what the fuck
I've learned a lot of slang on this job. Tons and tons. But today we got a new guy, and I swear he's speaking a different language. As best I can remember, this is what he said:

"He be all seagull on my ass, and I thinking-drinking-stinking, ya' know? I gotta get the river some ho's, or we gunna have a problem, and that's with a capital-capital, you get me? Yup yup yup... grey grey grey."

What the fuck? I'm thinking this might be some kind of schizophrenia.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 1:58 PM

 
funny...
One client talking to another one:

"My old lady gets on my case all the damn time," said #1.
"That's because you a fuck-up," said #2.
"Hey now..." said #1.
"Oh, get over yo' shit. We all fuck-ups here. That's why we's here," responded #2.

No arguing with that logic.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 8:11 AM

 
Motivation
exerpt from an interview today:

"I don' wanna go back to prison."
"OK. No one does. But what specifically is going to keep you out?"
"You can't get no decent drugs or sex in prison."

Ahh... candor at last.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 1:03 PM

 
say good bye boys and girls
Ms. CrazyWoman is no longer with us.

The administration decided that she was "unfit for treatment." Meaning, she's way to wacked-out, even for us.

I agree.

The administration came to this conclusion after she locked herself in the woman's bathroom and yelled that she was going to kill herself by drowning herself in the toilet. The janitor busted down the door, and a couple of staffers hauled her back to her room. Then her case manager (not me, thank God) had to tell her she was going to be going to the happy hospital.

"We're going to have to send you to the hospital," the case manager said, in the same voice you'd use to tell a child that his puppy died.
"Goddammit!" she yelled. She started to get up, and it looked like she was going to go ape-shit.
"You know that we have to send people who did what you did to the hospital," the case manager says.
Ms.CrazyWoman calms down, and says, "Yeah. Dammit. Let me pack my stuff."

And that was it. She was picked up by an ambulence. I wish her well.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 3:42 PM

 
Ms. CrazyWoman strikes again.
Christ. Today I was given the task of doing a review of Ms. CrazyWoman. We do reviews every so often--this is where we see if the client is making progress or just dicking us around. So I sit with Ms. CrazyWoman in an office, and start asking her things. Everything is going well, until:

"Oh my God! I forgot!" she yells.
"Forgot what?" I say.
"Today's my mother's birthday!" she says.
"Oh," I say. I know I have to tread lightly here, since this woman is in her 50's, and her mother is most likely dead. "What do you usually do on her birthday?" I ask. That seems safe.
"I call her," she says.
OK, I'm thinking, there's no harm if she calls her mother in my office.
"Do you want to call her now?" I ask. I gesture to the phone.
"OK," she says. She stands up, flapps her arms around like some damn bird, jumps and down, and begins to yell, "Mommmmmm.... Moooooommmmmmm!!!!! Mooooommmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!"
"Wait wait wait..." I say.
"Well, you said I could call her. She's in heaven. This is my heaven dance."

It was so hard not to laugh out loud... I almost shit myself.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 9:37 AM

 
Ms. CrazyWoman gets a pet
I wish I were joking.

Ms. CrazyWoman is still here (most of our clients stay for 2-3 months) and she's no less crazy than she was before. Although, thanks to some appropriately-applied medication, she no longer babbles.

Today, Ms. CrazyWoman came to my group with a fur stole (!) wrapped around her thigh and pelvis(!!).

"What is that?" I ask, trying to sound conversational.
"What?" she responds.
Christ, that smelly, dirty thing you've got wrapped around you loins. "That," I say, gesturing to the offending object.
"That's my coochie," she says. "It keeps me warm at night."
All the other members of the group are laughing. And inside, I'm dying.

- posted by not_jane_addams @ 1:24 PM