Middle age lady got on the subject of King Arthur (the movie). She told me that when she had first gotten married, she was in an amorous mood and wanted to watch King Arthur with her husband, but her husband turned down the offer. So she threw the video in the fire place because "you don't mess with a woman when she's in the mood" since "women usually aren't in the mood." She proceeded to allude to the fact that King Arthur still gets her turned on, "which is hard to do, for an old woman," referring to herself. (Disclaimer: perhaps my age gauge is a little off, and she is not middle age.) What really took the cake though was when she moved her body in ways I have never done - and I am a married woman.
BLECKKK!
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I host a monthly craft program at the local assisted living facility. Today's craft involved painting. I was helping a gentleman paint, and he dropped his brush. I bent to pick it up but stopped when I noticed it landed in his, um, crotch. I retracted my hand. He laughed and said, "Careful what you're grabbing there."
A library that I was once employed at had unceasing issues with the phone lines. One day, the company that was attempting to fix the issues called the library, and I answered. The gentleman on the other end of the line, bless his heart, asked if the phones were working...
..... Do I really need to explain the punch line here? Yesterday, I visited the local assisted living facility. A sweet old woman who likes to hug me and tell me that I "just glow" approached me for a hug. I noticed at the last second she moved aside so that the hug felt crooked. "You have to hug heart to heart," she explained. "A lady taught me that years ago, and I try to remind myself. I was weak, and she hugged me, and I still felt weak. But then she hugged me heart to heart, and she could not move my arm [implying she was strong]."
Ms. Paranoid paid us a visit. She asked for my assistance "unlocking" her phone. She knew the passcode to unlock her screen. That was not the issue.
Neither of us were really sure what the issue was. The clues she gave me were that neither her "Tube" nor her news app were working. Oh, and her weather app. I was astonished to learn that flip phones were even being manufactured let alone equipped with smart phone capabilities. I noticed Ms. Paranoid was wearing gloves - not sanitary gloves. Like, winter gloves. It was April. Plus, we were inside. When she asked me if I wanted to "wipe off my hands" before touching her phone, suddenly the gloves made sense. I could only think of Young Sheldon. The entire time I was going through the settings, the phone quietly talked to me, reading off all the options on a given screen over and over. I looked up the website URL that she had received in a mysterious text telling her that her phone may or may not be unlocked and that she needed to check the status. The website seemed legit, but the whole checking-of-status thing was not working. I asked all the normal troubleshooting questions I had been trained to ask. She flipped through the instruction brochure that had come with the phone. She found the "article" about setting up a passcode on your phone to keep other people from using it. You know, the thing we all have on our phones to keep our annoying family members from hacking our social media. Well, Ms. Paranoid pointed out the "article" and literally began having a panic attack, while claiming she was being scammed. "They are scamming me. Whoever that number was that texted. Now they have control of my phone." After I calmed her down, she laughed hysterically to herself and could not even speak to me for about 12 hours. She admitted that she has anxiety and that "everything is a scam these days" and mumbled something to herself about how she/we "almost had an episode there." If you are still reading this (thank you, you are a wonderful person) and are wondering what the technical difficulty was, I figured out the problem was that the phone was not connected to wifi. Guess that should have been my first question. I host a monthly program for veterans. There is one vet who is, well, to put it bluntly, in love with me. The first time he confessed his love by saying he wished he was 50 years younger after seeing me, and I'm pretty sure I expressed my flattery but mentioned I was already married. He did not seem to think that mattered. The next time I saw him, he asked, "Are you ready?
"For what?" "To elope." I tried to politely joke that I would think about it and then handed him like 5 cookies to take home. I believe he has diabetes, but that fact is unbeknownst to his sweet tooth. Before that encounter was even over, another vet tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I had ever been hugged by a 94-year-old man, to which I replied I had not and hugged him. He then said something that tore my heart: "I don't get hugged very often." And before I could even respond, another vet said, "Do you like my shirt?" He opened his jacket to reveal a shirt that read, "Jesus is my Savior. Trump is my president." It has officially happened. I have had to scrub a poopy toilet.
Like, a really poopy toilet. That's all. No story really. Just disgust mostly. In a completed unrelated topic, if you hear mention of my library bathroom being set on fire, just know that I am a law-abiding citizen and would never, ever definitely not dream of committing such a crime... Okay thanks bye This is not so much a funny story as it is an observation - more specifically, the description of a t-shirt of a not-so-chipper patron. It read something like this: "If you think I'm a b!tch, then you are fu*k!ng wrong. Actually, no you are right."
A grandmother approaches me and says, "I promise this is not a joke... Can you help me find Waldo?"
Remember the veteran who was in love with me? He still is.
And he is as determined as ever to get me to be his girlfriend. Even though he admitted he is married. And according to him, his wife has "no sense of humor" when it comes to him making jokes about dating other women. Being a wife and knowing I would make my husband sleep on the lawn if he said something like that to another woman, I replied, "I probably would not like it either." With a laugh, of course. |
AuthorThe author, Ivadell Grayson, resides in a relatively small town and is employed at the library of said town. She is happily married and lives in a quaint house with her darling husband, cat, and dog. |