Battle Without Honor Or Humanity

Back when I was in high school, I had this nasty summer gig at this microfiche business. It had about six women who, for eight hours a day, fed documents into a high speed cameras, sheet by sheet, over and over and over again. My job? I had to take the staples out of the documents before they were fed into the cameras. Boy was that mind-numbingly dull. So mind-numbingly dull it made people insane! Well, maybe not. But one of the women who worked there, a buck-toothed bee-hive hairdo weirdo, was friggin' insane. She would talk to herself while working, and once in a while, laugh in a horse-like bray at what she said. We called her Mad Mary.

OK, that rather non-cryptic entry a couple of days ago using the metaphor about the chick in the Mercedes and chick in the Ford? Ummmm, someone told me that the chick in the Ford was smiling and laughing to herself for no apparent reason today. Memories of Mad Mary came flooding through my head. Great, why can't a nice stable chick dig my scene? And what complicates things--she sits in the cubicle across from Non-Married Blonde Lawyer's office.