Mensan

A couple of years ago I got divorced and moved to St. Louis for a fresh start. For a while I worked for a temp agency doing generic part-time office work. Not bad, especially since it allowed me to get to know an unfamiliar city and meet a few people. A few weeks into it I got an assignment at a special education facility. The only thing like it in the country, this organization provided special education services for an entire county. If, for whatever masochistic reason, you wanted to be on the cutting edge of special education, you would go and work here. I started out working in the back administrative offices filing and doing some basic data entry. The management and my co-workers apparently liked me because after a month they offered me a full-time job. I thought this was awesome, and not just because it paid pretty well for unskilled office work. It really helped my wounded self-esteem coming out of the divorce. It gave me someplace to go everyday where I could feel I belonged. I still hadn't made any friends, really, and I was frankly getting pretty lonely. When I came on full time management moved me to the lobby's reception desk. I worked in the administrative offices so I mostly dealt with employees and potential employees. I'd never done reception before and it was actually pretty fun. Plus, a lot of young doe-eyed women fresh from college worked there as special education teachers so there was the bonus of looking at pretty girls all day, though I was strictly forbidden from flirting with any of them. For the most part I worked alone, greeting and briefly chatting with the steady stream of people coming in and going out. My long, crescent moon of a desk faced the doors. Behind me were two hallways leading into a maze of cubicles. To my left was a small sitting area. To my right was a community library filled with brochures, books and videos on all aspects of what it means to be a "special needs" kid. I learned a lot in my time at The District, as we called it. For instance, I didn't know that the profoundly retarded kids really do wear cute little helmets. These are sometimes made of foam, sometimes made of leather like old time motorcycle helmets. I always thought this was just a popular joke. I also didn't know that a lot of them really are fond of licking at the window panes; I guess it never occurred to me that the term "window licker" had to have its origins somewhere. I also found it amusing, and strangely comforting, that many of the retarded really do like both the giving and receiving of hugs. Big hugs of the type that collapse your lungs. They are hug crazy. And, yes, many of them also love to hug themselves in the groin area. Most are sly about it and will duck into the bathroom or at least behind a tree, support column or lamp post. These are the ones high-functioning enough to know, more or less, what is and is not socially acceptable. Others, not so much. During my tenure at The District I saw a score or more of retarded kid penis. At least the girls didn't (usually) drop their pants. One day I was introduced to Sue, a young retarded lady who would be helping out in the community library near my desk. She was short and plump, a dumpling of a woman with impossibly thick glasses and long straw colored hair. She was a graduate of The District and was well enough off to hold down a part-time job. "Hello" I said, reaching out to take her thick little hand. Sue stood motionless for a minute, staring at my hand. She began to rock gently, side to side. "Say hello, Sue" said her supervisor and handler, gently patting Sue's shoulder. Sue opened her mouth as if to speak and looked me in the eye. A deep lowing sound came from within her and her eyes grew wide. Sue puked. Managing to catch the majority of it in her mouth, and with a little dribble of orange paste on her chin, she ran down the hall towards the restrooms. Her new boss ran after her. I sat back down. Two days later Sue was back to work. Her job for the day was to fold some brochures and stuff them into preaddressed envelopes. When she came in she looked at the floor, ignoring me. Sue took a seat with her back to my desk and got to work. Later in the day I visited the toilet to relieve myself. I chose the stall furthest from the bathroom's door, locked it, dropped my pants and got to work. No more than thirty seconds had passed when someone entered the men's room. Though I'm not afraid to do my duty with someone else in the room I don't particularly enjoy it either. I guess I've always been a little shy about the things that come out of my ass. I doubled my efforts to get the job done quickly. Whoever had entered paused near the door. I then heard a slow shuffling sound coming my way. It paused again, this time in front of the stall next to mine. The mystery person lingered a while and moved again, closer. Now I could make out feet. They were clad in blue flip-flops. I saw short, fat toes; too short, too fat. They looked like the hotdog medallions one gets in a can of beanie weenie. The feet turned and pointed at me, indicating the person was now staring at my stall. Their nose could only be half an inch, at most, from touching the door. "May I help you?" I asked, annoyed. The other person said nothing. "The other stall is empty, you know". Again, no response. The intruder dropped a small something on the floor and then hurried out of the restroom. It rolled under my stall door and I instinctively picked it up. It was a package of Smarties candy. I went back to my work area and had a seat. Shortly Sue came around the corner and went to her station. I couldn't help but notice the familiar blue flip flops and hotdog toes adorning Sue's feet. I approached Sue's boss. "Um, I think Sue was in the men's room a little while ago". "Oh really?" she said. "Sometimes she gets confused". "I don't know" I said. "She just sort of stood there and stared at my stall. It was a little creepy". "Well, I really wouldn't worry about it" she said. "She dropped candy on the floor". "What can I say? Sue likes candy". Sue's boss went back to her work and paid me no more attention. I went back to my desk and tried to forget about it. There was another package of Smarties waiting in my seat. The next day I was filling out some form letters and noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was Sue, staring at me. "Hi" I said. "Hi" she said back. "I like French fries". "Do you? I do too". I thought maybe the common ground would ease some of the anxiety for both of us. "Yeah" Sue said. "I like them a lot. A whole lot. Sorry I threw up. It was Doritos". "That's okay" I said. "It happens". Sue turned around and went back to her duties. I went back to mine. A few moments later I looked up and noticed Sue was staring at me again. This time her back was to me, her head turned over her shoulder. She held a black magic marker in her hand. I watched as she extended her arm and opened her hand, allowing the marker to fall to the floor. I continued to watch as she placed her feet wide apart and bent down, still looking at me. She shook her ass back and forth, up and down while groping around blindly for the marker. Sue smiled. I froze. Sue swayed too far forward and toppled face-first into a table, knocking it down. One of her hands found temporary support on a chair but she ended up taking it to the floor with her. She bellowed, animal-like, and rolled around. Sue's boss and a couple of bystanders ran to her rescue. Sue bawled like a baby as they helped her to her feet. I then realized that I was just sitting there, gawking, and not helping at all but it was too late. I received several dirty looks as Sue was helped out of the lobby to the closest first aide station. Business at The District went on as normal for two weeks. Sue was nowhere to be found. I was pretty uncomfortable with working mere feet from her. I was glad she was gone. I remained glad until I came in one morning and found more Smarties in my seat. I glanced up and found Sue at her little work table hiding behind several stacks of informational brochures. She grinned when we made eye contact. At first I considered walking over to her and very sternly telling her it was not okay to give me gifts. I would have placed the Smarties in front of her and walked away. I would have done these things if I wasn't concerned about seeming cruel to the retarded. I put the Smarties in my pocket and got to work. Things were fine until I heard a woman scream "No!" I looked up and saw one of our teachers standing near Sue. She looked horrified. I looked at Sue. I noticed beneath the table that Sue's pants were around her ankles, Sue's hand planted firmly between her thighs. "No!" said the teacher. "That is inappropriate". Sue's boss came out of her office and said "What's going on?" Sue looked at the teacher, looked at her boss, and then looked at me. Sue burst into tears and stood up, pants still down, hand still in her nethers. Sue ran, pants at her feet, knocking the stacks of brochures to the ground. Sue disappeared into the back offices. I heard distant screams. That's when I truly realized with what I was dealing. What I had on my hands was the puppy love of a retarded girl. Or, more dangerous still, puppy lust. The next morning I went to my boss's office and requested a quick meeting. I explained the situation, everything from the initial creepiness of the bathroom encounter to the ass waiving to the blatant public masturbation. I expressed how uncomfortable I was. I told him that the situation was probably bad for Sue as well. How could she be expected to properly deal with such feelings? She had the mind of a child, after all, even if she did have the plumbing of an adult. After voicing my concerns my boss removed his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "You know", he said, "I don't think this is that big of a problem. I'm sure you've had girls with crushes on you before". "Well, yeah, but-" "You see", he continued, "Sue was a student of The District. She's sort of a success story. I really don't want to fire a success story. That wouldn't be very successful, now would it?" "I guess not" I said. "But I don't want to watch her run around with her pants down, either". "We'll talk to Sue, get all of that straightened out. I doubt it happens again". My boss rotated his chair slowly, away from me. "Just get back to work and everything will be just fine". I walked back to lobby and got back to work. Things were quiet for a while. Sue came in and did her work, for the most part ignoring me. I did hear her once, when speaking to another retarded girl, that I was her boyfriend and we were going to get married some day, but I pretended I didn't notice. There came one day into the lobby a very pretty young blind woman. The District didn't just offer special education to the mentally challenged, but to those with all manner of physical challenges as well. The blind, deaf, and crippled also made up sizeable portions of the student body. This particular blind girl was one of our teachers, a teacher of blind students not surprisingly. She waved her red-tipped cane back and forth as she made her way to the reception desk. "May I help you?" I asked. "Sure can" she replied. "I need to talk to someone in the Human Resources department". "Absolutely" I said. "Let me lead you there". I got up and went around the desk. I took her hand and placed it on my arm. We began the careful walk back through the winding corridors. "Warm out there" she said, making small talk. "Yeah, but it's supposed to rain later" I said. "That should cool things off a bit". "I hope so" she said. "I hate it when-" Suddenly, there was no one beside me. "That's my boyfriend!" screamed Sue. She had grabbed the blind woman by her hair and jerked her back, throwing her to the floor. "My God, what's happening to me" the poor blind woman cried. Sue grabbed the red-tipped cane and whacked the blind woman across the forehead, cutting her deep. Blood gushed out. "He's my boyfriend and we're gonna get married!" Sue hit her again, this time across her stomach. The blind woman balled up and tried to protect her head and face. "Holy shit" I yelled. "Help!" By now the attention of the other office staff had been gained. The hallway was soon filed. Some of the bystanders just watched, others rushed to break up the fight. One administrator grabbed Sue by her shoulders and pulled her back. Sue lashed out with the cane one more time, hitting me on top of my head. "Tard cunt" I screamed. "Fucking stop it!" There was a collective gasp from the growing crowd. The fight was broken up and the blind woman was helped to her feet. Sue's boss and a secretary escorted Sue away. My boss walked up to me. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Yeah, I think so" I said, examining my scalp and skull for injuries. "Good" said my boss, "but we're going to have to let you go. We have a zero tolerance policy on verbal abuse, especially on the special needs kids. You need to leave the building. Now". Two weeks later I came back in to collect my final pay check and my personal belongings. I gathered everything up in a cardboard box and left quietly. All the while, the other employees eyed me with contempt. I exited through the lobby. Sue was there at her work station. She saw me and stood up. She softly and slowly made her way to me. She reached out and tried to hand me something. I hesitated. I looked and saw it was a roll of yellow paper. I grabbed it and walked out. At my car I loaded up my box and then looked at the yellow paper. It was a hastily scribbled, home made greeting card created from two Post-It notes taped together. Inside, in red crayon, was the word "sorry".

I remember the last time Howard said this. I went to give him a hug and he punched me in the nuts.

Maybe?

More money very rarely changes anyone positively. That said, losing money can have a profound effect on your being. It is possible to go from rich and sad to happy and poor, but not as likely to go from poor and sad to rich and happy. More money will most likely amplify the things that made you sad wen you were poor.

There are nightly games with that much and more all across Columbus.

Pushrods.

Can Greg be an admin?

LOL

http://www.perryjoshua.com/Exchange/Eli/Abbs.jpg

If your grandmother has _________, then ____ your grandmother.

"I don't eat filthy animals, and a pig is a filthy animal."

Yeah, but it's just the small hoe. For the money he wants, I need it to come with a big hoe.

That's the first thing I noticed too.

Little Nicky? GOD YES

Please post in the following format so we don't have to click links: Soft Cell - Tainted Love (Gloria Jones) (Bet you didn't know it was a cover) This space reserved while I search...

Oh! This is a band, and they play music! ...I perused the website for some time before I realized this.

The engine is theorized to get 110 MPGe, which is different from a car that gets 110 MPG. A straight apples to apples comparison gives us the engine listed (which runs on e85) producing 76 mpg when running gasoline. Still impressive, but from what I read in the article, there isn't a prototype for us yet, just theory.

These (click me first): Alec Baldwin Ben Affleck Chazz Palminteri Ed Norton

I didn't forget about you, I promise. I hope to have pics for you tomorrow.

I disagree.

When I'm bored I just read through the barter section.

Hey, I just saw this on the news: