-Potter friends in college. Now, people who don't read them have to defend their disinterest, as if you'd have to be a freak to not enjoy Harry Potter.

Radio: "Dance With Me" came on the radio again today, and solely because Lindzy said she liked it, I listened to it again, and am now prepared to revise my opinion on it. Previously, I simply said, "This song sucks." Now, I mostly stand by that one. However, I do like the bass line pretty well, and the instrumental arrangement gets pretty cool in the middle, although you wouldn't tell from the boring beginning. However, I maintain that it's still a song that does not make me remotely feel like dancing. This is just to show that I value the opinions of my commenters highly enough to challenge my beliefs.

And now I should stop typing, lest I add something inappropriate to this otherwise happy ending.

Because I don't feel like typing, writing, or thinking

I feel like ranking the Traveling Wilburys.

1. Tom Petty
2. Roy Orbison
3. Jeff Lynne
4. Bob Dylan
5. George Harrison

That's how I'd rank them. Any disagreements?

But if they called them Sad Meals, the kids wouldn't buy 'em.

One of the residents on my unit loves toys. When he gets a new toy, he always asks, "Is that for me?" followed by "Is it all mine?" followed by "So I better not break it?" and will then carry the toy around for a week and show everyone he sees.

This resident was having a particularly lousy day, so on my break, I went to McDonald's and purchased a Happy Meal. It took the army of employees they had a good 10 minutes to provide me with the Happy Meal, and I kept thinking "If I were an angry 7 year old, this would be a recipe for disaster." Then I sat down to eat my Happy Meal, and found that the fools had neglected to add a toy to my Happy Meal. Worse, there was still a line back almost to the door, so I couldn't very well get my Happy Meal toy without pushing my way to the front of the line.

Now, the whole time I'm waiting in line, I keep trying to convince myself that there are plenty of reasons why someone like me would be buying a Happy Meal. Perhaps I have a child and will give him a toy when I get home. Perhaps I'm a toy collector, as I have known people with pretty sweet collections of old Happy Meal toys. Perhaps I'm a Psychiatric Attendant attempting to do something nice for a resident. But I still get a lot of weird looks from everyone when I order the Happy Meal, and then a whole lot more when I come back up to the counter to complain about how I did not get a toy with my Happy Meal.

Then they give me a toy. It's a toy American Idol iPod. And it doesn't work. It's supposed to play music, but it doesn't, so instead of a toy iPod, I now have a small white plastic rectangle with a clip on it. This was, without a doubt, the saddest Happy Meal in history.

Also, I would write about my trip tonight, but I have a date, with Jeff. We're going to watch Fargo since he has never seen it and loves The Big Lebowski. I'll write some on it tomorrow night.

Cleaning, Comedy, Comics, Conversation, Candy

Here's an update into the always exciting life of me:

1. Spring cleaning: Is going to take all spring at this rate. However, there is good news to report. The areas that have been cleaned, have stayed clean. This has never happened before. I just might, might, be on the verge of a breakthrough.

2. work: A conversation with one of my clients:

Client: Andy, y-y-you shaved your goatee!
Andy: Yeah, thanks for noticing.
Client: W-w-w-why'd you d-d-do that?
Andy: Because you told me to.
Client: I did?
Andy: Remember what you told me last week?
Client: To shave so you'd be handsomer like me.
Andy: Right.
Client: (Pause) I'm still handsomer than you.
Andy: Go away, [client].

3. Mark Trail: I'm going to have to start a Mark Trail themed blog. I read it every day and involuntarily laugh at all the inadvertant hilarity. It's a gold mine of awesome, and I feel obligated to point it out to the masses. Only I'm too busy this week, because...

4. Vacation! I'm going up to Minneapolis this week to visit my third college roommate, Nando! It will be awesome. And I won't be able to blog, I imagine. In stark contrast to every other week, when this blog is so productive and all.

Yes. Yes it does.

Andy: Hey [client], what do you know?
Client: huh??
Andy: I said, 'Hey [client], what do you know?'
Client: Oh.
Andy: Well?
Client: The Earth is getting warmer and warmer. Science proves it.
Andy: Wow. That was both true and unexpected.
Client: huh??
Andy: Nevermind. Thanks.
Client: Oh. You're welcome.

-----

Now then, I'm not saying that this client is more qualified to be president than the President or anything, I'm just saying it's an interesting theory that merits further study.

Break Time

No, not from blogging, even though Not Blogging seems to be all the rage these days. I'm not that hip.

Instead, this post is about what I do on my daily break at work. I have a generous 45 minute break, which gives employees enough time to go home or drive to a fast food restaurant to get a meal. The problem is that I live 30 minutes from my place of employment, and I consider fast food to be a luxury I can't afford, which is sad, because I think if I ate a little bit more fast food, I might actually gain back some of the six pounds I've already lost since January. Grumble.

But back to the matter at hand: breaks. Every day I get stranded in Richmond for 45 minutes with nothing to do except escape to a quieter place to get a refill of therapeutic resolve and diet cola. It would take about 10 minutes to drive to Meijer or Kroger, so running errands is usually out. I usually eat a complete and tasty meal with a double-portion of dessert at the hospital cafeteria for a mere fifty cents, so eating isn't a priority either. Since we don't have the staff to send two people at once, socializing cannot be accomplished. I have 45 minutes with nothing to do, every day I work.

Luckily for me, Nothing is pretty much what I do even when given a choice.

The usual break starts with a short, three minute drive to Village Pantry, during which the oldies radio station will often play a Billy Joel song. They play Billy Joel quite frequently.

Once I arrive at Village Pantry, I buy myself a refill of diet cola and possibly a snack of some kind, depending on if I brought anything from home. My snack is usually of the Gummi variety: sharks, worms, Sour Brite Nite Crawlers, or Swedish Fish are the usuals. I notice, when I purachase these gummi comestibles, that the Gonzo Candy Company that packages them offer smaller .59 or 2/$1 bags, and larger .99 bags of the same type of candy. The thing is, you get more gummi candy if you buy 2 of the 2/$1 bags than if you buy a .99 bag, and yet the bigger .99 bags are nearly always sold out while 2/$1 bags are in abundance.

I am seriously craving some Swedish Fish about now. Back to my post.

After my purchase and my daily yakking with the friendly VP staff, I meander toward the nifty booths they have set up and pick up a Palladium Item to read on the way. A lot of people around here criticize the Pal-Item, saying its coverage leaves much to be desired, but I find it suits the area. It covers a lot of local events in depth while leaving national news to other media that have more time and space to cover them better. I don't read about these local events, because I do not give a care, but I still respect the idea behind them.

Instead, I flip straight to the comics. I'm pretty lenient on daily comics, as I'm not sure I could come up with something patently hilarious every day if I had to. My general rule is that if a comic is funny a couple times a week, then it's ok. Regrettably, there are more than a few comics that fail to do this for me, so I have to do my own work to make them funny. For instance, Garfield can often be improved immensely if you ignore all of Garfield's thought balloons. It suddenly becomes a dark and disturbing strip about a lonely man obsessed with his cat. I read that online somewhere. I have no clue where. It's been noted in many places that you can improve The Family Circus by writing your own captions. Using tried and true techniques such as this, there are only a few comics that remain unreadable. I have yet to come up with a method for improving Dennis the Menace, and I really don't have the patience to read For Better Or For Worse, which typically is about 100 words too long in very small print spoken by characters who all look exactly alike without a punchline to be seen, so I can't help you there. Old people love it, so I'd ask one of them. The worst part of the Pal-Item comics is that there are no "serious" comic strips. My life would be more complete if I could make fun of Rex Morgan and The Phantom on a daily basis.

I then read my horoscope. Every day it says some variation of "Get off your ass and do something for a change." Every day I ignore it, just to spite those smarmy stars and their "advice." From the horoscope, it's on to Dear Abby, who recently fielded a letter asking if it's rude to tell a husband not to track deer blood all over the house after he goes hunting. Abby says it is, but the matter was up for debate again in a later column.

Finally, I head over to the always frightening Viewpoints section. This is where the editors of the Pal-Item really shine. Rather than simply asking for "Letters to the Editor," which require some form of literacy, they devised a feature they call "Sound Off", where readers simply call the office and rant for a few minutes, at which point the editors deem it fit to print. Hilarity ensues. Here's my personal favorite:

Universal health care is about the end of the world. Read the Bible and read Revelations -- it's coming down to the end. We're letting all these illegal people in here and giving them rights? And they're taking our Social Security and everything else? I've been disabled for a year and fighting disability and can't get it because of the illegal immigrants getting Social Security that don't even belong in this country. And they're complaining? Right now, they need to get them out of here. They don't belong here in the first place. The end of the world is coming, people. Read your Bible. Get ready.

As expected, after the opinion section, I've had my fill of Completely Normal People and return to work a broken and morose man. If I do my job well enough, my clients will become functional, healthy citizens like that gentleman.

At Least He's Honest...

[Client that keeps hitting me in the head]: See you tomorrow, sir.
Andy: Good night, [pt.]
C: See you tomorrow.
A: Good night.

10 minutes later...

C (stepping out of his room): Can I come out now?
A: Where are you going?
C (calmly): I'm gonna go hit somebody. (sprints away at full speed)
A: huh? Wait! No! Stop!

*****

The frustrating part about all of this is that I'm the staff that he likes. When he first came, I could redirect him, talk him down, take him for walks, and all that good therapeutic stuff. Now, I'm perpetually guarded when around him, because he's so unpredictable. He's still polite to me, but it's difficult to be as open as I was around him on account of his randomly administered beatings. I feel like I should be making a much better effort towards figuring out his needs and what makes him tick, but instead I put more effort into keeping the other clients, my coworkers, and myself safe.

One reason there are so many bad mental health workers is that it is so hard. It's hard to keep an open mind toward a client who continually beats on people. It's hard to keep one's patience when a client asks for the same things he is not allowed to have approximately 18 times every shift and will argue every word you say. It's hard to feel good about going into work when one's shoulder is still sore from the last takedown. It's hard to address the cooperative clients' needs regularly when a few uncooperative clients demand the attention of the entire staff.

If it's Wednesday...

...then a patient will try to hit me in the head before the night is over.

This is getting really old, really quickly. Luckily, due to my cat-like reflexes, superior coordination, and all around manly physique, he didn't land any, and we assisted him to his room without injury to anyone.

Ok, actually, what happened was Jean, the night shift attendant who always shows up about 15 minutes early for her shift, came into the hall and dragged him back to his room, while I held my arms up and yelled, "I NEED SOME HELP!" while absorbing punches. Absolutely no cat-like reflexes or manly physiques were involved, so I suppose I'll have to rest my laurels on my superior coordination, due to the fact that I didn't manage to trip over myself while retreating down the hall and screaming in fear while absorbing punches before I could get saved by a middle-aged woman. Who doesn't listen to Neil Diamond or drink Diet Coke.

OW

Ow. Violent autistic patient. oof. Hard left hook. Ugh. Occipital lobe area. Ouch. Concentration not too good. Ack. Not concussed though. Can't get out of anything. Ick. Cold Compress leaking ooze of indeterminate substance.

So how was your day?

A Therapeutic Environment

Scene: Shift report, Nurses' Office, 2:30 pm.

Nurse: It's been rough today. The patients are all agitated, and that got the staff agitated and on edge, and for a while it was hard to tell who was the patient and who was the staff.

Scene: Outside the Nurses' Station, 45 min. later.

Patient: H-h-h-h-h-h-hey Andy! Do-doin' alright?
Andy: Well, not really.
Patient: Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh what's wrong?
Andy: [Patient A] was yelling at me, then [Patient B] started yelling at me, and then [Patient C] started yelling at me. Everybody's yelling at me today.
Patient: Nnn-nn-nn-n-n-nn no, I'm not gonna yell at you.
Andy: Well, I appreciate that.
Patient: I llllike you. You're n-n-n-nice.
Andy: Thanks, [patient].
Patient: Y-y-y-you're w-w-welcome, welcome. I like you.

Worse Than Expected

Sorry, I've got kind of a downer of a post today.

Today was my first day back after my run-in with a patient on Saturday, as I wisely called in sick on Sunday and had Monday off anyway. I would be lying if I said that I was not at all apprehensive about stepping back onto the unit. It's weird to feel nervous about going to work, wondering how my still very visible battle wounds are going to affect my patients' temperaments and if my mere presence is going to cause conflicts.

I slept in a lot later than I thought I would, and when I woke up, I noticed it was snowing quite heavily. This made me happy. I love snow. I love winter. 20 minutes later I came to the realization that my car now had its first winter driving test, and it failed miserably.

(Digression: Who in the world actually likes long cars? They suck way too much gas, are difficult to park, and much, much more difficult to control on a slick road when turning. Is there an advantage to them outside of legroom that I'm failing to see? I drive a 1995 Dodge Intrepid because it was all I could afford to buy at the time, and I routinely rue the fact that it's so honking big that it's awkward to park it most anywhere. Anyway, my car slides a lot during turns. A lot. I'm not used to this in the slightest, and joined the 360 club after getting off of the interstate on my way home. Then a giganto truck had the nerve to tailgate me on an icy road for the entirety of my trip. How close was he following me? Close enough that his headlights actually outshone mine. Who does that? But back to the story.)

There was apparently some form of accident on 70, as I got stuck on the highway long enough that I was 15 minutes late to work despite the fact that I left 10 minutes earlier than usual, and I usually get to work about 6 minutes ahead of time. My coworkers were relieved to see me, as they thought I was simply calling in again or worse, just not showing. However, I was stressed from my drive, which was also complicated by snowflakes turning to ice as soon as they hit my windshield, making it impossible to see out of and impossible to clear once the ice attached itself to the wipers in addition to the sliding, icy conditions and the stopped traffic, and was thus unable to deal with that beloved patient standby, the bum rush.

"H-h-h-h-hey Andy. How's it g-g-goin?"
"Hey, Andy, can you tell Ruth I have privileges now and let me out?"
"HI DAVID ANDY! Is that Jerry Jarvis? Am I being good? Come 'ere and tell me what's for lunch today!"
"Can I have some gum, Andy?"
"Hey whatsyername, can I get my snack? I didn't get my snack!"

On a normal day, this would've been easily manageable simply by saying, "Guys, I've got to get the shift report. I can talk to you after we get out," and they'll dissipate. Today I had no such luxury, since shift report was over, and couldn't get away. Plus, very few were receptive to my evasive techniques, and I absolutely had to find out what was going on with the patient that attacked us on Saturday and if any of the other patients were reacting to him. As a result, I had a very difficult time getting the patients to leave me alone for long enough to get this information, and the tone of my day was set with me trying to get away and being unable to.

As it turned out, the violent patient was not at all better and still causing serious problems. Multiple codes had been called to get him under control the previous day, and he had been threatening to attack a few of the evening shift staff all weekend, myself included. As a result, he was on one-to-one precaution for protection of others, and I would be sitting with him on my own for an hour.

It was bad. Really bad. He was looking for a fight, but he's not dumb enough to go after staff. For that matter, he's not dumb enough to go after his peers. When he wants to fight, he wants to be sure that he doesn't throw the first punch so he can claim he's defending himself. What he did do was threaten and intimidate and insult any patient around that he thought would respond violently to him, and when I went to stop him, he turned around and threatened violence against me. This is not particularly scary, as it's just a method to get attention, and as I said, he's not dumb enough to actually attack staff. He wanted me to come after him, and when I didn't, he ratcheted up his obnoxiousness by knocking over the laundry cart, taking all of the magazines from the common room, and demanding that everyone watch what he wants, in hopes that staff would call a code or try to take him down. And every hour, he had a different staff to irritate, always trying to goad staff into crossing a line.

Not only was this exhausting, but it also made all of the other patients, especially the more excitable ones, angry and edgy. From after dinner to bedtime, there was no downtime on the unit, just constant movement from one patient to another to de-escalate them. It was a losing battle, but we managed to stop all of the major conflicts.

After work, our evening shift staff all worked together to dig out our cars, and then left as a group. I am fortunate enough to work with an excellent staff, but everyone on my shift has an application in to work elsewhere. In a couple months, I may be the only one left on the unit with a bunch of rookies, and I only have four months in myself. This, also, is a bummer.

And now I'm home. My apartment is a messy wreck, even worse than usual, but I don't have the energy to do anything but sit in front of a screen and veg out, either surfing the internets or playing a game.

And from the looks of it, tomorrow will be much the same.

Astrology, Simplified

Female Patient: Andy, you're a Libra, right?
Me: No.
FP: What are you then?
Me: Sagittarius.
FP: So you were born in December, right?
Me: Yeah, why do you know that?
FP: I'm a Scorpio because I was born in November.
Me: So what's that say about you?
FP: I dunno. Can you get me a horoscope?
Me: Sure. (Quickly prints out a Yahoo! Horoscope for her)
FP: "Scorpio: If someone is getting on your last nerve, today is the day to stop the madness."
Me: Want me to explain it to you?
FP: Yeah. NO! No!
Me: It won't take me long.
FP: NO! Ok.
Me: All right, who gets on your nerves the most around here?
FP: (Points at me)
Me: Right. And what's the best way to get me to stop?
FP: Do what you say.
Me: Right again. So your horoscope means "Listen to everything I say and do what I tell you to."
FP: But you tell me to do mean and evil things.
Me: No I don't. What mean and evil things do I tell you to do?
FP: Take a shower and go to classes.
Me: That's not mean and evil. That's the natural order of things, and it says down here not to fight it. Your horoscope says you should listen to me, do what I say, take a shower, and go to classes.
FP: (Walks away, crumples up the horoscope and throws it in the trash)

Professionalism

A couple of quotes from coworkers. I wasn't there for the first one, but I did hear the second.

Alicia: He has a fucker face.
Jerry: What'd you say?
Alicia: His face is like plastic, no expression. You know, like the card game.
Jerry: A poker face?
Alicia: In the Phillippines, it sounds like 'fucker'.
Erica: Alicia, you should never play poker with anyone.
Jerry: Wait, so how do you say 'fucker'?
Alicia: 'Fucker.'
Jerry: Oh.

And the second:

Claudia: I want to see the new movie with that black guy.
Christy: The one with Will Smith?
Claudia: No, not that black guy.
Christy: Oh, I heard 'movie with that black guy' and thought of Will Smith.
Claudia: This black guy isn't black. He's white.
Christy: What?
Andy: Oh wait, you mean Jack Black?
Claudia: Yeah, that's him.
Erica: I've heard that's a pretty good one, actually.