Friday, November 16, 2007

Johnny Cash Friday or, Soft Serve Ice Cream With Corn

Is everybody wearing black? I like to wear black on Fridays because of my long-standing Johnny Cash Friday tradition. If you visit the interior ladies bathroom of the library on any given Friday, you may hear me singing Folsom Prison Blues. If I know that you're there, I'll stop singing though.

Yesterday I picked up some poop in the Children's Department of the library. I did not go into work thinking, "Gotta touch base with the new Adult Services Librarian, set up for my independent film, write on that damn grant else am I forgetting here? Oh, yeah, look around for some stanky shit to pick up." Honestly, I didn't go looking for it. I just heard some stiffled screams coming from the C.D., saw some of my co-workers fleeing the area and knew that whatever was happening was going to be too good to miss.

Let me set this up further for you guys who were not there: Cute rug with little images of a school house, police department, church...nice quiet residential tree-lined streets...a couple of late-model die-cast emergency personnel vehicles (too late to stop the perp, it seems)...and what looks like two piles of soft serve chocolate ice cream with corn-topping. "It looks like it's firmed up, but damn, that's sick," claims my friend and co-worker the ebony enchantress. I look at it and observe that this is not something that has slipped out of a diaper. This was calculated trou dropping. Man, I'm cursed, right? This is because I love the word scatological, right? No one wants to touch it, and frankly, I don't blame them. I'm momentarily taken back in time to Warren Tech Horticulture where I would have to double-bag and pick up the dead rabbit carcases that were unceremoneously left behind by the greenhouse cats (because my students were usually frozen by the sight of something that was a little too real-life and unsanitary for them-when it is still warm and has an odour and is right at your feet, it's just a little different than TV).

So, when I'm faced with a problem like this, I just act. I double-bagged and picked up both piles. I admit that my gag reflex kicked in once, but only because the enchantress had been wrong. It had not firmed up.


The Mad Grad said...

I don't even think the inmates in Folsom have to pick up kiddy poop. I hope Monday isn't quite as shitty :-)

Robin O'Loxley said...

Some days you're the poop, some days you're the scoop.

I can't even comment on the corn without getting... ehrm... nauseous... 'scuse me...