This is not a typical guest post or blog swap though. No way, no how. That would be too easy and you know how I fail at simplicity! You can read my post over at Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin's place. At some point, we'll swap back the other direction (it's very complicated - blognut made us a chart and did all the math!) and you can read Mo's awesomeness here.
So enjoy a day that's not "me". As a bonus, Tonya & Rusty have already claimed tomorrow for First Fursday so you don't have to listen to me again until Friday!
Woo hoo! I get to play over at Cate’s blog today and I couldn’t be more excited. Shush! Don’t tell her that I never pick up after myself and that’s why no one ever let’s me come over to play. She’ll figure it out soon enough, and by then she’ll be really ticked off and that will give her something to blog about tomorrow.
Anyway, here I am and I get to tell you about my worst day from hell. For the most part, this is the kind of crap I have to put up with every day. Yes, this is your opportunity to feel sorry for me. I’m accepting donations or something. You know, whatever you can spare is good.
Hell Day, huh? Well, let’s take it from the top.
6:50am - Jackass alarm clock goes off, bleating like a goat on crack. Slap the shit out of the snooze button, pray for 9 more blessed minutes of sleep, and then peek at the clock with one eye open.
6:50am and 2 seconds - Realize the snooze button has already been applied 7 times and leap out of bed like someone with dynamite lodged in her butt crack.
6:59am – Hit the shower. Remember that the new razorblades are still lying on the desk in the kitchen. Shave with dull blade anyway. Nearly amputate left foot. Swear like sailor. Leave armpits growing goatee.
7:02am – Apply generous amount of shampoo to eyeballs. Go blind for 6 minutes.
7:09am – Recover from fall, glare at self in mirror and wonder what happened to upset the Fates. Notice dry skin. Grease self up like a pig at the fair. Get lotion in shaving injury. Swear like sailor.
7:14am - Yell at The Boy to get out of bed and jump into yesterday’s clothes because I forgot to do laundry. “Don’t worry, Buster. No one cares what you’re wearing.” Make note to dodge calls from Child Welfare.
7:18am – “Just wear Daddy’s socks, I didn’t wash yours yet.” “No one will know that they come up to your crotch if you don’t show anyone your crotch.” “Work with me, Boy! I’m losing it.”
7:20am – Throw waffle at The Boy, throw butter at The Boy, hand The Boy a knife. (What, you thought I’d throw a knife at my kid?) Run back upstairs to plaster face with make-up and don a banker’s costume.
7:30am – Run hose, search for more, find none. Decide to skip the skirt and find pants instead. Apply safety pins and scotch tape for “temporary/permanent” hem. Curse drycleaner for not realizing that scotch tape on pants was actually an invitation to hem pants.
7:39am – Begin the daily ritual of searching for shoes; both mine and The Boy’s. Find one shoe in closet, other shoe behind chair in family room. Mild chew marks on heel of shoe. Polish over it, it’ll have to do. Give up search for The Boy’s tennis shoes and instruct him to wear soccer cleats. “Really, people will think you’re so cool.”
7:50am – Make lunch for The Boy to bring to school. Crap! No bread, no jelly. Smear peanut butter and mustard onto hamburger bun and stuff into the last sandwich bag. Find candy bar and fruit roll-up and throw those into the lunch box, too. Underline earlier instruction to dodge calls from Child Welfare.
7:55am – Out the door! Drop boy at school, being careful to bring car to a complete stop unlike last time which resulted in a call from Child Welfare.
8:02am – Fly onto the on-ramp for I-55 and then notice sea of blazing brake lights. Swear like sailor. Back car up the on-ramp and opt for surface roads instead of interstate.
8:05am – Drive past Starbucks with no time to stop. Shed many tears. Swear like sailor.
9:10am – Arrive to work only 40 minutes after the bank opened. Realize that means I’m only 10 minutes later than usual. Sneak into office and spread files around so it looks like I’ve been there for hours.
9:20am – Find coffee mug with something furry and solid growing in mug. Abandon coffee idea and reach under the desk for the case of Diet Pepsi. Find out the Diet Pepsi is all gone. Swear like sailor.
9:22am – Check blog. Find no comments. Find no hits on site. Feel mighty unloved. Fall into deep state of depression. Begin to actually work.
1:00pm – Give in to hunger pangs and head for the break room. Realize I have forgotten to bring myself a peanut butter and mustard sandwich. Find slightly hairy bit of cheese in the refrigerator, scrape off hair, and eat it anyway.
1:20pm – Return to desk and resolve to get something done.
1:22pm – “Favorite” customer shows up without an appointment and wants to talk about his IRA account. Search for sharp object to jam into my ear. Finding none, review FDIC coverage, IRA regulations, and feign interest during remainder of conversation regarding politics and why the state of the economy is probably the fault of the Democrats. Bite tongue until tongue bleeds and pray for phone to ring.
2:18pm – Starving again. Locate 4 year old tube of cherry Chapstick in desk drawer and eat it.
2:30pm – Get up from desk without remembering to close file drawer. Shatter right leg on desk drawer. Swear like sailor.
2:32pm – Unable to remember where I was going before suffering crippling injury, sit back down and check on blogs. Find only 2 comments. Swear like sailor. Vow never to read any of these people again if they don’t start leaving comments. Read blogs anyway.
3:20pm – Realize how much time has passed while reading blogs and get back to work.
3:30pm – Remember that I was getting up an hour ago because I needed to pee.
3:31pm – Find that the restroom has been rendered uninhabitable by inconsiderate co-worker with irritable bowel syndrome.
3:32pm – Return to desk with full bladder and type up an angry email to staff reading: “Please adapt eating habits to allow for obnoxious shit-making to occur at home. Spraying horrendous amounts of peach air freshener only leaves the restroom smelling like peaches and shit. Stop it, do those things at home.” Decide not to send email to co-workers and send it to SecretSpineless[dot]Whine[at]blogger[dot]com instead.
6:00pm – Give up pretending to work and head for home.
7:00pm – Arrive home to find that no one has emptied the dishwasher, and The Boy has not started his homework. Swear like sailor.
8:30pm – Blog. Read blogs. Check email. Update Facebook status to read, “I’m huddled in the corner eating my own hair.”
11:30pm – Pound last Diet Pepsi of the day and head to bed.