Wednesday, August 26, 2009M. has The Simple before noon today. She is laughing at everything, even if it's not funny.
"Jake, it's not just The Simple, it's... it's..." She pantomime's like she's squeezing a bouncy ball with both of her palms. "It's like this, Jake. It's Simple Pulp. I'm gonna take the pulp and I'm gonna throw it at you. You're gonna get pulp."
Today at work I received correspondence from Ohiopyle State Park in Pennsylvania. The correspondence contained a neatly typed letter and a small envelope that looked as though ducks had pooped all over it. Ducks, or buffalo.
M: "Ew! It looks like it's been dropped in the sewer."
J: "I'll give you $5 if you lick it from top to bottom."
M: "You will not give me $5."
J: "Yes I will. You won't do it. Gross!"
M: "Give me the envelope."
I handed it to her. Not only did M. lick the crusty disgusting envelope up and down, but after I complained that I couldn't see her tongue touch the poopy paper from where I sat, she did it again!
J: "I'm going to be sick."
M. sang "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" but replaced each animal with a strange accented name. Instead of 'duck,' she said 'duke.' Instead of 'cow,' she said, 'coo." She held her elbows out and her fists in front of her did a little farmer dance while she sang.
As the day progressed and people started going home, M. rearranged the little voodoo doll on her desk. She wrapped scotch tape all around the little woman's face and shoved push pins deep into the top of its head, then she whispered in it's ear, "Shut the f@&# up!" and hung the doll upside down from a plant vine on her desk.
The "Wind Bag" is in for a sucky night.
*On a side note, my cube mate saw the self-portrait M. drew hanging from my wall. She asked what it was. "I dunno," I told her. "What does it look like?"
Cube Mate: "From where I sit, the drawing looks like a horse going into a cave."