I think I'm getting pickier with my job applications, something I didn't think would happen for a bit longer. For instance, when I see the words urine or fecal, I go on to the next one. I'm not sure when this happened... It's not that I'm squeamish, because, hello. I have worked with some pretty gross stuff... I think... It's just that I'll be turning 27 soon, and I think that my fecal and urine-related work experience should be behind me now. I'd like to start working with fewer bodily fluids and other outputs. Maybe even have a cubicle.
On a kind of related rant, I'm a little pissed at my body right now. In the last year, I've quit smoking, and cut back on drinking alcohol, and started drinking water, and eating healthier, and all sorts of good stuff. I have never been so sick, so often. Right now I have... I don't even know what the hell it is. I don't think it's catching. It may be Timmy Thomas disease. You know, you'll be fine and then you'll have this horrible, rasping, disgusting cough. What the hell? Were the cigarettes keeping the viruses at bay? I mean, come on. It's really counter to everything that the health promotion people spout on about. If this keeps up, I"m going to have to start smoking again. It's not that I want to, or even like it anymore. Believe me, I've tried. (I do like the second-hand smoke smell, though. I've never sniffed longingly at so many construction workers and homeless people in my life as since I've quit smoking.)
Oh well.... So in other news, I am taking care of Mum's little dog, Butter Chubs Jr. for the next two days. She's actually not a fat little dog, it's just that I threw my back out picking her up once, so the moniker stays. Plus, it makes Mum laugh. This dog, while adorable and sweet and everything, is so bloody spoiled, it makes my head hurt. Mum was giving me instructions for feeding... "So in the morning and the evening, she gets one third of a can of the wet food." "Okay." "And I'll heat it up in the microwave for 11 seconds." "Oka... Whuh?" "And sometimes, I'll sprinkle a little cheese on top." "You know, mum, I can never tell when you're kidding." "Oh, I'm not kidding, dear."
So last night, I feed the dog. Sans cheese. And the dog sleeps in the bed ("On the left side, dear, I hope that's okay." "The dog has a side?!? Holy Mother, my last boyfriend didn't have a side!"), so we're sharing the bed. I thought I was going to die of asphyxiation last night. I have not smelled gas that terrible in my life, and I've dealt with some pretty rotten mouse bodies... Only one more night of it.... I may sleep on the couch.

Yup... That pretty much sums up my week. Although I did have dinner with Steve-O and Major Pain... Which was good.

Dude... Just... just... dude. What a freakin' pointless day at work. Oh, it's not that I didn't get stuff accomplished, because I did. 'Cause I rock. But, man, you know it's bad when you just get in, and you're already looking longingly at the door. Anyway, so work = bad. Soon work = better, if I get my way. 'Cause I will have new work. Therefore, if a = Me gettin' me way and b = awesome karma job gods lining up to do me favours, than a+b=work=better. Or something like that. I sucked at whatever kind of math this was. Or logic. Whatever. You know, I'm probably still jacked on the uber-disgusting sauerkraut they had at the cafeteria today. It tasted like what I imagine cat butt would taste like. It smelled worse. I could only finish half. And I'm a woman who doesn't believe in wasting food. And the...um... vapours? Can I use that term on the interweb? Duuuuude... All I can say is that I'm glad no one was home. 'Cause I was like, MAN STINKY. That's right, I went there. I wonder what's wrong with me that I can't tell my father how I feel about our inability to communicate, but I can tell people about the gas-inducing lunch I had. I blame television. Yup...
Okay, in other news, I got me some new eyeglasses. Supah-fly, hottie nerd glasses. I am sexy, yo! I think their official product description is "hot librarian". Oh, plus, they're the right prescription, so I don't get the blinding headaches anymore. YAY! So yes. Let that distract you from the bawdy humour previously mentioned in this entry. Ahem. So polite. Unfailingly so. I'm going to go eat Twizzlers now.

Yar... me hearties... It be a good day so far. I've already received two free coffees, and it's not even 11 yet. I kind of have the coffee sweats, though. But I'm a trooper. I'll soldier through it. WHY IS THE SCREEN SHAKING!?! In other news, work is... well.. um... I don't wanna talk about it. Turns out trying to cure cancer sometimes requires you to work on weekends. And miss weddings. And turn into a grumpy, coffee-swilling, trash-talking biatch. Other than that, things progress nicely. Mom threw her back out picking up fat little dog number two, or as I affectionately refer to him, "Butter Chubs". She's doing fine, though, I spent Tuesday with her, lecturing her every time she tried to do something, and then when she'd curl up in pain and whimper, I'd be all like, "I told you so... Now sit down or I hit you, biatch. Do you want it in the back, or one of your robotic hips?" And she's all like, " You can't call me that, I'm your mum." And I'm all like in her face and stuff like, "No, right now you just be an idiot! Now sit on the bed, and let me fluff your pillow, yo! Herbal tea or Earl Grey?" Yeah... We're ghetto. British ghetto. Mmmmm....