The Job

So, as I may have announced (I don't know, actually, because I don't read my own blog-what kind of egomaniac do you think I am?)....I now have a Job. 

I think we may have covered this previously but alcohol has destroyed my brain cells so...whatevs.

I shall from henceforth refer to this occupation as...The Job.

I know, so original.  Whatever.  Stop judging me.

To keep from being sued and/or fired I shall reveal precious little in detail except, of course, for the things that are hilarious and/or ridiculous (names may be changed to protect the totally lame people I encounter whilst working).

So far I can reveal the following:

1. I work for an agency that provides services to others who live in public I work in public service.

2. My clientele is very diverse and if you sneeze in the general direction of the intake department they will admit you my employer does not discriminate in terms of who can qualify for services.

3. Eligibility criteria is the responsibility of an entirely OTHER department with whom I am not allowed to communicate my displeasure/disatisfaction over their "eligibility" criteria.  I have no control over who is accepted for services 

4.  I have to serve all who come to me regardless of the ridiculously lax qualification criteria or my own super-astute perception of their need. 

New Years Resolutions

I have decided to make a New Years resolution...

Wait, what?  It's May?

Oh dammit.

NEVERMIND.

Dadisms: More (unwelcomed) STD advice

Remember last week when I ended up on the receiving end of an unwelcomed conversation on STD's? 

Apparently you and I are the ONLY ones who remember because today my dad attempted to give me the SAME lecture about how I am not to have any visitors whilst they are out of town and do I know about the danger of CRABS etc. etc. 

I cut him off, reminding him that he already told me this.

Dad:  I did?

Me: Yes.  You don't remember?

Dad: No.

Me: it happened last week.....

Dad: (no response)

Me: I am CONFIDENT we have already covered this...we had a whole conversation about it.  It started ok, but quickly morphed into a questionably appropriate conversation about STD's.

Dad: STD's?  Really?

Me: Yes, I'm surprised you don't remember.  I, on the other hand, was traumatized and it is forever burned into my memory.

Dad: (no response)

Me: I'm not going to refresh your memory because I don't want to relive it.

Dad: Gimme a hint.

Me: No.

Dad: *scratching his head*

Me: Dad, please.  Let's just move on.  Consider me sufficiently warned as to the dangers of unprotected sex.

Dad:  Was it about crabs?  Because I have a LOT of stories about crabs.

Me: Yes.

Dad: *giggling*  Did I tell you about how to get rid of them?

Me: Um...I'm pretty sure we covered everything I need to know.

Dad: *giggling harder* Did I tell you that if you go to the movies and buy some popcorn, then spread the popcorn out over your lap, they'll crawl out to eat the popcorn and then you leave while the crabs stay behind...

Me: (no response)

Dad: *now CRYING he's giggling so hard* Or you can sit on a mirror.

Me: (no response)

Dad: Don't you want to know why?

Me: Sure don't.

Dad: They-

Me: Stop.  Just stop.

Dad: Aren't you curious.

Me: No.  I am not.  Please go away.

Camping Hero-ism

Camping 2013 has begun peeps.  Woo Hah.

Excuse my enthusiasm.  You may remember Camping 2012?

 

This year we began at Yosemite.  And. It. Was. Awesomeness.

 

Except for this...

 

  

And this...

The above totally happened while I was rescuing an abandoned, starving, impoverished, infant baby squirrel from the mighty Merced river at the cusp of Nevada Falls ...as he/she (hard to tell with infant baby squirrels) was about to plunge to his/her death…

OR while I was walking on a PAVED, FLAT trail and totally bit it hard for no real discernible reason except to prove that gravity exists...You are WELCOME gravity.

I just totally validated your entire existence.  Single. Handedly.

Booom.

I am clearly in charge here.
 

Dadisms: Sex & STDs

The following conversation just happened.  Unfortunately. 

My parents are going out of town and *apparently* want to make good and sure that I know there is to be no S-E-X in this house whilst they are gone.  One minute my dad and I are innocently debating whether or not I have a secret boyfriend I am hiding from him (I do not-for the record, but if I DID I would DEFINATELY hide said boyfriend from my Dad for so many different reasons), the next minute we're in totally uncharted territory.

Dad: You know the trouble with crabs, don't you?

Me: Wait, what?

Dad: Crabs.

Me: Please tell me you're referring to the shell fish.

Dad: They say the worst part about crabs is that when you're in the shower they climb up your butt to avoid the water and then track sh*t all over you when they come back out.

Me:  (no response)

Dad: It's true.

Me: Good to know. 

Dad: I learned that in Okinawa.

Me:  (no response)

Dad: I was in the Army.

Me: (no response)

Dad: The guys there always had crabs. 

Me: Hmmm...You don't say?

Dad: Oh yeah.   It was rampant.

Me: You know the NFL draft starts tomorrow.

Dad: (no response)

Me:  I don't know about you but I'm pretty excited about it.

Dad:  (no response)

Shit and Dammit.

I am in trouble.

Apparently, my adorable 4 year old niece is using "bad words" at preschool and it is all MY fault (of course).

Frankly, I think the whole thing is ridiculous.

I mean "shit" I get.  "Shit" is, I think, universally understood to be a bad word.  You should never use that word and I am sincerely sorry for teaching it to her.  (although, in my defense,  I am not the ONLY person using that word around here...but WHATEVS) 

But 'dammit'...really?  When did "dammit" become a bad word? 

Clearly preschool teachers are a WEE bit uptight these days.  Particularly when the aforementioned 4 year old's use of "dammit" seems situationally appropriate. 

EXAMPLES:
She gets frustrated when a toy isn't working right and so she says "Oh, Dammit. This isn't working right!"

Totally understandable.

A fellow 4 year old is not cooperating at nap time and she says, "Oh Dammit Preston, why don't you sleep already?"

Also very appropriate, I think. I mean, why the hell ISN'T Preston sleeping already?  It's NAP time-universally acknowledged to be the time in which you nap or at least fake-nap.

Preston is clearly a moron, and what is the word "dammit" for if not to express frustration over the inadequacies of others?!

Why this is all MY fault is a mystery to me.
  
 

Texty Tuesdays: Prude

Text to my oft maligned procreating Catholic sister...whom i referred to as a "prude" in a recent post.

Me: blog update has landed.

Meg: (no response)

Me: Warning.  I called you a prude in my post.

Meg: (no response)

Me:  In a LOVING way.

Meg:  (no response)

Me: Because you are.

Meg: (no response)

Me: I'm telling you this because you are the only person who actually reads said blog.

Meg: (no response)

Me: So...maybe you could go read it.   Even though I refer to your prudishness in a loving way.

Meg: (no response)

Me: