If you don't really want to know, don't ask. Tonight I said, "How are you doing?" and the guy said "Can we talk after dinner?" Sure, okay.

So dinner was all about the teenagers. A fist-fight was narrowly averted amongst the teens and a passerby on the street out front in which the man - in the midst of a swarm of rowdy teenagers and no doubt a little intimidated - said something about a knife. One of the kids called 911 on her cell-phone and 4 police cruisers responded. Much ado about nothing but really, not helpful. Then the Teenage Wonder Mouth - a fake blonde with way too much mouth who may, or may not, have left her bra on one of the dinner tables recently - wanted to punch out her boyfriend in the dining room. Did I mention that The Teenage Wonder Mouth is currently banned for trying to punch out the girl who slept with her boyfriend, the very same boy who at one point last night had her by the throat on the sidewalk? Somehow, in the midst of this, I managed to get the Teenage Wonder Mouth a dinner in a take out package and, finally, mercifully, off she and Prince Charming went.

Immediately thereafter The Sweet Vague Woman, who is Teenage Wonder Mouth's friend, was telling me that Teenage Wonder Mouth was a nice girl, she just wasn't very smart, that's all. "She didn't even know these exist" and then the woman pulls a female condom out of her purse and shows it to me. And no, I'm not providing a link so you can see what I'm talking about - I'm still traumatized myself, thank you very much. Think of the children, for crying out loud.

Then another woman is asking for a winter coat, someone needed the number to Narcotics Anonymous, a lady with mobility issues who is riding a scooter had to have a path cleared for her so she could leave, the Seventh Day Adventist Lady gives me a book to read with all the good bits underlined in red and there's shouting in the hall but it's the okay kind of shouting so we can let it go, someone is banging on the piano with their fists and I need to check on the kitchen and servers.

Oh yeah, that guy. So I find the guy who wanted to wait to tell me how he's doing. I get a cup of tea and we sit down. His girlfriend bailed out on him and is now shacked up with a buddy of his. She took her son with him and, yes, it's her son, but after almost a year together he had fallen in love with both her and the little guy. She emptied the bank accounts and left him with a house and bills he can't possibly pay. He's heartbroken now but he'll be heartbroken and homeless at the end of this month. Adding insult to injury is that fact that she took the furniture and he's sleeping - and sitting - on the floor. While we were talking the Flute Girl couldn't wait to show me the sheet music she's practicing and barged into our conversation and another guy was just hanging around at the edge of our table. I shoo-ed them away as gently as I could. The Broken Hearted Guy and I both know there's nothing for it - he's going to be in one of our shelter beds in a few days, and there's not much I can do except get him some groceries and pray with him. I put my hand on his arm and pray some idiocy about God giving him strength and clarity, and, honestly, I have no clue what to even pray for.

Just as I was getting ready to leave I saw another regular guest and, like a moron I said, "How are you doing". Well, that sparked another long conversation. He came in for dinner tonight and went to sit down at a table and some guy started cracking off to him about sitting there. It's like the lunch room at Queenston Heights Public School. The guy tells me that it was a good thing he was a Christian otherwise he would have stuck a knife in his heart. "Since I met Jesus, though," he said through clenched teeth, waving his fists, "I don't have to worry about killing *&$#@!#* like that anymore."

Oh, by the way... did I tell you the part about the volunteer dishwasher who showed up drunk as a sot?