Looking at the Glass Half Baked

Workout Boop for gramma in a wheelchair, that sounds kind of... well, funny, to be honest. - Holly

Why does all the crazy stuff always happen to you? - Amber

Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny - Bruce

Pessimists look at the glass half empty.

Optimists look at the glass half full.

I look at the glass half baked.

I've always been the kind of person to find humor in the wierdest things. I laugh a funerals. Really.

My favorite old Aunt died in May of 1988. Her sister died six weeks later. At the second funeral in 1988, I found a dime on the floor. I threw it in the casket. Now you have to know that this was an Italian funeral, complete with hired mourners. People looked at me like I was some sort of loon. My Grandfather asked me why I would do such a thing. I just said, " You know when Aunt Jo gets where she's going, she's gonna have to call Aunt Sadie"

I think it's funny that tonight on HBO, Brokeback Mountain is being followed by "The Nativity:First Look"

I find it crazy that Kate's friend was distressed because she couldn't find any "Baby's First Hanukkah" ornaments.

I love stuff that makes you say "You can't make this stuff up!"

It started out as a coping mechanism as a little kid, and just evolved into a really warped sense of humor. Funny stuff happens in our worlds every day, but usually we are too angry to see the humor in it all. Usually I keep it to myself, but sometimes I just can't.

And yesterday, I brought my warped sense of humor to the Dutchess County Department of Social Services to apply for Medicaid for my grandmother.

When got there, I had to fill out the application, wait on a Disneyland style line to hand it in, and then sit on the Group W bench with Mother Rapers, Father Stabbers, Father Rapers.....well, you get the idea. I had to sit and wait until I was called to review the application with a public service employee.

Somewhere this is where it all went south....

Behind me sat 5 twenty somethings whose conversation revealed that they were unable to work because they were depressed. I couldn't help thinking that if they got a job they would be less depressed. Now I understand depression. I have a bi-polar sister. But she feels better when she is in a manic state and she has money to spend.

I started to judge people as they walked in. I made up stories in my head about everyone that came and went in the hour and 10 minutes that I waited for my name to be called. Who was a crack whore, who was the man who heard voices, who was the welfare mom with baby #9 (that was easy...I can count)

And then it hit me.

There I sat, on the Group W bench, in a Brown Geoffrey Beene Skirt, Lime Green Geoffrey Beene sweater, London Fog Suede jacket, Nine West Shoes, Kate Spade sunglasses holding a Coach Purse, and I realized that I was the freak. I was probably making these people nervous, maybe I heard voices, carried a gun, was a crack whore...

Then I started laughing, and people moved away from me, afraid for their lives.

Lucky for them, Mr Grunch (his real name, HONEST) called me into his super secret office.

I could hear a sigh of relief as I left the room.