Saturday, July 18, 2009

No Phone Blues...

It's kind of weird to not be in touch with anyone. I've been without a phone for about a week and a half. I lost it some place, but have no idea where it could be. I imagine lots of folks have been trying to contact me (because I'm soooo popular) and are ticked off. I know that I should just break down and get a new one, but I've played this game before. I will call in to the phone place, get the machine, wait for 30 minutes to talk to someone who isn't in India, explain what happened to my phone (by now I've concocted an epic struggle between good and evil, where good triumphs, but my cell phone is the unfortunate casualty) and give my credit card number to an operator who is waiting for her sift to end so she can go to a rave with her eighteen year old co-workers. As soon as I hang up on my brothers phone, I will see my long lost little "celly" sitting on the counter behind the fruit bowl. I swear the bloody contraption has a mind of it's own and hates me.

Honestly, it's been nice to be unreachable. I go home from work without any worries and just relax. No calls from bill collectors, survey givers, parents bugging me about getting married, but it also is a downer to have no friends call either. So, I think I will call in to get another infernal machine... how I hate that device. At least you can call me and complain about my blog...

Thanks for the vent session...

Monday, July 13, 2009

Handle with Care

Today I had to go into the company shop because I'm switching job sites tomorrow. I filled out all the usual paperwork but was required to do a drug test. Feeling no urges to relieve myself, I stopped at a nearby petrol station to buy an orange Gatorade before going to the testing facility. These drug testing places are filled with people who are new hires at various jobs and people who do stupid things and need to test to keep their jobs. You can always tell who is who. By the time I turn in my paperwork, the urges was pretty strong. When they call my name, I am dancing in my seat. Needless to say, I enthusiastically finish my test. The whole time, there is a dude standing outside the door. The same guy has to test my sample.

Now, I don't know about you, but pee tester was never a job I considered. Does one wake up one day and say to himself, "Yes!!! Pee tester!!! It's all so simple," or is it something you fall into like pro wrestling? The craziest thing is these medical techs went to school to be able to examine pee, but let us not forget the doctors who have to oversee the pee testers. All those years in med school and the money to pay for that fine education to look at pee. What is the protocol if the sample is a weird colour? Do you comment on it, or is it bad form to do so? What if you forget for a second that you handled a sample and scratch your face? Is that a visit to the doctor or is a handy wipe fine? You know how the Bath and Bodyworks folks smell like their job... you get what I'm saying. Hopefully, they don't take their work home with them.

Thanks for the vent session...

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Karaoke Woes...

My family came in this weekend to see my new nephew. It is always a treat to see them. My parents came in and grilled me about my love life, as usual, and we made fun of my other family members mispronouncing words, or "fobbing out" as we call it in the islander community. We threw a party and had tons of food. Some of my teenage cousins start getting bored so I decide to put on a game called Lips on my xbox... a karaoke game.

Don't get me wrong, it is an awesome game. The best part is making fun of yourselves and others who get up and sing. Within the game, there are dance moves that you can perform to get extra points. Some of these moves are really hard too. One move I got was something cheer leaders at my ol' Alma Matter called "the Russian". If you have no idea what I'm gabbing about, it's a jumping move where you have to kind of do the splits in the air, touch your toes, and land gracefully on the ground. I have a bad knee, am 6'6" and 330ish lbs. You can foresee the problem right? I was so into the game, that I leaped into the air like some kind of possessed acrobat. Surprisingly, I pulled it off with just a slight twinge for my efforts. I was feeling pretty good about myself, until I found out that my older brother was video taping the whole debacle. For those of you who aren't sure what debacle means:


\-ˈ-kəl, di-, -ˈba-; ÷ˈde-bə-kəl\
also ··cle \also -ˈbäk(lə)\
French débâcle, from débâcler to clear, from Middle French desbacler, from des- de- + bacler to block, perhaps from Vulgar Latin *bacculare, from Latin baculum staff
1: a tumultuous breakup of ice in a river
: a violent disruption (as of an army) : rout
3 a
: a great disaster b: a complete failure : fiasco.

In case you haven't guessed, we're talking definition #3. The only thing worse than knowing that you were belting out off key notes at the top of your lungs while fancying yourself a Dallas Cowgirl, is watching the instant replay. I threatened my brother with bodily harm, but to no avail. He ran into the bathroom cackling like a witch from a Disney Cartoon. Now I fear that the record of my woes may be on youtube. Que sura sura... I've gotta remember to be meaner to my older brother.

Thanks For the Vent Session...