Wednesday (NSFW. Or children)

Last Monday I was working out in West Philly at a women's homeless shelter.  I was there to do some routine administrative stuff that comes part and parcel with my job, but there is a new director there who I had to meet.  I'm supposed to be on familiar terms with everyone on the grant and it was a meeting that was about two months over due.

Things have been a bit hectic at work.
And in life.
Things get backed up from time to time.

The new director was (well, is) a man.  Which I find weird.  There are a handful of men in this field, but they usually work with fathers and other male caregivers.  They don't usually run women's shelters.
So maybe I went in to this meeting a bit biased.  Or weirded out.  On edge. Or whatever.  Who knows.

The guy was super friendly looking with just the right amount of toughness so that he was approachable in a sort of  "I don't take shit so don't bother with trying to give me any" attitude.  He looked just like Patrice O'Neal.

Holy crap.  I just google imaged Patrice O'Neal and found out he just had a stroke.  Like just just had a stroke and the news just broke about an hour ago.

I promise I will prevent you from having a stroke by not google imaging you this afternoon.

Anyway.

So this guy is running a women's shelter so we sit down in a conference room together with a woman who works there.  She and I are close and had some major catching up to do (your tax dollars at work: me and this lady BSing for 20 minutes about things that have NOTHING to do with the job) and while we were talking about stuff that he had no idea about, he opened up his notebook and drew two of these:

 
 My eyes got super big and I tried not to stare and I really wanted to run.
Then he wrote the word "hot" with flames coming up from it above one and "not" with icicles dripping (oh, god.  the dripping) above the other.
OMG
OMG
He's drawing dicks.
Holy crap.
Fight or flight?
What the eff?
So I do this thing with my eyes where I look at the girl and I look at the notebook.  Then I mouth "penis" over and over and over again but she's going on and on and on about something to do with her kids' school and uniforms or whatever and doesn't pick up on it.
So then he does one of these:

(mouthing): "Dicks.  Dicks.  He's drawing dicks. J_____.  He's drawing dicks."
She says, "What's that?  Sticks?  I don't think they can carry sticks. Do you need a glass of water?"
I'm all, "What?"
I had stopped listening to her story.
Then this:

 

Then, inexplicably, this:

My brain's all like: WTF? Hot or not ribbed condoms?  Hot or not vertical veins?  Hot or not tribal tattoos?  Hot or not maybe I just don't know a lot about penises and the way they look?

Then he said "Excuse me ladies, what do you think of this?"
And he turns them around and I stammer and J_____ says, "oh, are those the hot or not thermometers for the healthy relationship exercise about what is appropriate to wear in public or are they for what is okay and not okay for men to say to women one?  That's cute.  Are those little hearts at the bottom for the mercury bulb?  That's great. Romantic!"

Oh, right.  Thermometers.  Hearts.  Mercury.  Temperature gauges.
Hot.
Not.
Not hot.

Who's the real sicko in the room?
The one thinking about penises during a business meeting.

Again.