My Epidemic

My crew at work are fond of food. We like it. Food es goooood.

Problem is, I can't cook. I've been trying to learn...slowly, but it's not my gift. (I'm convinced my gift is entertaining people that later tell me I talk alot.) So to make up for my total lack of culinary skill, I've taken on the challenge of learning to make as many Campbell's casseroles as possible. So far I have mastered the Green Bean Casserole & Brocolli/Cheese Casserole.

And when I say mastered I mean I can almost bake them entirely without peeking at the directions on the side of the can. Still, everyone has been very supportive of my culinary exploits so far.

In fact, my first casserole was a raving success. Everyone loved it. They complimented me on the juicy texture of my green beans and the crispness of the fried onions. It was truly an achievement of epic proportions.

I only informed everyone later that while transferring the uncovered casserole from my car to work I accidentally dropped my tennis shoe in the dead center of the dish.

Hey! I scraped the top off! It was still juicy and fabulous!

I secretly believe my Nike Shoxs added a little more flavor to the mix. Sometimes Campbells needs just a little more spice to bring out the flavor.

Labels: Workin' Hard or Hardly Workin'?

There's this chick in my class. I can't stand her. Seriously. She's one of those people who make you want to do one of three things:

1. Punch her in the fucking vagina.

2. Shove pointy objects into your ears until you can't hear anymore. (Which just leaves you staring at her.)

or

3. Paying a dark, international mercenary to abduct her in the night and sell her to some burly eskimos to gut fish for the rest of her life in fucking Antartica.

Yes, friends. She is one of those people. It's probably her "quirky attitude" that gets to me. Or her overall perkiness no matter the day, time or situation. No. Wait, I know why I can't stand the girl. She won't fucking shut her mouth. Ever. Her jaw is continually flapping no matter if someone is listening or not.

This is my 2nd class with the girl and she's managed to talk over the Prof both times. The first class was fortunetly a music class I didn't really care for and so I skipped. Actually I think I went to it three times for three tests. Ta dah! A's all around.

But this class is all discussion and everything that comes out of her mouth has some weird catch phrase. It's not as it she's some perky blond. I'm immune to them having grown up in Omaha, but this one...no...I could never get used to her.

She's a hippie. Now, I'm not Cartman. I don't hate all hippies. But this one. This one I hate.

She's always wearing some knit scarf that looks like she pulled it out of the garbage and drinking coffee out of a little foam cup, arguing about women's rights and quoting alternative music. Normally, I'd have no problem with these things. (I'm all for women's rights but Femi-Nazi's like her make me want to take away their Vagina-Cards.)

Plus. Plus! She never shuts up! (I said this already didn't I...) The second week of class I was sucessfully tuning her out when she suddenly jumped up, marched to the front of the class and demanded that our 70-year-old Santa-looking Prof give her a high-five. He just sort of stared at her for a few moments as she kept repeating, "Don't leave me hangin'. Don't leave me hangin'." And then eventually gave her what she so desperately wanted, the attention of the entire class.

Then the other day we were discussing the sovereign rights of women in Islam and whether they should veil or not veil, when someone said, "If it's hot they should be allowed to take off whatever they need to." (Not the brightest point of the discussion but whatever.) When she started singing, "It's gettin' hot in here. So take off all your clothes." Then she did this little shimmy. ...ahem... And then I fought back the vomit.

Never mind that the chick was wearing a shirt that said, "Would Jesus use nuclear weapons?" (That was enough to irritate me) but she was singing Nelly and gyrating in her chair. The whole class again paused momentarily to stare slack-jawed at her.

Today, wasn't so bad. She only used her Razor phone to mock shave her face for a few minutes until she could rally up a forced laugh from her lackey. And then told some kid he should know what something costs because he's Jewish.

Right now...I'd say I'm leaning towards just hauling off and decking her in her vagina to teach her a lesson about being one of those women who need attention to validate themselves but are more than willing to offer advise to others on how to improve their lives.

Vagina punching. The next Olympic sport.

Stay tuned for more vagina-punching details!

Labels: All things Vagina, Scholarly Articles of Interest

You know that scene in Forrest Gump where Tom Hanks is shot in the ass and when he's in the army hospital he gets all the icecream he wants? Hmph...no icecream here. Granted, I wasn't shot in the ass while carrying another soldier to safety. And I don't have the IQ of my frozen cream...but still...I want some. Where is it? Where is my icecream? Fuck you, Tom Hanks. And your fluffy, vanilla icecream.

So maybe I got a little ahead of myself. I suppose I should explain how I got shot in the ass. It was a needle. Wait, excuse me, it was a big fucking needle. In. The. Ass.

And it hurt.

I suppose I didn't really think that much about the actual process as I stumbled into the Doctor's office at 0dark30 this morning (Translation: 9 AM). I mean, I get a call from my doctor saying I can get this shot to prevent cervical cancer and its covered by my insurance, what am I gonna say? "No thanks, I think I can handle cancer. I've lived long enough, anyway. Besides if I do get some deadly incapacitating disease, I'd definitely want it to be in my vagina. You know? Women parts and all that are totally overrated."

Um...nope. I got my ass out of bed and rolled into the doc's. Only to find out that said ass was getting shot. Not the kind of surprise I'm used to dealing with that early in the morning.

(Now, guys may want to skip down a bit unless you like hearing about girly-parts and their maintenance.) So I'm sitting on that crinkly white paper, staring like a zombie at the little glass jar of cottonballs, when my friendly Doc comes in and says, "Oh, by the way. I was looking at your chart and you're do for your Pap next month. Wanna just get it done today?"

I blinked rather slowly at her. "Um, Doc? I really like you and all...but it's a bit early for you to be going...you know...there."

She smiled her amused little smile (She is way too used to my antics). "K. Well, we'll getcha' scheduled soon."

(Okay, guys. You're good to start reading again.)

A few minutes later my favorite nurse came waltzing in. This particular nurse knows my entire family and medical history. She knows my school, my major, my boyfriend, my tendency to gag obnoxiously when she's swabbing my throat for Strep. And...she knows I have this thing about shots. I've had way too many in my lifetime. I was on an Allergy shot regimen when I was younger that included two shots in each arm three times a week for three fucking years. YEARS. Suffice it to say...I'm sick of people jabbing little sharp objects into my body...and my favorite knows this. Not that it stops her from giving me the shots...but I'm certain she feels awful about it.

"So, where exactly am I getting this one? My arm?"

"Nope." She gave me a sad look. "In your boo-tay."

I wanted to say, "Is that the technical term?" Like Val Kilmer in Batman Forever (Look it up. I know my Batman.) But, it being so damn early, I ignored the Bat-alarms going off in my head and dropped my pants.

I know what you perverts are thinking. "So, wait. All we have to do is say we're going to stick something in your ass and you just drop your pants?" The Answer: If its really early in the morning and I've got 4 hours of sleep...yes. That's all there is to it. I've never been ass spelunking but 9AM is my braindead hour. I may look alive but I'm really not.

Anyway, I'm bent over this little table with my fav nurse behind when she says, "You'll feel a little pinch."

Okay, there's the pinch...and there's the totally unbelievable burning pain shooting through my ass that she NEVER FUCKING MENTIONED!

"I like your jeans."

I growled something incoherent while my ass throbbed.

"Guess?"

I nodded violently.

"I didn't know they made lowrise flares."

Oh my God! How can you talk about flares at a time like this! My ass is on fire!

"They're cute."

"Flat butt."

"What?"

I groaned, reaching for anything to talk about other than the searing pain in my right butt cheek. "Iswaminhighschool-AndeverybodysaysIhaveaflatass- Becauseofitandtheyneverdropitso-thesearetheonlyjeans-thatfitmyflatass!" I think I shouted it at her.

She made some agreeing sound. "Well they look good on you." And then she released me from her death grip. My cheek was free!

I flopped onto the exam table like a dead fish.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you and then you can go."

I laid there motionless until she told me I could leave. I felt so used.

The End

PS
I'm still waiting on my goddamn icecream.

Labels: Completely Unrelated Rantings