after the barista , there was the mystic from staten island who smelled like shed doused herself in patchouli then rolled in incense ash ; the accountant who chewed her fingers until they were raw and bleeding ; the thin-haired hairstylist with an immensely bad dye job ; the rabbit farmer from long island who smelled fecal and tangy and liked to wear thick , tarnished bangles ; the advertising copywriter who spoke in mottos and catchphrases and consumed only peanuts and coke ; the physical therapist who constantly cracked her knuckles ; the graphic designer who broke into tears every other day because her computer crashed ; the sous chef with the diet pill problem ; the broker who carried four cell phones and rang off , peace and pray the dow up ten ; and the dental assistant with inflamed gums and a lifetime supply of scope .