A What In Your What?

When a new blog starts getting hit on by the search engines it's kind of exciting. I'll admit I'm vain enough to see how many pages the searcher had to go through to get to me.

The very first Googled search that led to my blog?

Petrified poop hoarders. I'm the second result for that one.

Today?

A cheese grater for your feet. Which seems pretty mundane to me, but then google threw me for a loop.

There are some disturbing individuals out there.

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Does This Scooter Make My Ass Look Fat?

Have you ever heard the saying that scooters are like chubby girls - fun to ride as long as nobody sees you?

We have a little yellow scooter at work for getting around. Up until now, I've been resistant to riding it. Mainly because of the likelihood of wiping out and the large audience available to witness any potential humiliation, since I am the girl who ran face first into the back of a pick up truck.

Finally Friday afternoon was the day. Nobody was around and I had to wait for the Shipper/Receiver to finish his stuff anyhow. So I rode the scooter up and down the warehouse until I felt comfortable. It's a little faster than walking. Colder too.

So I used it Thursday and I couldn't resist asking Does this scooter make my ass look fat? I made sure I didn't wait for the answer, it probably would have been What scooter?

While I was learning how to ride a scooter, the employees were learning how to work scissor carts.

 Scissor carts have two sets of wheels. One set is like train wheels. They don't turn, they're metal and they ride on rails. Those are the wheels used while in the rows.

Then there's the other wheels. Four castor type wheels that are used to move the cart from row to row and to turn the cart. These wheels drop down or up, depending on which way the switch is pressed.

Simple right?

It's never simple. Every time I turned around somebody was unable to get their cart on a set of rails because the castors were down and locked onto the end of the rails which is U shaped. Or, they were trying to push the cart sideways with no castors - just the metal wheels grinding along on concrete - sideways.

Facepalm.

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Survival Of The Fittest

You know how everyone always says that people who date a long time before marrying have the strongest marriages?

It's survival of the fittest folks. The only ones who make it to the altar are the ones who haven't killed each other.

Honestly, I'm aware that I am seeing the sweetest man on earth. Really I am.

But - after four years of sleeping together dating, my ability to be sweet in return is compromised by familiarity.

Take for instance chewing. I know, we all do it. But - it fucking annoys me to the point that chewing near me is part of the Asshat's arsenal to drive me bat shit crazy.

Since we aren't married (or living together - which if you ask me is the same damn thing) the boyfriend and I have separate addresses, so if I finally lose my shit and ask him "Do you have to chew so loud right in my ear?" somebody will be going home that night.

Asking do you have to chew so loud = no sexy time. Need I say more?

Then there is the whole memory issue.

Men who are co-habitating with a woman on a daily basis would KNOW after 4 years that she has a better memory. Take for instance this recent conversation when he called me on his lunch break.   

Yes I know it's incredibly sweet that he takes 5 minutes to call me on his 20 minute lunch, but he is still wrong.

Boyfriend: It happened eight years ago.

Me: No, it was just four years ago.

Boyfriend: Oh, it was was it (in THAT tone)

Me: It was right after Gary died.

Boyfriend: Yeah, eight years ago.

Seriously folks. I renewed my mortgage for a five year term right after we started dating. It isn't due until 2014, and Gary died after we started dating but before I renewed my mortgage.

Me: We'll talk about it when you get home. Try to have a good night. 

Who do you think is right?


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Port-A-Potties and Bad Tattoos

Does anybody else ever drive by a tipped over port-a-potty and think whew, I'm so glad my son seems to be losing interest in pulling pranks.

No?

Shit.

Okay then.

 Anybody else have a tattoo they regret?

I do. One single time in my life I tried to be trendy. Only I didn't just miss the peak of the trend, oh hell no, I missed that the trend was already a fucking joke.

Yep. I've got the tramp stamp. And as a double fail? It's Chinese characters. To make the entire thing even more trite, I had it done as a reward to myself for making it through the divorce process. Which is long and expensive, so I commemorated it by spending money foolishly on something permanent.

I have had the pleasure of working with two older Chinese men now. Conversing with older Chinese men when one has Canadian ears (not even French Canadian - just English Canadian) is a skill. One that takes continuous reinforcement.

Oddly enough, both of these older men have found this tattoo fascinating.

Why?

It's ugly. It's in dire need of re-inking. Did I mention it's ugly?

This makes me wonder - does it really say Never Compromise as it is supposed to?


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