CLICK HERE FOR THOUSANDS OF FREE BLOGGER TEMPLATES »

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

I'm Too Tired For a Clever Title

This morning Tatum wakes me up by coming into my room. I shoot up in bed like a puppet on a pulley and see daylight shining through the blinds. "Shit & Shinola!" I holler. It's usually pitch black when I get up. Turns out I never turned on my alarm. Tatum informed me later that I really scared her.
So I'm scrambling around in my room getting ready later, Aaron has already taken Tatum to school and Reese is waiting for me to take her to the sitter. I slam out of my bedroom door and feel a cold draft. It gets colder and colder as I approach the kitchen, and I see that the door to the garage has been left open. Reese has apparently left it open to make wandering in and out less of an effort. "Where are the dogs? WHERE ARE THE DOGS?!" I look in the house, the backyard, they are nowhere to be found. I find them two blocks away sniffing around someone's front walk way, so I call them and Indy comes running, Grimace continues with the odor at hand, completely oblivious. "GRIMACE!" He perks his ears briefly, then resumes sniffing. I continue to yell until I'm right in his face, when suddenly that glimmer of recognition returns. He wags his tail and follows me slowly to the car. It made me remember that when we lived in Michigan (until I was 8), there was an old lady that lived behind us that used to get trapped in her back yard. We'd see her out there in her robe and slippers, walking the perimeter of the chain link, unable to locate the exit. We'd get Ma, and she'd maneuver her back in. I'm pretty sure her slippers were pink and her robe was quilted baby blue. I don't know why I remember things like that, but can't really recall birthdays or holidays or vacations much.
So my morning started out swell.
Then I go in and see the new guy (Queen Queef's replacement) walking a dog in the yard. "Good morning." And inside I'm like "YEEESSS!" But then I walk through the kennel and there's Edna Manhands, cleaning out a run. What the hell?! Apparently we were still waiting for our PI guy to fire her. I offered to do it. "You really would, wouldn't you?" "Hell Yeah! No problem!" I guess he really needed the guy to address some things because of the Dept of Labor and Blah blah. I was like "I can threaten her too if that's what you need." He declined, but the guy did come in and fire her this afternoon, so now she is officially OUT. Addy-ose Scary Poppins. There was little to no drama, at least for the time being. But she's the type that will try to retaliate in one way or another, so I'll be keeping my eye out for anything fishy. They'll leave a powerful smell and/or a slimy trail to incriminate themselves.
Only here's the thing, I'm wondering if the cure is going to be worse than the disease. This new guy's in his early 20s, apparently he was in the military. This is the first day I've worked around him, and here are some examples of my cause for concern:
1) I was staring at the surgery board today, mentally organizing, and he stops and says, "Can you put me up there? I need something done about my knees. heh heh." "We don't do those kinds of procedures. We can neuter you if you'd like, are you interested in being castrated?" "That'll work too."
2)He walks in the surgery room and says "What's that smell?" "That's burning flesh. We're using the electrocautery on a surgery." And we all cry "Nothing like the smell of burning flesh in the morning!"(that's what we always say). And he says "Smells a lot different than burning human flesh."
3)There's a very large blue plastic container in the copy room. I'm in there getting my lunch, and he's in there getting the trash. "What is that?" I wonder aloud. "Oh, my M16s came in." He says "Oh yeah?" I ask. "I wish."He replies.
4) And finally, we're masking a cat down for a procedure, and he says, "Alright! Pass that over here when you're done!" Insinuating, even if you are kidding, that you are interested in our gas anesthetic as a means to get high, is not cool. Particularly when it's your first week and no one knows you at all, and CERTAINLY does not trust you.
We'll see how Colonel Creepy works out.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

NEUTER HIM! NEUTER HIM! Skip the before, I just want after pictures. I picture a man looking just as sad and violated as my dog. NEUTER HIM! Didn't Bob Barker get neutered? Is that why his last name is Barker?

Christy said...

I love our quick responses - classic.

I'm glad droopy drawers is out of your life... hopeful Private Poopy Pants will get better.