In OBG-land today is Tuesday. And yesterday was Monday. And Monday didn't exist because I had no internet. But if you end up going to work on Saturday thinking it's Friday, don't blame me. You should all know better than to listen to me. And if you don't, well, you do now.
It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday!
Get ready to experience a whole bunch of randomness...
I had an interview today with a school system that doesn't have any job openings. On the one hand, I don't have to stress and worry for days after wards about whether or not I get the job, however, on the other hand, since I knew I wasn't competing for a position, I'm afraid I didn't give it my all. Eh. What are you gonna do?
And on a similar note, is "elementary" pronounced e-lə-ˈmen-tə-rē or e-lə-ˈmen-trē? Apparently the pronunciation of this word is a regional thing and if you're in an interview with someone from Virginia and you pronounce the word one way, it's a dead giveaway that you're from New York. In Virginia, they pronounce it the other way. Where are you from, and how do you pronounce it?
I've told you before about my blogger crush on DateMeDC. When we meet (because it WILL happen, dammit) I'm sure we'll instantly click, have a grand old time, and have tons of embarrassing stories to tell. That being said, I have an embarrassing story for you.
I'm a klutzy, clumsy person who seems to have the most bizarre accidents happen or illnesses strike. I have, on more than one occasion, been stung by wasps. Two of those times I was stung on the foot (one time I stepped on the darn thing and the other time I was stung while walking through a friend's front door unaware of the nest in their door jamb. No one else got stung, but I did). The third time I got stung by a wasp is a really enjoyable story.
My sisters and I, much to our utter dismay, went to daycare for a few years after school and over the summer. The daycare provider would often take us kids to her mother's house to swim in the pool. Eventually, the daycare provider ended up setting up an above ground pool in her front yard. Now, I don't remember which pool we had earlier returned from or which pool we were headed to, but I do remember that we had set our wet swimsuits out on the front deck to dry. And then we decided to hit the pool again.
Well, in my
reluctantness eagerness to get ready (have I mentioned that I hated swimming and pretty much loathed pool time?) I had neglected to inspect my swimsuit for any creepy crawlies, buggy wuggies or other such flying beasts. I quickly, and painfully, learned my lesson when I immediately got stung IN THE BUTT by a wasp. I'm not gonna lie, it hurt like a mother fucker. Now, you might be thinking, "Whatever. So you got stung in the butt cheek by a wasp. Big deal." Oh no, folks, I got stung IN THE BUTT CRACK.
Who knew my first experience with "going in the out door" would be with this guy?
If you know anything about wasp stings, they often leave a stinger behind that must then be removed. This very generous wasp left behind a stinger. It needed to be removed. Apparently there is a baking soda paste that can be mixed together and applied to the sting to help the stinger removal process along. And of course, this is the tactic the daycare provider decided to employ, much to my utter humiliation. There I was, somewhere between the ages of 10-13, with a small audience, standing in the kitchen, in my bathing suit, butt cheeks spread, while the day care provider applied a paste to my butt crack with a spoon. I don't think I need to describe the complete and utter humiliation I experienced that day.
However, if I had known that the rest of my life would involve even more incidents of even greater humiliation, I might have just laughed along during the butt crack wasp experience.
Did you hear about Matt LeBlanc? Yeah, apparently he used to dye his hair dark while on Friends. Personally, I prefer the grey. What do you think?
Sometimes I wonder, while I'm driving around and bitching about the stupid Virginia drivers, if they're muttering about those crazy drivers from New York.
If anyone ever asks you to go with them for a leisurely walk through the woods, be sure to get an exact description of the conditions of the location you'll be "walking". And if you find yourself innocently enjoying the walk along a paved path through the woods, well, don't be so stupid. That path will quickly change to a trail. And instead of walking, you'll quickly find yourself hiking.
Furthermore, when you're hiking, you should always start at the bottom of the hill/mountain/death obstacle and hike upwards. This way, after you collapse at the top from utter exhaustion with festering blisters and sweat in parts of your body you didn't know could sweat, at least you know that the hard part is over. You can feel quite confident that the way back down will involve a walk/free fall down the hill/mountain/death obstacle that will be slightly less painful. And if you're lucky, as your bounding like a leaping antelope down the side of the mountain, you will trip on one of the many roots protruding from the ground and roll down the rest of the mountain and land in a crumpled heap at the bottom where your comrades can easily scoop you up and whisk you off to the hospital where they will force you to stay in bed and watch TV while pumping you full of liquids and floaty happy drugs.Ah. Good times.
Bob is surprised to find himself enjoying a leisurely stroll down the mountain and thinks,
"Gee, I could go on like this forever." Little does Bob realize, the hike back is uphill. Stupid Bob.
You should not, however, under any circumstances, begin your hike by walking downhill. And if you happen to find yourself in this position, don't naively proclaim what a joyous walk this "hike" turned out to be while you wonder about all the woodland creatures you might encounter (like the ever elusive Fishing Mexican). And if you are gaily skipping along to the tune of your own humming and commenting on how nice the day is and how you really expected to be sweating more, SLAP YOURSELF. Seriously, because somewhere along the line you forgot that there will be a return trip, and while a 6-mile stroll down the side of a mountain seems quite enjoyable, by the time you start to loose steam and develop the first twinges of a blister and decide that you might be ready to head home, it will be too late to back out of the whole thing. You will have to make that return trip back up the mountain. And no amount of begging for someone to come back for you with the car will make the trip any easier. You've been warned.
Welcome new followers and readers. Glad you could join us. And for those of you who are recommending this blog to friends, thanks. I appreciate it, and don't be afraid to tell me you're doing so. I would love to thank you personally. And maybe discover some new blogs in the process.
(NOTE: For those of you newcomers or even some of you long-time readers who are out of the loop, in case you're wondering what [ex.pt.] means or why I often write out the number one instead of typing the numeral, well, it's because the key on my keyboard that types the number one and the exclamation point no longer works. And sometimes I get tired of copying and pasting those two characters. You can read more about it here.)
That seems like enough randomness for one day. Happy Tuesday[ex.pt.]