I will not lose my shit, I will not lose my shit...

Let me paint a picture for you. You are driving with a friend, not a good friend, an acquaintance. It is raining. The friend is simultaneously driving, talking on the phone, chewing gum, changing the radio station, and knitting an afghan. The windshield wipers are on full speed, and it is only drizzling, so it is smearing shit all over the window and the only thing that could possibly be visible would be a meteor hitting earth. You are about to lose your shit. Lose it in a way that will cause this person to never want to speak to you again and henceforth refer to you as "the pscyho who caused me to hit a light pole." But, you don't want to lose this friend. So, you hold it in. To the point where you imagine tumors and other miscellaneous growths springing up all over your body from the suppressed rage. Because, you know, it has to go somewhere. When you finally arrive at your destination, you have popped a blood vessell in your left eye and have developed a tick. This friend gets out of the car and says, with a big, genuine smile, "well, that was fun!"

That was how I felt when I left work today. The whole way home I blasted Rage Against the Machine and vowed to update my resume.

I would like to take this moment to thank wine.

I am a dork.

How big of a dork am I? I put down the book I was reading about a possessed family in the south to play an RPG on my computer. Pretty big dork, right? I am doing all of this while watching X-Men.

My boyfriend is at his friend's house drinking beer and watching NASCAR with the boys. I am pretty sure what he is NOT doing is telling them what his girlfriend IS doing.

You dirty, Mainframe, you.

Today, I had one of those days that can only be described as a technology orgasm. I toured a company who had the most technologically advanced setup I literally wanted to hump a mainframe. I mean, seriously. IT WAS FUCKING HOT.

This company had their collective shit together. I mean, maybe I have a serious case of greener grass, but I don't think so. They had a wall of flat screens that had an orgasm of system stats just scrolling across the screen. Seriously. It was like techie porn. They had flat screen monitors...multiple flat screen monitors...5 or 6...so they could do a lot of shit. Without Alt-Tab. I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH THIS COMPANY. I would tell you everything if I could without violating a multitude of federal laws. But, let's just say...if this company bends me over...I will totally be their bitch.

My answering machine will fuck with you.

I got home from work today to find the following message on my answering machine.

"Hello. We would like you to take a moment to complete this brief survey. Are you currently registered to vote at this address? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.

I am sorry, that is not a valid response.

Are you currently registered to vote at this address? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.

I am sorry, that is not a valid response.

Are you currently registered to vote at this address? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.

I am sorry, that is not a valid response.

Are you currently registered to vote at this address? Press 1 for yes and 2 for no.

Thank you for taking the time to take our survey. Based on your responses, we will send coupons to the address registered at this phone number."

Is it weird that I can't wait to see what coupons I get? I hope they are for porn. Because, seriously, who doesn't want an answering machine that gets you coupons for porn?

Idiots Procreating

There is one thing that never ceases to amaze me - idiots. There are people on this earth who are literally too stupid to survive. If we were cave men and women, these people would be walking repeatedly into a cave wall wondering why they weren't getting anywhere.

Let me set the scene for you. I needed note cards and tape. I live by about 10 billion retail stores, all of which should carry note cards and tape. I start at Meijer. Those of you who do not know what a Meijer is - picture Wal-mart with less efficient workers. Meijer has tape. Meijer does not have note cards. On to Target. Target has tape. Target does not have note cards. I am beginning to think that there is some card stock shortage I am not aware of. I begin to panic.

I decide to go to Office Max. Or Office Depot. I can't tell the difference. I mean, come on, a little creativity here people. How about something like Paper, Pens, and Notebooks, Oh My! Ok, that was lame. But, you get the point. If Staples can do it, so can you Office "I sound like everybody else" place. I find what I need (yay!) and proceed to the checkout. There is a man approximately the size of earth checking out. The following conversation takes place.

Earth: "What is your return policy?"

Clerk: "On which product?" (he was purchasing a computer and miscellaneous computer related things)

Earth: "All of it."

Clerk: "Well, sir, the computer can only be returned if it is in some way damaged or malfunctioning. Everything else can be returned only if it is unopened."

Earth: "So, what happens if my son turns on the computer and it won't turn on." (at this point, I am thinking, well, did it turn on or didn't it?)

Clerk: "That would mean it was malfunctioning sir. He could return it."

Earth: "What if it is was opened."

Clerk: "Sir, that policy only applies to the other items."

Earth: "So, what if I open the cds and they don't work."

Clerk: "Well, sir, that really isn't how blank cds work."

Earth: "Well, what if it happens?"

Clerk: "Then you can return it."

Earth: "So really your policy isn't totally binding...

And it went on like this for at least 7 years. As soon as earth guy walks out of the store (with his earth sized family) everyone cracks up. Like, who buys a computer from Office Place? Duh.

My transaction takes approximately a nano second, and I am on my way. I walk out into the parking lot and see Earth family getting into the van. As Earth daughter is climbing in, Earth father just takes off. His daughter is literally hanging out of the side of the car. Luckily she was able to pull herself in before they got on the highway. The only conclusion I can come to is in a moment of clarity, Earth dad realized that the only humane thing to do was to kill off his own spawn and stop the spread of stupidity.

Millions Lost at the Zoo

So....the boy took me to the zoo for their Valentines event. All in all, it was interesting. I learned far more about the mating habits of animals than I thought I would ever know. Including watching two rhino's have sex on video. And there are two things you need to know about rhino's having sex.

1. They aren't very good at it. Let me tell you, there is far more trying than succeeding. Five minutes in, I wanted to ask the zoo keepers why they didn't just intervene. I mean, if a 16 year old guy was struggling this much and lacked opposable thumbs, he would be grateful for a buddy guiding things along, if you catch my drift.

2. Rhino's are hung like...well...rhinos. Seriously. It sort of resembles a very long, not so erect sausage. I mean, picture straightening some kielbasa. And that is the poor bastard all the other rhinos make fun of for being small. I am no longer going to say hung like a horse. I will now say, hung like a rhino. But less floppy.

There was a lot of good too. We got to see a lot of behind the scenes stuff at the zoo. We had a pretty good meal, talked to some interesting people, and won an award shaped like the penis bone found in most mammals. You know, over all, a very run of the mill night. As the animal portion of events was winding down, we got to have some one on one interaction with the animals. And no, you dirty minded readers, that does not mean what you think. We got to pet a baby kangaroo and see some baby leopard's up close. More importantly, a Civet climbed on my back. It hurt, I am not going to lie. But, the thing was cute as shit. And I wanted one. Because, frankly, who wouldn't?

So, after the Civet climbs on me, I ask the boy the name of the animal. He doesn't remember. I don't remember. Panic ensues. HOW WILL I CAPTION THE PICTURES? Thank you Google! Only Google betrayed me...Google told me things I did not want to know. Like the fact that Civets are responsible for Kopi Luwak, the most expensive coffee EVER. And you know how they make it? They eat it, and then they shit it. They literally shit the best coffee in the world. Astounded, party of one.

So, naturally, I think what would happen if I stole a Civet? Nobody at the zoo was paying attention. I could have discreetly put said Civet in my purse and sauntered out innocently. I could have made millions. But, no, they never tell you at the zoo that the animal crawling on your back is shitting money.

And the boy was worried I would steal a baby animal and get us both arrested. I bet he wouldn't have complained when our coffee-eating buddy literally shit out millions. I have entrepreneur written all over me.

Heroin and the ER

Yesterday something happened to me for the first time in my entire life - I experienced pain that could not be drowned by alcohol or Vicodin. I called my dad to take me to the ER, seeing as I had all that alcohol and Vicodin in my system. I arrived at the hospital carrying a purse full of entertainment and walking like Bill Cosby to find, much to my delight, that there was no line. I walked right up to registration, gave them my information, and proceeded to the admittance area, which consisted of a chair that looked deceivingly like a recliner and a computer. I sat down, got out my book, and prepared myself for an efficient day at the ER. I mean, there was no line! This was going to be nothing.

Twenty minutes later, the mock recliner of death was proving that life was no longer worth living while I sat and glared at the entire admittance staff wandering around discussing their plans for the highly televised college football game that evening. I was getting irritable. They were doing NOTHING while I sat in agony with no visible pain medication. None. I had no drugs in my system. Enter my "admittance nurse." She asked the typical questions; name, age, sex (really - the boobs should have given this away.) Then, the following conversation took place:

Nurse: "How often do you drink?"

Erratic: "In a day?"

Nurse: (with frantic look on her face) "How many drinks per week?"

Erratic: "You want me to count? Okay, how many drinks is a bottle of wine?"

Nurse: "Four."

Erratic: "Okay, so let's say 4 drinks a day at 7 days a week, 28 drinks."

Nurse: "Do you drink everyday?"

Erratic: "No, not everyday. Sometimes I am too hung over. But, I figured those days I probably had 8."

With a look of horror, she typed something in the computer and walked out. I assume I am going to be getting my AA pamphlets in the mail any day now.

I obediently put on my hospital gown and waited. In walks cute male nurse and tells me they are taking me for an x-ray. Down the hall. They want me to walk (which I can barely do) down the hall (in my socks) wearing nothing but a hospital gown (which could double as the wardrobe for a low budget porn.) Right. I looked at him like are you out of your fucking mind and he chuckled and said, I can wheel you in the bed. We have a winner.

So, I am lying in the bed in my socks and the hospital gown being wheeled down the hall like some sort of invalid. I get to the X-ray room and the cute nurse is replaced with a cute X-ray technician. Seriously, I can go through an entire week and not see one attractive male in the entire fucking city. But, show up in a hospital unshaven in a porn gown and they are coming out of the woodwork. I clamber out of the hospital bed and onto the X-ray table.

Then it happens.

X-ray Hottie: "I need you to roll over on to your side."

Erratic: "I can't. It hurts too much and I will get stuck."

X-ray Hottie: (laughing) "You won't get stuck. Please just roll over on your side."

Erratic: "OK, but when you have to lift me back onto the hospital bed, you will regret making me do this."

I roll over on my side and immediately, I am stuck. See, my back injury was in my lumbar spine - I had a ruptured disc. This caused a lot of pain when using my back muscles. Now everyone lay on their side and try to either sit up, roll over, or even move your legs without using the muscles in your lower back. Right. You would think an X-ray tech would know this shit. By the time the ordeal I will call "you fucking ass hole that hurts" was over, I am pretty sure he wanted to shove my hospital bed out a window.

Then the best thing that has ever happened to me happened. My doctor asked if I wanted my pain killer in pill or injection form. I asked which was stronger and faster. Needle it is. It was like someone cracked an egg on my head - I could feel the pain medication just running down my body. Then I lost all control of my brain. The following events took place in the 4 hours I was on this drug:

I told the nurse that X-Ray Hottie should make house calls. I then immediately took that back because he obviously did not listen to women and was a self involved bastard.

I told my doctor that she should sell this shit because I would be their best customer. Then I asked if she ever sat around with all her doctor friends and got high off this shit, because if I were her, I totally would.

I told my father that none of the drugs I have ever done got me this fucked up.

I told the lady from my father's church that we ran into at the pharmacy that "I may not believe in God, but if anything would make me believe, it would be these fucking drugs I am on."

All of this was accompanied with what my father described as a "drunk, weaving, incoherent" version of his daughter.

I am sure that there would be plenty more horrifying stories of what I said/did had I not immediately passed out on the couch as soon as I walked in my front door. I woke up and barely remembered anything that had happened. I have never in my life done a hard drug. I have done some party drugs and some drugs we will call "natural." If hard drugs are anything like what I experienced, I can see why people love them and I also see why they end up crack heads living in a card board box. Because I am telling you right now, if I knew the name of that drug, my ass would be hitting the street trying to figure out how to get more. And by hitting the street, I totally mean throwing myself in front of cars and asking the hospital to give me a shot of the good shit.