Work is more than stressful enough without crazy people, dontcha think? Well, if yours isn't, mine is! In fact, it's so stressful, that I've resorted to smoking cigarettes damn near every hour on the hour just to get a break.

The only down side to these much-needed smoke breaks is this crazy middle-aged woman who always manages to interrupt them with rhetoric I didn't ask for and never needed to hear. Today, however, this woman pulled a story out of her hat that literally floored me and my coworkers...and the story offers a perfect testament as to how "touched" this woman really is. Here's how it breaks down:

"Hey girls, how ya doin'?" she asks of my coworkers and I.

"We're doing great...how have you been?" we reply almost in unison. None of us wanted to be bothered.

"I've been retro dating lately, so everything's been great!"

"What's retro dating?" my friend asks just before the light bulb illuminates in her head. "Oh! You mean you've been dating somebody from your past."

"Yeah, I have," says the crazy lady. "He's a nice guy who lives out in Arizona. He never got married, and we recently caught up with each other, and now he's coming to town next weekend to visit me."

"Oh wow," I say. "That's great!" I'm really not the least bit interested, but what was I supposed to say?

"Yeah, I'm really excited. So, I'm doing everything I can to look my best. My mom told me about some cream that I could put on my face to get rid of my wrinkles. She told me to use a drop the size of a pea, but instead, I used one about the size of a quarter. Last night, it felt like my whole face was on fire!"

"Oh no," I said, trying to hide the giggles that were coming forth with full force. What I really wanted to say was, Who gives a hot damn! But, I didn't.

"Yeah, it was terrible. Look at my face!"

Her face was the color of a pale red apple, and the skin was peeling away from her nose and around her eyes. She looked like a clown, but I didn't want to tell her.

"Wow, that's too bad," I say. "Next time, you had better listen to your mom."

"Yeah, you're right! But that's not even the worst part. Now I have the Ronald McDonald Syndrome!"

Oh no, I'm thinking. What the hell is she talking about now? I took the bait anyway. "What's Ronald McDonald Syndrome?" I ask, regretting the moment I did.