In between shuffling papers and throwing dirty looks at crackwhore mommas this week I accidentally ate the Government Cheese. You know, that USDA surplus cheese you can sign up to receive if you're below a certain income level along with other surplus items?
Sometimes the military used to get USDA surplus. I seem to remember getting ration cards to get large packs of beef and dairy that was surplus at the base commissary on post in Germany. Happened a few times. None of the stuff we received was what I would call Grade A food, more like tough gristly beef and strange cut rate Velveeta-like neon orange cheese.
Friday at work I bit into my grilled cheese sandwich, and past the hardened bread a slightly familiar unpleasant semi-cheese like taste hit my tongue. It was The Government Cheese! I had no idea our facility got USDA Surplus.
I guess if your cupboards were bare the government cheese is better than nothing. But not by much.
Uh, about the crackwhore mommas. The lounge where the supervised visits takes place between the abused or neglected children and their parents or legal guardians takes place is smack dab in the middle of the clinical area, just outside of my office. We see some real winners out there and it's hard not to use the death glare on them.
Friday's momma was a winner. She showed up drunk and/or high wearing clothing it looked like she slept in. Her eye makeup was smeary and her hair had some crazy looking tangled bits, like it hadn't been brushed in so long that it was starting to mat up in the back.
I try not to judge... but.... it's too hard when they show up wasted looking like an extra from a "Breaking Bad" party scene at Jesse's house. Plus if the kid's record has crossed my desk and I've read snippets such as "mother sold child at 1 year for sex to a group of men for drug money" or "locked in a dog crate for several months and fed dry dog food" or the ever popular "left children alone for six days while she partied with friends. No food in house" and the list goes on, then I'm going to get all judgmental on your ass.
Seriously, if you're going to have kids you should realize that your partying days are O-V-E-R. At least on those nights when grandma cannot sit the kids.
Most of the time by the point where the child's record has crossed my desk and I see some piss poor excuse for a parent making a visit I start wishing that the courts could punish the parents by inflicting on them what they've done to their children.