Today's Odd Bird

I haven't worked a Thursday morning during story hour for a couple of months now, but managed to trade into it for yesterday. Glad I did, or I would have missed out on witnessing both the world's noisiest nonfiction stacks Easter Egg hunt and a new odd bird patron.

The odd bird was a little old man who came in, turned in his books and marched off to the shelves to find more. He seemed completely normal, save for a wildly bushy gray moustache and a particular item of clothing. This gentleman was wearing a dark green quilted hunter's coat that covered a similarly green button up shirt, a trucker-style ball cap embroidered with the logo of an area volunteer fire-fighting unit, and he was wearing a blue denim knee-length skirt from beneath which jutted the skinniest, whitest chicken-legs I've ever seen.

No, it was not a kilt. Instead, it was as if a skinny little old man and a skinny little old woman had been cleaved in two by advanced alien intelligences and then grafted back together with the wrong bottom half. There was nothing whatsoever, in manner nor deed, feminine about the top half, but then you hit that skirt and those legs and there was no denying something wasn't quite adding up.

Old Man Womanlegs eventually checked out a few books. His first name, at least according to the patron record that he used, was Beatrice. He departed before any of my fellow employees could see him and I decided not to bring him up as a subject for fear they wouldn't believe me. After about 20 minutes, though, Old Man Womanlegs returned and asked if we could put him on hold for the new John Grisham. This time Mrs. B caught a glimpse of him as he left and said she had actually seen him in Wally World recently but had assumed he was just wearing really baggy shorts.

Nope. That man was wearin' a dress.

While we were on the subject of crossdressing patrons, Mrs. B noted that Cap'n Crossdresser had also paid us a visit earlier in the week. She said his springtime sundress was quite lovely, though it didn't match his workboots.

I'll take "Captains Who Didn't Date Toni Tennille" for $.79 cents, Alex.

And now, the fashion report:

Cap'n Crossdresser dropped by. His outfit was a blue denim sundress and pink shirt.

I didn't get a look at his shoes.

That is all.

I'll take "Captains Other than Jack Harkness for $800, Alex."

And now for the fashion report:

Cap'n Crossdresser was in today. He was decked out in a blue, untucked, plaid shirt, an off-tan, mid-thigh-length skirt and high, black platform-sandals.

That is all.

Cap'n Cold

Turned a bit nippy on us yesterday. Temperatures dropped, snow was spat, wind was howled and Cap'n Crossdresser was appropriately attired in a ladies' gray sweater with fleece pullover, mauve-colored slacks, a brown woolen wrap and big, black, clunky, snow boots.

That is all.

I'll take "Cap'ns other than Crunch for $400, Alex."

In what is perhaps his final appearance of 2006, Cap'n Crossdresser paid us a visit today. He was decked out in a quilted red coat, a low cut tangerine-colored blouse, baggy green slacks, a peach colored knitted scarf and dark boots.

That is all.

BUSTED!

When I went to work yesterday, having my secret identity as a "liberry" blogger unearthed was the furthest thing from my mind. It was about to happen all the same, though.

Nearly nine months ago when I first started writing this blog I knew in all likelihood I was eventually gonna get caught. Sure, I tried to be careful about who and what I wrote about. Well, a little careful. I did rename most of the people and places that showed up—sometimes thinly—to limit the clues within the blog itself that could lead back to me. However, I've been plenty sloppy in a lot of ways too. Sometimes this has been intentional. Sometimes not.

It's one thing, however, to not care if readers in other states and indeed other countries know my secret identity. It's a whole other ball of dung for someone here in the Tri-Metro area to find out and that's where the sloppy comes in.

I didn't realize just how sloppy I was in other less obvious ways until a few months ago when I started checking my stats and saw the kind of search engine searches that sometimes lead people in my direction. (And by the way, what the hell kind of person does a subject search for "Chris Farley's Dead Ass," anyway?) The stats showed me that even having such words as "West," "Library"and "Virginia" in proximity to one another on the same page could lead people right to my door if they were merely doing a search for something using those words. There are plenty of other words that, while innocuous enough on the surface, could lead someone local to the blog. So I went back and changed some references, eliminated others and tried to tart the place up a bit to further decrease the chances of someone accidentally stumbling in.

Still, there's only so much you can do to disguise yourself if you're writing a blog about working at a "liberry" in WV to keep those terms from coming up. Eventually, the state and the word library are gonna get together and someone is going to find them in a search. With that in mind, I figured it was likely that someone from library HQ would eventually find me. They may already have. If so, they don't seem to be inclined to rat me out to my boss, Mrs. A.

Frankly, though, I wasn't too concerned about being ratted out that way. I think most of my co-workers would really dig the blog and would quickly become some of my more avid readers were they to learn of it. I've even considered letting them in on it if only to get more accurate reporting out of them on the crazy stuff that happens while I'm not at work. I decided, though, that doing so would cause a chilling effect on what I could say. Granted, I've always made it a point not to talk too much trash about my co-workers, (except, of course, for those who abandon their jobs and make me have to pack up all their interlibrary loans on a day I would otherwise not have been at work—thank you oh so very much, Miss E). Still, I'd much prefer the freedom in which I have the choice to behave myself.

I figure they'll eventually learn of it, either by admission or by someone ratting me out. My hope is that if they're angry at me, it will be because I didn't tell them about it sooner.

No, my imagined worse case scenario was much different. In it, I would go in to work one day, walk back to the computer hall and find somebody there reading my blog. They would turn and look up at me with realization in their eyes and then either wink knowingly or give me the finger. Worse yet, what if they came up to the circ desk and yelled at me about it? Even worse still.... what if it was PARKA? That chest hair entry alone would net me at least a bloody nose. Hell, the rest of my rogues gallery practically rivals Spider-Man's already! Sure, I might do okay one on one with most of them, but what if they ganged up? Carol Satan would tear me to shreds with her talons! Wal-Mart Jesus would clock me with his cudgel! Ron the Ripper would try to rip me, or at the very least fart on me! And Cap'n Crossdresser would hit me with his purse!

No sir... I don't like it.

Like I said, though, when I went to work yesterday, I wasn't thinking about any of the above scenarios. And when I left to go on break, I still wasn't thinking of them. So when it happened, it took me by surprise.

As per my usual Wednesday afternoon routine, I ambled down to the local "mall" comic book kiosk, to see what the new shipment had brought. Garin the comic book guy was there at the desk as usual. For some reason, he seemed especially happy to see me. He just kept saying my name over and over, taking an unwholesome amount of glee at some unrevealed nugget of information. I was oblivious.

"You will NEVER guess what I saw... on... the... internet," he said with a devilish grin. Still, I was clueless. I was somehow picturing that he'd found stills from the new Sin City film adaptation, or the full script for Spider-Man 3, or clips from Catwoman: The Version that Didn't Blow Goats.

Garin continued, slowly letting out his verbal fishing line in preparation for yanking it back suddenly. "I found a website that mentions me and my shop."

That's when it hit me and I instantly knew I was busted.

I always expected such a busting to come with the requisite chills and stomach vertigo that usually accompany major revelations. I didn't get so much of that, though. I must have at least looked properly shocked for a few moments, because Garin just continued grinning triumphantly. Pretty quickly, though, I settled into my new role as the grinning little low-carb dieting kid caught with his hand in the Nutter Butters but who knows he's far too cute and adorable to be punished.

What had happened, as Garin explained it, is that one of his customers decided to look his shop up by name and see if it had a website. They typed the name into a search engine and came up with some ebay entries as well as a little blog entry called The Fix Is In. They took a gander at it and alerted Garin that someone was writing about him on the internet.

"So I see this Tales from the `Liberry' site that mentions my shop," Garin said. "I knew immediately who had to have written it! Just the language you used was SO EXACTLY YOU."

Not only did Garin read his own initial appearance in the blog, but read most of the other entries as well and liked them. (Hey, I told ya I was cute and adorable!) Even my slightly less-than-favorable early review of his store, ("I can't say this one ranks with the best of them. But then again, it's only a kiosk store—what can you really do with a kiosk store?"), written a mere one month after he opened for business was met with smiles and appreciation for my honesty. (And just for the record, I also predicted that his store had a lot of potential and in the ten months since then he's proven just what you CAN do with a kiosk store. It's become quite the quality comic retail outlet. *WAVES TO GARIN* In fact, Garin's search engine search also turned up an award he'd won from Marvel Comics themselves, but which no one at Marvel thought to tell him about.)

Garin's one complaint to me in the whole matter: "So why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

I explained that I was trying to keep things on the Q.T. as far as local publicity went. As much as I didn't care that he knew about it, I'd much prefer most other locals NOT knowing about it. Particularly the mentally-unbalanced locals who occasionally turn up as subject matter. 

Then, as if somebody rang the crazy bell, who should show up at the kiosk right on cue... Doc Oc-Fetishist Woman!

This time she wasn't looking for the New Doc Ock or the Old Doc Ock or any Doc Ock. Instead, she had come to see if Garin had any other toys for her husband. Sure enough, a great huge Fantastic 4 Four Pack set of figures has been released, including figures of all four members of the FF plus Franklin Richards, Doctor Doom and even Robbie the EFFing Robot. This, apparently, is what DOF Woman's husband had ordered and she was overjoyed at its arrival.

Naturally, there had to be a wrinkle, though. In addition to the Fantastic Four Pack, a brand new Thing figure had also been released, which was a different sculpt than the version of Thing already in the pack. Garin just wanted to call her attention to it in case her husband was interested, as he knew the guy liked the FF characters. This completely threw Doc Ock Fetishist Woman into a tizzy, though. Garin had to explain to her several times that her husband hadn't ordered the extra Thing so she didn't need to buy it, but if her husband was interested it was there. I had to walk out of sight of her to keep from cracking up laughing as DOF Woman struggled with these concepts for a couple of minutes, dancing perilously close to but never actually crossing the line into understanding. Finally Garin took the extra Thing away from her and told her he would hold on to it and save it for her husband should he want it.

"You'll save it for him then?"

"Yes."

"You'll save it for him then?"

"YES."

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I cannot make up shit that crazy!

So guess what, Garin... If I do get drummed out of the library for this blog, I'm moving into your comic shop and starting a new blog there. Seems like it's just another station for the local Crazy Train.

Cap'n Crossdresser and the World of Tomorrow!

I'd barely been on shift for half an hour when Cap'n Crossdresser walked through the "liberry's" door.
 
Today the good Cap'n was wearing a spaghetti-strap floral print sun dress with brown pumps.  I don't think he had a purse, but his appearance stirred things up quite a bit, as you might expect.
 
All of my previous encounters with the Cap'n have been when I was working by myself.  It's SO much easier not to crack up laughing at a Bozo-haired man in a dress when you don't have three fellow employees around you who are also trying not to crack up.  It was all we could do to wipe the smiles off our faces whenever the Cap'n walked through.
 
As usual, he went back and used a computer for a while before coming up front to browse the shelves. 
 
When I walked back to the computer hall to sign someone on the Cap'n's former computer, another female computer patron looked up at me and loudly said, "Okay, I just have to say ask...  Was that man wearing a dress?"  
 
I immediately held up a finger to my lips to shush her and pointed back toward the front room, silently indicating that the man in the dress was still well within earshot.  The woman looked a little sheepish at this, then leaned closer to me and said in a low voice, "So... what?  He's a transvestite?"
 
I shrugged and nodded. 
 
The woman instantly recoiled in apparent disgust at the idea.
 
Now, I wouldn't go so far as to call the Cap'n disgusting.  He's certainly not pretty and is about the least womanly man in a dress you'd ever care to see.  He also has an amount of body hair that is encroaching on the extreme levels that Parka recently exhibited, but at no time did I want to claw my own eyes out at the sight of him.  In fact, I welcome the Cap'n!  He's already one of our best patrons, is always polite, never personally causes trouble and he always livens things up just by being himself.  He's out there and fancy free, living his life to the fullest--albeit in a dress.  Sure, he looks like somebody's uncle but what's a big burly half bald lumberjack-looking man gonna do if he has such a deep-seated urge to wear a spaghetti strap sun dress out in public.  At least it matched his shoes!
 
I gave the woman a half-dirty look and went back to the circulation desk.  Presently, Cap'n Crossdresser applied for a new library card, which I proudly made without even cracking a smile while my fellow employees hid themselves.  He never gave me any indication that he'd heard the lady at the computer, but I'm sure he probably did.  He has to be used to everyone commenting and cracking up around him. 
 
The Cap'n took his new card and walked out the door in a most manly fashion, clomping his feet along, his sundress swaying as he went. 

"Sadderdee"

I have something of a love/hate relationship with working Saturdays at the "liberry."

On the one hand, it's usually fairly quiet and peaceful, as opposed to most week days. On the other hand, I gotta get up early on a Saturday and come in. Plus I have to deal with mailing out all the interlibrary loan returns that have accumulated throughout the week. It's not the least complicated process and it's one I don't usually have to fuss with. Miss E, our weekend "Liberry" Ass. is usually responsible for doing it, but I'm subbing for her today since she was nice enough to sub for me during the play. Trouble is, I work Saturdays so infrequently that I have just enough time to forget how to do the ILLs before I have to come back to do them again.

But we have had a parade of colorful patrons today.

Mr. B-Natural popped in for his daily visit to his favorite computer crossword puzzle website. For a guy who's the grumpiest man in all the world, he's usually far less grumpy on Saturdays and has even been known to help us carry books in from the book return box of his own volition. Not today, when I'm working, mind you, but Miss E says he helps her all the time.

Matilde the Cranky Wiccan followed shortly thereafter. I've not spoken of Matilde before, cause there's really not much to speak of. She drives around in a beat up old car with lots of pro-pagan bumper stickers, like "Goddess Bless America" and "Wiccans Rule!" She's not a Liberry Rogue, per se, as she rarely does anything rogueish outside of occasionally being cranky. See, Matilde's one of the full-fledged members of the Liberry Internet Crowd, a loose and varied group of people who only come to the library for our internet access and may or may not even have cards with us. As such they tend to be very cranky about anything that interferes with them getting their Internet Fix. They get cranky when the computers are all full and they can't use one immediately. They get cranky if they have to wait ANY length of time for one to open up. They get cranky when the internet isn't working properly, as has been the case for over a week now. They get cranky when their time runs out and you tell them they have to get off the computers and let someone else have a turn. Mr. B-Natural is, of course, their king. We've not really had a queen before, but Matilde the Cranky Wiccan might fit the bill, not only for her computer useage but for her relationship to Mr. B-Natural as well. See, they actually LIKE one another. In fact, just about the only time either of them have been observed to display traits of happiness and good will is when they're in one another's presence. Scarier than that is the way they greet one another. Matilde walks in, see's Mr. B-Natural and issues forth a gutteral, sultryish, "Hey, baby" or "Hey, Sexy" to which Mr. B-Natural smiles and appears friendly. This is disturbing on so many levels.

Mr. Smiley, the second grumpiest man in all the world, also popped in for a visit. He wasn't particularly grumpy today either, but didn't seem too happy that none of his many interlibrary loans had come in. I was thankful that he brought one of his old ones back, just in time for me to pack it up and send off. I was laying money that I'd get all the ILL stuff packed up and then nine people would walk in with more, but it didn't go down like that.

And, finally, we had a visit from Cap'n Crossdresser, who was decked out in a knee-length little black skirt with matching pumps and a darkish coat that I'm sorry to report I didn't get a good look at. Not sure why he's on the Rogue list, come to think of it. He's actually one of the nicer patrons we have and has never given us any trouble. He just likes to dress up in women's clothing. No crime there.

UGH!!! Part III

Odd bird of the day prize goes to Cap'n Crossdresser, who favored us with a visit this afternoon. The good cap'n was wearing a stylish black quilted ladies long winter coat with a green fleece long sleeve blouse, dark skirt and knee-high leather boots. Oh, and he had a purse that matched the coat.

I'm going home now to prepare for the onslought of sleet and freezing rain we are about to receive.

Tomorrow should be interesting, as I'm going to spend much of it at the W V "Liberry" Assoc's annual conference, held this year at the world famous BIG HOITY TOITY HOTEL AND RESORT . If I can dig out of the ice, that is. I'm supposed to MC a group of W V author readings, including Belinda Anderson, Sharon Gardner, Edwina Pendarvis and Stephen Coonts. Should be fun. I might even cheat a little for some HOITY TOITY HOTEL grub.

Colorful Addendum

I thought I was going to be able to get away with only one entry today. Then Cap'n Crossdresser, our area's resident transvestite, walked through the door.

Today, the good Cap'n was wearing a very fetching low-cut gray sweater, that accented his thatch of red chest hair. Below that he wore a brown satin skirt, with matching hose. I didn't see his shoes.

The Cap'n is probably the least feminine crossdresser I've ever seen. He's a rather burly, lumberjack of a man with a Larry Fine-style half-doughnut halo of wild, unkempt hair surrounding his bald head.  I've often seen him sporting a beard as well, though today he only had the moustache. I get the impression that it's not his goal to actually become a woman--he just wants to dress like one.

Cap'n Crossdresser, our honorary Twin Peaks patron of the day.