Random Childhood Memories, Vol. 2

My teacher in Kindergarten was named Miss Patrick. All the other Kindergarten teachers carried stop signs to use while the children were in line, but not Miss Patrick; she held up a giant cardboard cut out of an ice cream cone...it was strawberry, I remember this distinctly.

"When I hold this up, it doesn't mean it's time to eat...it means it's time to stop. and when I say 'ice cream' you should stop what you're doing and look at me." We'd be on the playground, and all the other kids would look over like what the FUCK when she whipped out the strawberry ice cream.


Bitch, if you want us to stop, why the fuck can't you just say STOP? I'd bet my ass she's still teaching someplace, fucking with little kids' heads with her giant cardboard ice cream. TO THIS DAY, if someone says the words 'ice cream' I immediately think 'STOP'. I guess it's a good thing she didn't try out some Pavlovian shit on us or I might be drooling instead.


Miss Patrick was an asshole outside of the whole ice cream thing, too. She rushed us at lunch time so we'd get to recess faster, where she would dump us off on her aide for half an hour. I could never finish my peanut butter sandwich in time, so I'd finish it on the bus on the way home. These identical 2nd grade twins used to scream "PEANUT BUTTER FACE!!!" in perfect unison out the school bus window as I ran down my driveway at the end of the day. One day my mom saw and screamed if they didn't shut their fucking mouths that she was going to run their dog over with her car. They stopped. Mom was kind of a weirdo like that.

She's lump...she's lump...she's lump...

I apparently have a lump in the vag again. Some of you may recall last year's lump incident, but while that one was about the size of a seed bead, this one is about the size of a pea. Probably nothing, but best to check.

The husband found it. I had just worked him over with some oral magic and he was going in for the kill when he whipped his hand back like it was on fire.

H: "You've got a lump in there!"
K: "Really? Where?"
H: [pushes on it] "There."
K: [feels around] "Oh yeah, huh, whaddya know."
H: "That wasn't there before. Are you gonna call the doctor?"
K: "Yeah, yeah, I'll call Monday." [continues to grope husband]
H: [mini-H deflating fast, despite best efforts] "Aren't you worried?"
K: "There's not a fuckin' thing I can do about it until Monday, can we just do this?"
H: [mini-H reaches maximum flaccidity] "Well what do you think it is, should we google it?"
K: "Dude, whatever, I can do that later...can you just fuck me now?"
H: [looks down] "We're gonna have to start over..."
K: "It's probably nothing, can't worry about it now...God, the least you could do is give a girl her last big O before she dies of hoo-ha cancer."


He didn't like that.


He's worried, and that's sweet, but girls have so many defective parts that bumps pop up in the oddest of places and disappear like they were never there sometimes...so it's most likely nothing. So I see the miniature Asian man with small hands tomorrow, and hopefully he'll keep his lube prescription to himself this time.

Dogs

I was puttering around a message board and came across a post from this woman who had recently spent 2 grand on treatment for her two cats. She posted that she was having trouble getting one of the cats to take his anti-nausea pills (they MAKE those for cats?), and someone suggested that she get the suppository version...since the in hole ain't workin', try the out hole right? Well this reminded me of my Grandma and her dog Mikey. For those who have followed my blog for a while, this is Grandma of Hooters and Meet The Fuckers fame.

My Grandma used to have this dog, Mikey...I think it was some kind of terrier mutt, small, white, real mangy looking. Well Mikey was kinda high strung and prone to these fits where he'd flip the fuck out and run all over the house like a maniac, then he'd stop and twitch for a while with his tongue hanging out before passing out from sheer exhaustion. He was also one to pick fights with the neighborhood doberman, who literally shit bigger than Mikey...Grandma tells this story about the time the doberman really fucked Mikey up, and she had to stuff his eyeball back into the socket when he came home. This is a woman who to this day will stick her bare finger into a diaper to determine if shit is present, needless to say the old bat has a strong stomach.

Anyway, Mikey really hated thunderstorms, and would do his flip-the-fuck-out routine for the entire night and Grandma wouldn't get any sleep. Grams was a bit of a pill popper at the time...well, a lot of a pill popper truth be told, she was doing the Elvis Presley routine of uppers during the day and downers at night...so she decided to share the wealth with Mikey and started stuffing half quaaludes up his ass whenever it rained. After a few months of this, Mikey was noticeably calmer, but he drooled and twitched a lot more and started spontaneously pissing himself when you turned a light on. Really odd. I was probably only 6 years old when all this went on, but I remember thinking that maybe dogs shouldn't have pills up their poo-hole.

My dad, years later, named his youngest son Mikey. I don't think he named him after the pill popping dog, but I can't help but think of that weird little mutt every time I see my brother.


Now that I've conjured up this particular memory, I'm sitting here wishing I had some normal childhood stories...like apple picking or baking cookies or something. What the fuck?

Welcome to the real world.

Well I ran into my first bit of corporate bullshit this week. Not going into too much detail, let's just say that a certain manager of another department was offended when I leaned forward onto the conference table and rested my head on my hand as I looked up at the projector during an internal training meeting. He told my boss, the VP, that it looked as though I was "napping." Needless to say, I was horribly offended myself, and seeing as the guy was making off-color jokes and leaning way back in his chair with his hands behind his head the entire time, I'm kind of pissed that someone who has his own issues with professionalism had the gall to raise any question about mine.

I've also come to realize that about 20 people interviewed internally for my position, and that some of the unfriendliness I've been feeling is a direct result of that backlash. Great. Like that's even my fault.

I'm still training, and it's boring...but I'm trying to stay positive. I should start doing some real work, and having a little more autonomy, come January, but I fear that my ass will permanently conform to the "ergonomic" chairs in the conference room before that ever happens.

Best Day Ever

The other day, Youngest Child was pulling some shit, as is customary...picking on Middle Child, stealing his toys, following him around. Middle Child doesn't really talk, so he just generally points and screams as his means on "telling on" the little demon.


The husband yelled at Youngest Child, told him to go sit in time out and sent him on his way, much to his chagrine. He's crying, carrying on, saying Daddy's mean...Middle Child comes out of the bedroom with a big smile on his face, steps over Youngest Child (who was having a tantrum on the floor), singing the melody to "The Best Day Ever" from Spongebob Squarepants.


SpongeBob Best Day Ever (for those not familiar)



YC: "THTOP IT!!!!"
MD: "Ih uh essss aaaaayyyy eeeeeee rrrrrrrrr....."
YC: "THTOOOOOOOOOOP IT!!!!"



When you can't talk, you get satisfaction where you can.

Update

Well week 1 at the new job is complete, and I've not been fired, so that's positive. Sadly, I was unable to give hellhole the notice they so richly did NOT deserve, but I can't seem to muster up any guilt over that.


I had full intention of giving a week of notice...standard for a part time gig. I walked in Monday and could not get my boss alone to save my life. It was a busy night, and when I finally did get her attention, she gave me a rash of shit about something that wasn't even my fault. Then she started being rude to the people who worked for me. Then she started saying over and over, "Well I'm not going to be here tomorrow night, so you'd better get suchandsuch resolved before then," basically rubbing it in that she gets to be home with her kid for Halloween and the rest of us couldn't because she wouldn't give us the night off. Every time she decided to unleash her inner bitch on me, I just smiled. I walked out that night with no intention of ever going back.


The next day (Halloween), I called in sick at 2pm (my shift starts at 5, plenty of time to call in a replacement) and enjoyed Trick or Treating with my kids. I came home to several angry messages...delete...delete...


Wednesday, I drove over to HR after I got home from work and dropped off my letter of resignation. More angry messages. Delete...chuckle...delete...delete...


Haven't heard anything since then. I would say I've burned that bridge right down to the ground. Fuck them anyway. The only thing that bothers me is that I've NEVER bagged on a job like that and that it would have been better to go in and face the music, but I just couldn't deal with a bunch of guilt trips from people that I don't even like. I don't make purely selfish decisions often, so I'm allowed every now and then.


The job is good, I really like the people I work with, and the commute isn't bad at all...little to no traffic. I won't start taking on clients until I'm fully trained (probably January), but I have a pretty good idea of what I'll be doing and I have no regrets.


I'm trying to stay positive and stop expecting some shit to hit the fan...as it usually does...but with my luck, who knows.


Tonight I'm stuck going to a birthday party at a bowling alley with all three of my demons. That should turn into a good story, I'll keep you posted.