I can't hear you, could you speak up?

I went three years without seeing a doctor but all of a sudden it seems like I can't stay away from them.

So it was no big surprise to wake up with an ear ache, and really no big deal either since I was already seeing the Nurse Practitioner today.

I met with her and we talked about various things and I asked if Depo Provera was still a no-no for bone thinning or if I could use it. She said there was no reason why I couldn't, but is going to send me for a bone density test.

On top of the trans-vaginal ultrasound I'm still not looking forward to.

Which added to the long awaited gynecologist appointment makes three to look forward to.

Plus my ear is blocked and will need to be flushed in two weeks. Or sooner, since I didn't believe her and jammed a Q-tip in there and made it really blocked. I can't hear a thing out of my left ear now.

It's my phone ear too dammit.

I'm a fill on the right side girl in a fill on the left side world.

After weeks of working from dark to dark, all of a sudden we've hit a lull. Starting at 7am is a pleasant change to starting at 6 (except for the three people one bathroom stuff) and getting done at 5 is nothing to complain about.

Except I do.

Complain that is.

But today ended at 3 and you would think even I wouldn't be able to find something to bitch about right?

You would be right, if I hadn't needed gas.

It seems I'm a fill on the right side girl in a fill on the left side world. And then when a bay finally opened up on the right side of my vehicle what happens? Some little douche canoe pulls in directly from the street.

Fucker. 

So I wait and watch one passive-agressive woman wash every single window on her mini van.

Bitch - do you not see the car wash across the road?

Then I waited and waited while another one walked into the store to pay. I think she was buying herself some junk food too. Just saying.

In the end I had to back into a bay so I could fill my car while bitch number two was still looking for her favorite candy bar.

Because really, I've got stuff to do and a lawn chair waiting for my ass.

Saying Goodbye to The Swinger.

Holy shit, I made it home before The Beer Store closed - on a Monday - and what a Monday it was.

The Swinger was due back from a two week vacation today, except he's not ever coming back. He found another job while he was away.

He won't be missed, even though I've got mixed emotions at the parting. On the one hand I'll never have to deal with his bigotry, hear his Tickle-Me-Elmo laugh, or disinfect surfaces he's touched ever again. On the other hand, I've lost one of my best sources of blog fodder. 

My co-supervisor had the pleasure of cleaning out The Swinger's locker. I think they should have just encased it in concrete since there is no effin way anybody is ever going to want to store their lunch in THAT locker.

There are some things you cannot decontaminate enough to ever be near food which would be everything ever touched by The Swinger.

On the topic of disinfecting surfaces, it seems Mr. Skittles is under the impression he can rinse his mouth at the water fountain and then spit his swish water back in. That's just taking the whole "taste the rainbow" shit way too far.

I'm also going into my fourth week smoke free with only one tiny slip up. Or not so much a slip up as I just needed to confirm that cigarettes do indeed taste like shit. 

If you had ever met the asshats, you would understand how miraculous this is.

Tired is the new normal and finding out I snore.

I'm starting my third week as a "recovering" smoker. There are moments where I still desperately want one. Just not a moment desperate enough to drive to the store for.

Which means it's a really good thing I can't remember where I stashed the "extra" pack I had on hand on my last day as a smoker. By the time I've checked a couple of places in the house and not found those smokes, the urge has either passed or by then I'm just too tired to keep looking.

I've also learned something about myself these past three weeks. With nothing else to do on breaks I've started just putting back the seat in my car and resting my eyes.

Apparently I snore, or at least I do when I'm on my back. It's a good thing. Waking myself up snoring works almost as well as an alarm clock to get me back to work on time. 


Tired has become the new normal in my life. Having only one day off to get stuff done and try to relax a bit sucks, so finding out that my hot water tank wasn't heating water on a Sunday morning did not make my day. Having to call my ex-husband to come and look at it didn't really do my pride any good either, but at least after living with me for 10 years he wasn't shocked by my lack of housekeeping skills.

My mother tried to teach me to cut the tags out of my bras.

A couple of months ago, I went bra shopping. As a moral booster, a bucket of ice cream would have gone further. Especially when I took in the back view and wondered if I needed a set of cups for back there too.

Things were starting to get desperate though. My favorite bra was so old and stretched out that if I lifted my arms too high it was going to hit me in the chin. So I went again.

I even managed to find four I liked. Really only two, I just bought 3 the same.

My mother tried to teach me to cut the tags out of my bras and panties, but I just don't do it. I'm going to have to start.

It's a good thing I don't shop often since I've been walking around all week with the anti-theft tags in my bras.

Oh, and if you follow me on twitter? I'm on day 4 of not smoking.

Yes The Swinger still lives - but it's been a close one.

Skittles and further proof I can be an asshole.

During a conversation I was mentioning that I needed to pace myself when alcohol is involved otherwise I can be an asshole. My 18 year old said "you always are an asshole, you just let it out when you've been drinking"

I couldn't even get mad because it sounded suspiciously true.

***

When The Skittle Man was interviewed, I kept wondering at the odd odor I was smelling. By odd, I mean stinky. For some reason I looked down at the floor and realized he was wearing socks and sandals. He was also wiggling his toes and wafting foot odor towards me.

All of his references indicated he was a reliable steady worker. Since closed toe shoes are mandatory at work, he was hired.

The Skittle Man hadn't worked for some time, so his first day - and it was a long one - left him dripping sweat. I thought for sure he wouldn't show up for a second day, but he did. My co-supervisor complained that he hadn't showered yet on the third day.

At the end of the week, he was asking me some questions. His breath was awful, but then we aren't allowed water on the pack house floor for food safety so bad breath can be expected. I increased my personal space bubble by at least a foot.

And then it happened.

I opened my mouth to say something and tasted his breath - from two feet away!

On Monday, I related the experience to my co-supervisor. He laughed, but I really don't think he believed me. Towards the end of the day, I saw Skittle Man corner him and start talking. Then I saw my co-supervisor say something - and make the eew face.

I asked him what happened.

Him: I tasted it.

Yesterday I saw my co-supervisor get cornered again.  Skittles! Taste the rainbow! popped into my head and hasn't left yet.

So yeah I'm usually an asshole.

But even assholes laugh at googly eyes.

It Isn't Always About Penises

Sometimes, it's about googly eyes.

Other times, it's about dicks

We finally got our new line in this week. The guy who's doing the set up is a real piece of work.

Today, he wants to do some training. Right before break of course. So fine, I can always catch a smoke later right?

Then he proceeds to stand around shooting the shit like it's a Sunday and we're passing time over some beers.

Him wasting my time made my answer to the next problem real easy. He wanted to schedule four hours of training on this new line for down time.

Seriously?

Over the last two weeks I worked 150 of the possible 336 hours. My answer was pretty blunt.

Nope, I'm not doing it. I'm not coming in on a Sunday. I'm not coming in for training at 10pm on a weekday either.

It ain't happening.