Something that happened tonight.... I don't remember what exactly it was, whether it was something I said or someone else did or what. It had me laughing so hard I almost piddled myself.
I get that way now and then.
When Vinnie worked the Hive he would just look at me and shake his head and say "You do get tickled, sometimes."
I've come to the realization that working in the Hive is alot like having a personality disorder. You have to be OCD about getting the routine things done every day. You have to do the same things at the same time every day or you get off of your routine and you forget things. And you have to do things the same every day or it upsets the inmates and disorders their fragile little worlds.
You have to have a split personality and you have to able to change from one to the other at the drop of a hat. You go from being a kindly uncle or religious advisor to being Randy "Macho Man" Savage and ready to jump off the top rope onto someones head. A walk through a wing will have you saying the following things one after another:
"So's your mother!"
"I'll see what I can do."
"Go pound sand out your a**!"
"I've read that book, it's a good one. One of his best."
"Yes, it's still 1:30!"
"No, not yet. Maybe later."
"You aren't supposed to be touching him like that!"
"Pardon me? It's ah...... 1:30."
"Go frack yourself."
"You did? Well, don't do that. It hurts."
"Well, ho-dee-do-dah-day! Aint you just a little genius!"
"Sure thing, just as soon as I see him."
"Aww... did I hurt your little feelings?"
"Well, gee! Look at that! It's 1:30!"
"If you would learn to keep your hands to yourself you wouldn't be in here, dumb a**!"
"Damn, I'm sorry. If you need to talk to someone, let me know."
"Last time I looked, it was 1:30, but it seems like that was ten years ago."
And on and on and on......
And we seem to be a little manic-depressive at times. You get pissed off and ready for a fight if it becomes necessary and when it's past the next funny thing someone says is just freaking hilarious. Even if it wasn't really that funny.
I imagine this experience is twisting me in some strange ways. I'll probably end up having to retire to some little unabomber shack way out in the woods so I won't come in contact with regular people and frighten them with my odd adseg ways.
I suspect my days as a social butterfly are probably at an end. Ah, well.....
"The Call of the Riled" - By Jerry Zezima Stamford Advocate If you were to call me on my old iPhone to ask when telephone technology reached its peak, I would have told you it was th...
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