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Anyway, I have been so busy with homeward bound euphoria that I've completely forgotten to dread having to deal with all of the many, many people at PublishingMart that I have enjoyed not seeing for months. All I've thought about is the handful of people who I can't wait to see, leaving no time to devote to planning to avoid the weirdos (in a bad way), freaks (in a bad way), and bitches (in a bad way) who litter the landscape. I mean, I am kind of looking forward to seeing just how much Chubs has expanded her parameters, but then I'll have to talk to her -- bleh. There's also Canadian Alcoholic Who Keeps Hitting on Me to avoid, the people who were so popular that they had to have two wedding receptions, and Bitchy ex-boss (x 2). There's Too-Lazy-to-Walk scooter lady who cuts her own hair (although rarely washes it), Crazy Vindictive Woman who offered me a job in her department and hasn't spoken to me since I turned her down, and scores and scores of Can't Think for Myself people. On the home front, there's the pedophile across the street to plot against.
Back to the plus side: I am looking forward to the spring and early summer freak show at PubMart when temps are bussed in by the hundreds (not really -- they drive their own Yugos and Dodge Darts and clog up the parking lot to the point that we sometimes have to remember where we parked by what color cow we're parked near. Then you're really fucked when the cows wander off, as they will.). These people live on the ragged edge of society and work this particular temp job annually because they are incapable of doing anything else. They all glare at the regular employees in resentment for some imagined conspiracy, like we're Townies. They tend to dress a bit (ahem) eccentrically, favoring weird hats and white socks. There's one guy who wears a toupee so bad that it's commonly known as a hair hat. They tend to have odd hair growth patterns, growing hair where none should be and not growing hair on their heads. Really, I once saw a dude with a hairy nose. Not hairy nostrils. A hairy nose. On the first day, the newbies come in wearing suits and carrying briefcases, but by day 3, they're rolling in in their jammies. It's like having a curbside seat at a clown parade. Oh, dregs of society with college degrees. You give me hope.
17 days to go.
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