I've only figured out like, 10 algebra problems tonight and yet I am so very brain-dead. That's why I've been on such a math kick, by the way. Not only does it appeal to my obsessive side, but it also kills any deep thoughts about such shit as feelings and boys. So hooray math.

I could totally write this entry about boys, you know, but there's been too much of that kind of talk in here lately. Tonight, I will talk about library stuff.

There were about 45 minutes left before we closed for the night and I was standing up front, staring at shit. I was just noticing the lack of symmetry in the couch upholstery pattern when I hear Jaklyn calling me from the workroom. I went "Aaah" and shuffled back there to see what was up.

First thing she says is, "I feel really bad showing this to you, but I just can't resist."

I see she is holding a book on slaughtering and butchering animals and close my eyes really tight like little kids do during the flying monkey scene in The Wizard of Oz. I ask if it has anything to do with ducks and/or chickens and she says no. I open my eyes and she starts showing me all these crazy pictures. I'm like, "whoa". She's like, "yeah". We discuss the grossness of the pictures and she considers vegetarianism. I giggle at the word "bung".

Before I continue, this book had been placed on hold by someone and was sitting in the hold stack so one of us could call the person and let them know that their book was in.

Suddenly, Jaklyn asks, "How can somebody do this as a job? Does it get easier or something?"

I tell her the story of my great-grandmother, fresh from Poland, living off the land until they could get a good grip on the bounty of the US of A. Every Sunday, my great-grandma would kill a rabbit for dinner with her bare hands. Then one day, she just couldn't do it. She stopped eating meat altogether soon after. Jaklyn says she can understand that happening and we continue to gawk at the book, particularly the almost cheerful way it was written.

After a couple minutes of this, Jaklyn says, "Not to be morbid or anything...". I cut her off and mention the Stinky Zombie Man and my subsequent theories. No need to warn me about morbidity.

Touche, she says. And then, "What if this guy doesn't want the book for cutting up...cows."

"You mean this guy could be a serial killer or something?"

"Yeah."

And then I notice the name on the hold slip.

"Dude. His last name is Weiner."

We had been giggling for a good three minutes before it dawned on us both.

"Oh, shit," she said.

"Uh huh," I replied.

"I hope to god I'm not here when he picks this up."

"I hope to god I am here when he picks this up."

And then we started talking about the Olsen twins.

So that's my library story for the night. There was one more that happened months ago, but I keep forgetting to write about it. It's a good one, too.

Except I should sleep. Apparently, I look like shit. Four patrons told me I looked "tired" and May used the word "peaked" to describe me. That can't be good.

OK, bedtime.

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