I suppose that's just a small bit better than if Christmas is when the unidentified family psycho gets identified. (Speaking of psychos, I'm reading Carrie Fisher's new book.)

So how did it go? Give us a play by play. Should have been interesting.

We have a new ward clerk.

She's clueless.

I mean, like, really.

The guys like looking at her. Blonde, big hoots, apparently doesn't know her actual clothing sizes and keeps buying things that are too small.

The guys do not like talking to her because she is as dumb as the post that she should be dancing next to.

Oh, and she's rumored to be Amish. Yeah, that kind of Amish ... bonnets and buggies, Kelly McGillis in Witness Amish. I don't know how, she must have gone on Rumspringe and never went back.

She actually said something funny last night.

We got this dude, he's an old pillhead. Games ERs for pain meds, carefully simulates a number of chronic and acute pain conditions.

She came out looking for some of his property and asked, "you know that new admission guy, the one who looks like Gollum?"

Well, as it happens, he does.

If that wasn't funny enough, one of my cow orkers says "Smeagol wants it, needs it, Oxycontin, yessss."

ah, wolf. How I envy you.

some little bits I recall from being on both sides of the desk:

a woman talking with her therapist about whether the doc was correct in his diagnosis (of her bipolarity) "Well, with that doctor, I take everything he says with a grand of salt,"

A 20-something schizo, on being told the refridgerator was unlocked: "that's probably not a good idea. I'm a compulsive thing-taker."

Replying to the question of how this man found himself at the State hosp.: "I really don't know. I just went to the police station to get a restraining order against God."

:lol2:

Wolf. Click the link, sixth frame down. Click the video. I think I found one of your patients. :lol2:

http://creativedisease.com/index.htm

If a Mormon marries a woman with multiple personality disorder, is that considered polygamy?

Yes, of course this is based on a real life situation. Sort of, I mean. She wasn't married.

I vote 'yes' on the polygamy. It's not as much fun as you'd think, though.

I watch Big Love. I know.

For the first time in the history of policing ...

An officer will return to the station and tell his Sergeant, "Well, Sarge, you won't believe this, but the suspect, he was a real 96er, Sarge, and I put him in cuffs and he started banging his head onto the hood of my brand new cruiser, all on his own, and that's why the hood has five big dents in it."

And the officer has car-camera video to prove it.

Suggest to 'em that they stash the video and tell the insurance company it was hail damage! :rolleyes:

Yesterday I got to see our criminal justice system at work.

Or not work.

There is a lot of waiting around involved.

On the upside, I got to hear a police sergeant tell funny true stories.

He's a real cop. He says you're not a real cop until you've been suspended, sued, and divorced. He has also been hung in effigy. I had seen the effigy, but didn't know it was he.

Anyway, I had to tesify at a trial for the drugs I found. This one was for the recipient.

They forgot to bring him from the jail. So that meant waiting another two hours until the sheriffs brought him down from the county.

Pre-trial testimony prep is not like you see on Law and Order. I did not meet with the ADA in a nice office. I stood in a hallway and she gave me a printed sheet of the questions she was going to ask me, with answers filled in, pretty much based on my initial witness statement to the police.

I ended up not having to actually testify. Probably just as well. We were heading in towards lunchtime and the judge wanted to wrap things up. Prisoner pled to some lesser offence to avoid a two year minimum manditory sentence for contraband.

I go to a preliminary on the one who smuggled in the drugs next week. At least that one's at the District Justice's office that's down the street from my house. I get to sleep in. For this one I had to be up before 7am, and at the courthouse by 8:30, was stuck there until past noon, never got any sleep ... I can't nap. So by the end of my shift my butt was dragging something awful. And it was busy.

But all the time at the court was OT, so that's something.

So, I'm dealing with this kid, 19 years old. He's not merely gay, he's a complete screaming queen. Lisp, limp wrist, lilty voice, glided across the floor when he walked, wearing more Silly Bandz than the average tween girl. So flamey I feared the couch would catch fire.

So, he sashays into the interview room with me. I start by asking, "Your paperwork says your name is 'Charles.' Are you are a 'Charles,' 'Chuck,' 'Chas,' or something else?"

"Nibbles."

"What?"

"They call me Nibbles."

"Young man, I cannot call you Nibbles. Let's just stick with Charles."

This is the funniest story I've heard in quite some time! :lol:

Something tells me they don't call him Nibbles because he's always snacking on something... (unless that's what you wanna call it)

:eyebrow: