I have writer’s annoyance.  

There’s so damn much to tell and every day more and more crap happens till one day the sewage system on the left side of brain explodes, then you become a vegetable – of your choice of course.

Let’s try something small that in fact is not small at all.  See what I mean?  That rhymed way too much for my liking.

Friday afternoon while waiting for my turn with the therapist I decide to give Gigi a jingle.  Gigi is a friend of mine from Kansas who is the Mother of my Goddaughter (Child was purposely given a name white people can’t pronounce or even spell so we’ll just call her  NaNa), and is also about 6 months pregnant.  Gigi’s demeanor is very much like mine: laidback and fun, yet loud and cranky.  We were commiserating and so forth, but then I realized receptionist lady in front of me was on the phone so I lowered my voice and stopped talking so much.  20 minutes still having a lovely conversation with G and here comes middle-aged man stomping towards, with him is old haggardly reception lady.  Old haggardly reception cunt gave me a coy lil look with an evil grin on her face.  I’m still completely in the dark.  

MIDDLE-AGED MAN: Hi there

ME still puzzled: Hello

MIDDLE-AGED MAN BEGINS TO SHAKE HIS FINGER: This is a place of work!  *some slobbering begins* This lady *pointing to old haggardly reception cunt* has been trying to speak to my clientele (Or order his lunch; he never was truly specific) and says you’ve been loud and profane.  *He begins heaving and puffing his chest and middle-aged belly; a few buttons pop off*  If you want to be loud and profane then you must leave this building.

ME INCREDIBLY CALM: I see, you’re a lawyer?  Perhaps you’d like to sue me?

MIDDLE-AGED MAN GASPING FOR AIR: *he mumbles something incoherent than manages a* Yes

Will you leave this building?

ME: I’m not going anywhere.  *I lean down*  You are aware that I have mental problems and that’s why I’m here.

Something must have hit home because the next thing he asked was toned down; I just agitated the situation with my reply

MIDDLE-AGED-MAN slightly calmer: You promise to no longer be profane?

ME: Sure thing pumpkin.

MIDDLE-AGED-MAN having 5 simultaneous strokes: That’s it!  You’re outta here!

In between all this huffin and puffin Gigi asked who I was talking to and I told her that if it was up to me I wouldn’t be talking to this guy at all.  In fact he just came up and started hollering at me.

GIGI: At you?  Damn I thought he was talking to somebody else.  What’s he yellin at you for?

ME: Because apparently I’ve been loud and profane.  Do you recall me being overly loud and profane?

GIGI: No, I recall me being very loud and profane but I’m at my house.  Is he gonna kick you outta the building?

ME: I think he’s about to.

Now out comes Stephanie looking concerned and Mother’s freaking out.  Anyways I figured Steph would come out and tell him to just get over it.  The only person’s word you had was the old haggardly reception cunt who could have easily turned around and ask if I would please move to another room if I was interrupting the phone call.  Instead, middle-aged man's pointing finger lead near me with Steph in tow.  He’s saying all the horrible things I did and she honest to God stood there, nodded, soaking it all in, looked at me then back as if Middle-Aged Man spoke the gospel.  That I couldn’t take so I got up and said, “I am leaving.”

All the time I’m still on the phone with Gigi and she’s like?  Where are you going?  Are you leaving?  What’s happening?  George!  Some dude just kicked Brooke out of a building!

Stephanie and Mother try and stop me, oh the ironing of it all, Mother’s freaking and says, “Just let me take you down to the car.”

ME: I really don’t want help from anyone who doesn’t believe me. All that receptionist had to do was turn around and ask me to please keep it down.  How hard is that you pussy?

Well now that Mother small she’s able to fit through the crack of the elevator and get in.  And oh she’s mortified, and oh she’s this and oh she’s that.  I finally made her talk to Gigi so she’d finally believe me.  Thank God Gigi was there and I had a bloody witness.  Well after talking to Gigi, Mother calmed down a bit; now she claims she always believed me, but the truth is she didn’t till the moment after she handed the phone back to me.

I’m getting tired and annoyed now so I’m just gonna wrap this up.  I came home and looked up this prick’s number; I figured he’d be easy to spot as he’s the type to take out an entire page in the Yellow Pages for his ad.  I had to apologize and do it gracefully because what I didn’t realize is that the Middle-Aged Prick was also owner of the building Stephanie worked in and I could’ve gotten her kicked out.  So did the apology, he said I was welcomed back but attorneys lie.  I tried to speak to Stephanie that night but it didn’t go very well.  I woulda preferred Stephanie the friend as opposed to the therapist, but perhaps the lines have been crossed way too often.  Sooooo, I haven’t spoken to her since.