Sunday, March 29, 2009

I Hate the "C" Word! (and it's not the one you think)

CANCER. There I said it. What a dirty, rotten, no good thief cancer is. I know some of you out there may not think that I am capable of deep thought or reflection, but believe it or not, I do have a softer sensitive side. As of late, cancer has reared its ugly head in my life and I would like to take a moment to share the impact it has had on me here.

Several months ago, a friend of mine from high school, Melissa, passed away after a graceful, inspiring, and courageous battle with breast cancer. Melissa and I lost touch shortly after high school, and unfortunately I learned of her passing through her obituary. I harbor quite a bit of guilt and regret because of that. Contained within her obituary, was a link to a blog that she had been writing, detailing her experiences with cancer To say that her blog was moving would be a gross understatement.

After reading her blog, I was in awe at the way that she shared her journey in such an open, honest and naked way. And through all of the painful awfulness that cancer brings, she remained unfailingly positive and rock solid strong. It got me to thinking about why on earth something as terrible as that would happen to such an amazing person.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am almost 31 years old. And in my time on earth, I have known quite a few people, most of which I would classify as good and a few I would have to say are down right bad. But of those many good people I have known in my life, there are a few that I can only describe as shiny. You know what I mean. They are special and neat and good and true, and they are an absolute joy to be around. Whether you know them a lot or a little, you know without a doubt that you are better for knowing them at all. Melissa was one of those shiny people.

Unfortunately, another shiny person in my life is in the clutches of stage four cancer. He's my friend Phil. I don't claim to be a smart woman, so I don't know the ins and outs of his type of cancer or what affect it is specifically having on his body. All that I know is that it's bad, it has moved too painfully fast, and I don't know what the future will hold.

Let me tell you a little about Phil. He is someone I work with and that I can't help but admire. Phil's job entails investigating and bringing to justice those who commit crimes against children. He is the best at what he does. He is patient, dedicated, humble and relentless. And he always has a smile and a moment of his time for everyone. He is just one of those shiny people.

So I decided to honor Phil like I wish that I would have had time to honor Melissa. I wrote a little poem for him and this seemed like the best place to post it. Everyone loves you buddy, and we are all praying for your recovery.

An Officer's Tribute

My dear friend in blue,
the truth you always sought.
The weakest who were wronged
were the ones for which you fought.

My brother in the badge,
your faith in justice shown.
No matter how fierce the battle,
no victim was left alone.

My true and honest champion,
your quest for right's been won.
The peace your work has given
will never be undone.

My role model and inspiration,
you're what a man should be.
A father and friend to his own,
and to all others that he sees.

My hope and guiding light,
I hope to live like you have done.
Your selfless acts of kindness prove
that you are truly God's son.

Phil, you are my hero,
but I'm just one of thousands strong.
And we will walk you through this journey,
hand in hand, no matter how long.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Spring Has Sprung

Hello everyone! I'm sure you all were wondering if St. Patty's day bested me, since it has been so long since I've blogged. But it did not! As a matter of fact, my friend Moose and I had a stinking blast on St. Pats, and would deem it a total and undeniable success! We started the day off around 2:00pm and headed down to Flannigans where we drank a considerable amount of beer. I even consumed a large wiener covered with sauer kraut (which seemed to please the vendors so much that they took a picture of me eating it! I'm sure that picture is sure to pop up at the most inopportune time!!).

Then it was on to Taggart's to continue the drunken debauchery. My old man met us up there to join us in the drunk fest, and egged me on to break my cardinal St. Patty's day rule! And that wily old fuck prevailed! It was at that point that I switched over to jager bombs, and truly began to defile myself. And despite the addition of the potent bombs to my already decently buzzed bloodstream, I managed to close down the bar before heading home to brick city. Even with my liquor-soaked liver, I managed not to puke the day of or the day after!! So, like I said, it was a total success.

Since St. Pat's, I even ventured down to my favorite place in the whole wide world for a nice four day getaway. I speak of none other than Lake Cumberland in beautiful Nancy, Kentucky. My old man's family has had the same place down there for nye on fifty years (I totally stole that line from Reba). We even have a slip (or dock for you non-lake folks), which is hard to come by down there. It was a fabulously relaxing little trip, complete with fishing, quad riding, good food eating (made by me of course. I'm quite the little chef, I'll have you know!), a little beer drinking, and good uninterrupted sleep! I even caught a six pound small mouth bass, which of course I am having mounted to hang on my wall.

Other than that, not too much else to report. My birthday is fast approaching though, and I wanted to let you all know that I'm not offended by cash gifts. Just in case you were wondering.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Getting my ducks in a row on St. Patty's Day Eve

Well, I'm gearing up for everyone's favorite green tinged holiday. That's right folks, St. Patty's day is here again. Would you all believe me if I told you that this year is the first year I will be partaking in the St. Patty's day festivities? It's the truth, or tru dat for the slang-sayers out there. How is that possible you ask, what with my penchant for parties? The answer is simple..... I mother stinking work a lot. And this is the first year that the god's saw fit for St. Pat's to fall on my regular day off. Not only that, but I also have Wednesday off. A perfect built-in recovery day. If I didn't know any better, I'd say my participation this year was meant to be.

So, how does one prepare for St. Pat's, you ask? Well, in my strange little universe, it goes a little something like this. I started by laundering and laying out my St. Patteroo attire. It will consist of the following:

1. My most comfortable dark blue, multi-pocketed, elastic-waist having(what?! I hear green brewskis can cause bloating and gas!) jeans.
2. My favorite green john deere shirt that says, "I would trade my husband for a john deere tractor." (which is a true statement, by the way)
3. Cleverly decorated Saint Pat-hole sockies.
4. Comfortable, yet stylish green converse chuck taylors.
5. The sought after shamrock antennae.
6. Fashion forward shamrock-shaped sunglasses (my eyes are sure to be light sensitive from the green beer)
7. A fine, and eclectic array of St. Patrick's temporary tattoos (which came straight from Ireland....or Walmart. Your choice.)
8. Several stands of green beads made from the finest gems, that were mined from the coveted Dayton area....... fine gem mines.
9. And absolutely nothing underneath. Well except that I've decided to paint green shamrocks to cover my hoots and my coot, just to show my dedication.

Tonight, I plan to get a good night's sleep in order to be rested up and ready to go tomorrow. I will roll out of bed around noonish (I'm not quite hardcore enough to do the 9:00am bullcrap, unless you mean still going by 9:00am on the 18th!). Plus, I like to think of noon as my 9:00am anyhoo. I have my no-fun-having-but still willing to drive my drunken butt around-designated drivers set up. I've pledged to stick to beer all day, and will drink no hard alcohol no matter how nicely you ask me. And I think that about covers it.

What's the big deal you ask? It's just Saint Pat's day. It's only March 17th, you say? People do this crap every year and it's nothing new or exciting. You think I'm getting my hopes up that it will be something spectacular and life changing, only to be sorely disappointed by its mundaness. But worry naught, little buddies. All of my preparation is not to ready me for the Saint Patrick of Ireland Day, but rather to ready old Saint Pat for me. That's right, I said it. So look out green beer drinkers, here I come. You might even learn something.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

To all of the annoying people on the planet. . .

Luckily for me, I was blessed by being born cool. And I don't mean kind of cool, I'm talking super cool. I mean I'm funny, I'm hot, I'm like uber-smart, I have regular bowel movements.... What more could you ask for as far as being cool goes? Nothing, that's what. But there are some of you out there that I have to say are decidedly uncool. And down right frigging annoying. And the most annoying part about you, is that you are completely oblivious to your annoyingness.

For example, some people that I know have a problem with interjecting their annoyingness into a conversation that I may be having with someone of equal coolness. Hey annoying-hole, don't you realize that if you were cool and not so annoying that maybe me and my cool buddy would be talking to you! But your weirdo annoying comments make it all the more likely that I will continue to ignore your ridiculous annoyingness!!

As a matter of fact, annoying-holes of America, you are really starting to hack me off! The way that you constantly try to make stupid jokes that aren't funny at all, but they are in fact amazingly annoying. Don't you notice that nobody laughs at them? That instead everyone sighs loudly, shakes their head, and then begins texting each other, furiously screaming about your annoyingness!!!!

Beware annoying-holes, because you have lit my fuse with your unbearable annoyingness and at some point I am going to erupt! And when that eruption occurs you will finally be aware of your annoyingness, because I will be hollering about your annoying ways while simultaneously poking you in your big, fat, annoying eyeball!

Ok, I feel much better now.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Random Urination

So today I get to work, and I get the old, "your number's up, I hope you have to pee" phone call. Yes, I am speaking about random drug testing. I'm sure that some of you out there in the blogosphere work at a job where that's something that just happens periodically(or shall I say randomly) throughout the length of your career. I also happen to work at a place that utilizes the pee pee test.

I'll give you a rundown of how it works where I work. It'll kind of be a lead in to a rather infamous embarrassing story about myself. It's not even embarrassing anymore, probably because I have no shame, but it is entertaining for those who haven't heard it.

Ok, so at my job the pee test is truly random. As in, you show up to work one day and the pee fairy is waiting there to wisk you away to have your pee extracted at the pee place. AKA your boss tells you to hop in his crown vic and drives you to the local urgent care while everyone stands around waiting for you to wee in a cup. You have to give em your thumb print, they make you wash your hands before you go in, and after you are done making your little yellow fountain drink, you are not allowed to flush the toilet. You bring your creation out to the nurse lady who documents the temperature of said pee (my lady wasn't even wearing gloves when I handed her my pee cup!! I could have rubbed my beef and cheddar all over that thing! Yikes!), she then makes sure you didn't dump anything in the toilet(drugs or a vile that held someone else's urine), and then you are done. Normally, there are at least five people at a time who get drawn to wee. So there you have it, pee testing 101.

So this brings me to my embarrassing story..... Several years ago, I was stupid enough to volunteer to work the day shift. To say that mornings are not my thing, would be putting it mildly. This particular morning, I was running especially late and did not have time to stop and take my morning dumpski. I thought it would be no big deal, that I would just wait until I got to work and take it then. So I haul balls to get to work on time, and luckily I made it without a second to spare. I walk into the joint, and to my horror, the pee fairy is sitting there waiting on me!!!!!

What do i do? I mean I need to take a major crap, like as in the tropical storm is just off the coast and about ready to make landfall!! It's not like I could tell the pee fairy, "Hey hang on for just a minute I need to go to the can first." How suspicious would that look?! So I calm myself by thinking that I can just go to the pee place, squirt a few drops into their dang cup, get the heck out of there, find the nearest toilet and poop away.

So myself and four other lucky pissers hop in the car and head to the pee place. We pull up and walk in, and by this time, beads of sweat are popping up on my brow. As my bad luck would have it, I'm first up. I'm sure you're saying, "Bad luck? I thought you had to poop?" Well, I did have to poop, but the problem is that everyone has to take their turn using the same bathroom to pee in the cup. . . And I'm first up!

The nurse has me sign all the paperwork, hands me my cup, and shoos me into the can. Just before the bathroom door shuts, she peeks her head in and says, "And remember, DON'T FLUSH!" By this time, I look like I'm about three months pregnant, and the old phrase, "You're so full of shit, your eyes are brown" is starting to have new meaning. All that's left in the room is me, the toilet, the cup, and fear.

I undid my britches, took a seat on the throne, and started praying. After about fifteen minutes and one "checkup" knock on the door by the nurse, I hadn't produced a single drop. It was then that I had to face the harsh reality that there was no way on God's green earth that I was going to get one, with out the other. So, with a sigh and one tiny grunt, I unleashed the fury of my bowels. It was ugly people, I mean U-G-L-Y! Then, and only then, came the golden trickle that I sought.

I was left wondering how I was going to make this awful, tragic situation better. I didn't have much time to work up a good plan though, because my cup of golden good stuff was getting colder by the second. So I did the only thing that I could come up with in that short amount of time. . . I piled up right around 800 pounds of wadded up toilet paper on that nasty mess, shrugged my shoulders, and walked out to the nurse.

I handed over my cup-o-pee to the lady, and she strolled into the bathroom to check the toilet. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself when she hit the wall of stank. She looked at me with disgust, and all I could muster was a sheepish grin while mumbling "sorry, I really had to go." She flushed the toilet and it all went down, which was the only thing that went right for me that morning. After all that, I just got the hell out of there, leaving my pride behind. Then, I got to thinking about how funny that whole affair was, and I ended up telling everybody about it! Weird, I know, but all for the sake of humor. See, I told you I have no shame!

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Going for a blog

Ok people, so I've decided to start blogging it up. Please don't expect to learn anything here, or for my musings to enrich your life in any meaningful way. In fact, you should expect to be generally disgusted by my juvenile, 14 year old boy-esque way of viewing the world. That said, lets get to it.

So I love me some American Idol. However, this year I am not super impressed with the "talent." How is it possible for nearly all of the top 36 to choose the wrong song? In my mind, if I were in the top 36 (if we're gonna be real, in my mind I am the next American Idol!. . . but that's beside the point), I would be rehearsing my song 24/7. I would be singing it for any mo fo who would listen, especially those in my life who would cut through the bullshit and tell me whether or not it sounded like crapola! This top 36 must be surrounding themselves with a whole gaggle of little pilled out Paula Abdul clones, who wouldn't give them a negative comment if their little over-medicated hearts depended on it.

Speaking of over-medicated, or possibly under-medicated?.... I can't help but love Tatiana's crazy ass! I love the compulsive cackling, the spaced-out sort of trippy things she says, the weird shit she wears, and her overall general narcissism. I think she is hilarious. I mean, did you see Seacrest try to get a hummer from her on national television on Thursday? Anyone that can get Ry-guy to switch back to the home team is ok in my book. I would buy her a beer, but I'd be afraid that the narcotic/alcoholic cocktail it would create in her bloodstream would send her to the grave, and she is way too entertaining to croak. I will truly miss you Tats (we're tight, that's my pet name for her).

I think my fave this year is going to be oil rigger guy. I wasn't bowled over by his luke warm performance this week to get into the top twelve, but overall I think he has potential. Plus, if his singing is sub par, I would at least consider taking a peek at his wiener. See what you can do about that Seacrest.