[As August 2010 marks the close of our tenth year of weekly publication, we shall spend this month enjoying "the blast from the past" with selections from Poor Mojo's Almanac(k): Year Three (issues 101-150). Please, enjoy!—Your Giant Squid, Editor-in-Chief, PMjA]
[originally published in issue #146]
Your librarian hates you if:
You never have your library card, and then you cough on me while explaining that you don't even have an ID on you.
You refuse to learn to use the computers for yourself, and get impatient when I dont know your yahoo password.
You stare blankly as I check in your 40 books so you can pay a five-cent fine.
You contest a five-cent fine.
You call me "dear" and "doll" and "sweetie".
You physically turn my computer monitor around to watch my screen if I'm helping you. appalling.
You want to know why we dont order the paperbacks you want, after the ten letters you've written to our superiors.
You refuse to ever, ever, ever buy a book.
You angrily explain you need this book more than other people do, as you are in a prestigious "book club".
You are over sixty and compliment my eyes/smile, and wink.
You smell worse than the garbage that keeps you warm.
You put out your cigarette on your way in.
You light your cigarette in the lobby on the way out.
On good days you smell like actual vodka rather than scope.
You rearrange the items on my desk.
You pick up the book you saw me put down to assist you, and start to read.
You are banging on the door to get in, so you can save 50 cents on the newspaper.
You cut up the newspaper.
You steal the newspaper. we only have one newspaper you know.
You want a particular book a friend recommended, but you dont know the title or author or year of publication, and your friend has recently passed on.
You say anything other than "no shit, right?" when you catch me yawning.
. . . Such as "are we BORING YOU?"- the answer is, yes.
You let your child scream for more than 30 seconds without escorting him out.
Your stroller needs WD40.
When your child starts hysterically bawling, and we dont have to look at a clock to know it is precisely 11am. take him to the fucking park.
Your computer starts making a beeping noise because of your disk, so you just leave it for us to figure out. You play dumb: we are on to you. Your disk has your name on it, jackass.
You state loudly that librarians shouldnt have peircings. They shouldnt be fucking on their desks after-hours either, I suppose?
You believe that being ancient means you can be an asshole.
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