Dealing With Infinite Stupidity

I once had a client with a certified crazy person. As we encounter each other, I've gathered these nonsense infos like the following:

1. That she wants "one of those things like in the Fast and the Furious" that "makes your car faster." This "thing" turned out to be a manual transmission.

2. That her husband was beating her (not that I blame him). This man got so drunk at an office party that he fell in the swimming pool. She proceeded to smack him and scream "I hate you!" until they left. She had several amusing stories about them getting into slap fights in public and how people "stared."

3. That she was divorcing said husband due to beating. This turned out to actually be due to the fact that she was fucking someone in her art department and needed out of her marriage.

4. That the guy she was fucking in the art department was "stalking" her for some unknown reason (turns out she was now denying fucking him and had him fired for "harassing" her, his girlfriend). She reported that he had a fascination with her she had never cultivated nor encouraged.

5. That she was remarrying her husband, who doesn't know she fucked/lived with this other guy for almost a year.

6. That she was still fucking the artist, who didn't know she was the reason he was fired.

7. That she doesn't give blowjobs because her mother told her it was nasty and wrong to do.

She's also convinced she's hot and thinks every male in her office (including the gay men) are in love with her.

A bit ago a coworker friend of mine discovered his wife was pregnant. This was exciting news, everyone was very happy for him. Now, apparently the psycho didn't like someone else getting all the attention. She grilled him on his wife's symptoms and she surprisingly had ALL of them.

Soon after she started reporting that she was pregnant. According to her, she should be about six weeks along.
Couple days later she started wearing materinity clothes. Now, I know I'm not a doctor, but maternity clothing, especially not those apparently made for someone carrying quints, does not need to be worn less than two months into a pregnancy.
She also is having a rough time keeping the facts straight. When asked about how far along she was, she answered, "oh, we don't know yet." Yet she has been to the doctor twice. She has also never had an ultrasound and wasn't sure what prenatal vitamins were.

Now, either this is a fake and we're in for listening to two more months of her whining about her pregnancy before enduring a faked miscarriage, or she's not going to the doctor and leaving her pregnancy up to God.
Either way, we've decided to have some fun with this. We're making up words and procedures pertaining to pregnancy and hounding her about whether or not they've been done. She didn't seem to understand the purpose of an ultrasound, so we can go pretty far out there without her being suspicious.
So far we've decided to ask if she's had her endoscope yet and when she is getting the baby's phallanges rotated.
I managed to catch her purchasing a soda and told her how bad it was for the baby. She, of course, looked shocked and a little scared, then calmly told me she "hadn't heard that" before.

But the best happened in some night.
Two of my artist friends at work were busy on a layout project when Ms. Pregnant came waltzing over. The female artist said to her, "that's a cute top."
"Oh, thanks. It's a maternity top."
"Oh," the artist replied, not looking up.
"I'm wearing maternity clothes," she emphasized.
"Oh, okay," the artist said, still not interested.
"I'm PREGNANT."
At this point the artist looks up and asks, "wow, how far along are you?"
She perks up, "we think about six weeks."
"And you're wearing maternity clothes already?"
She falters a bit, "um, I think so."
"Wow, that's strange. Most women don't even start to show until 4 or 5 months out."
"Um... well, I AM."
And with that she stomped off.
The two artists looked at each other and were unable to contain their laughter.
"What a psycho!" says the girl.
"Does she think we believe her?" says the guy.
"The only place she's showing is her gigantic ass!"
And they giggle and carry on for about 10 minutes.
A slam and shuffling papers silence them. The female artist peeks her head over the wall and sees Ms. Fakeababy angrily going through files.
She hasn't said anything to them or about the incident, but she's considerably quieter afterwards.

I find her much more tolerable this way.

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UPDATE

This is the first time I use w.bloggar to post.... ternyata enak juga ya ^_^