Gym bunnies are annoying

So I went to the gym on Monday right after all the skinny girls finished Zumba.  Nothing like getting undressed and into your gym clothes in front of Barbie and friends, but whatever, I got over that phobia in 6th grade phys. ed. Mostly what I learned is that it is never a good idea to run out of the shower to hurry back to your little locker to hide while you are buck naked with a towel the size of a dish cloth.  Fat girls fall hard and they make a slapping sound on the floor.  How do I know this?  It happened to me in 6th grade.  So, I owned it from there.  If you want to stare at the fat girl in her undies that have the day of the week printed on the back and training bra, go ahead.  And why did they use such small towels?  Buncha bull if you ask me.

Anyway, today, I go to the gym a little later to avoid gym bunnies.  I walk into the locker room and the place is empty.  Yes!  I pick the spot in the corner where I could have some privacy if others came in there.  I mean, I need room, do you know how hard it is to get back into your fat controlling device (FCD) after you have worked out and are damp either from sweat or a shower?  I need room to move around to get that accomplished.  Arms flail, bending happens, it is a separate workout all together.  So, I have the perfect spot for that.  I leave my stuff there so it is clear I have marked my territory.  It couldn't have been anymore clear if I had pee'd on the bench.

I go out into the gym and do all the stuff the trainer showed me on Monday.  At least, I think I was doing what he told me.  I'm not going to lie, while I was balancing on that ball with my hands and was in push-up position, I was trying to remember to breathe and tuck my butt and focus on my core, but it wasn't pretty.  I might as well been trying to ride a unicycle and juggle.  None the less, I got 'er done.  Meanwhile, in the midst of my extremely athletic performance on the balance ball, Barbie and friend enter the gym. Skinny bitches. Hate em.  I continue my circuit on the bike and then the eliptical and then back in for some work on my legs.  My muscles were screaming.  They warned me not to go to the gym, but I went anyway.  After Monday, they were not amused.  It was good though.  I was breathing good and sweating. I was a cardio machine.  Nothing could ruin my buzz, not even catching a glimpse of myself doing this stretchy thing with my hands up and my belly peeking out from under my shirt as I raised my arms.  I was a work-out goddess and a vision.  I was sporting a bright pink Hanes Her Way t-shirt and some black sweat pants with red and white racing stripes down the side.  Those gym bunnies could only dream of looking THIS COOL while working out.  I owned it.

Ok, so show is over.  I walk into the rather spacious locker room and what do I see?  Barbie and Buffy had set up shop on both sides of me.  One of them had their bag next to mine on the bench and then the other one had it on the floor next to mine.  Why would they do this?  Were they making a fat girl sandwich?  I was so irritated.  I wanted to kick their stuff or sit with my naked sweaty butt on the bench.  That would show them.  But then I started thinking, I know what these girls do in the bathroom, who is to say someone else hasn't sat their sweaty ass on the bench?  I decided to take the high road.  I got cleaned up and left. 

These gym bunnies will learn, if they are going to crowd me, they are going to see a lot of cellulite.  I'll walk around the locker room naked if need be.  I bet they start working out in the morning instead of on their lunch then.  My next attempt at athletic excellence is Friday.  I'll keep you posted on if I had to resort to any unsavory acts to claim my FCD dressing area.

I'm not friendly, I keep telling you people...

I've never made it a secret that I am not an extrovert.. I am friendly and social in situations that I choose to put myself in.  I do not view the grocery store as a social situation.  I view it as a necessary evil.  I go in, get what I need and get out.  I don't want to make small talk with strangers in the aisles or in the check-out line.  I don't talk to you, don't talk to me.  That is just how I feel. 

Today, I was "violated" at the grocery store.  I had to run to Safeway at lunch to get some gift cards for work.  As luck would have it, the ones I wanted were not out on the display.  I went to customer service to see if they had any more.  I told the lady at customer service what I needed and her reply was, "They should be out there." Well, genius, they aren't, I looked.  Apparently my word was not good enough, so she headed off to go check out the display.  While I was waiting for her return, a young girl/woman walked up to me with her little 3 year old son.  She was the picture of youth.  She was wearing some dark gray sweats with big jewels all over the legs, a bright pink sweatshirt with some bold image and her hair was shoved up in a scraggly half ponytail, and if memory serves me correctly, she was wearing slippers.  She sparkled like glitter in the gutter after a parade.  She looked to be about 16, but I suspect she was older because she had produced this small child and, as I would come to learn, she had an 18 month old at home.

Let's call this girl "Gidget."  Gidget asked me where the customer service lady went.  I told her she was looking for something for me. Gidget then told me that she needed change to do laundry because her really sick 18 month at home was really sick and vomiting and had a snotty nose and pooping everywhere so she really needed to do laundry.  I took a step back, clearly this girl was infectious. Gidget continued on about how bad this flu was because the vomiting happened first and then the snotty nose and then it just ran and ran, and then the fever came and isn't it weird how the fever came after?  Didn't I think that was odd?  I just nodded politely and faced the counter.  Gidget didn't stop.  Apparently she had more to tell me about vomit, snot and fever and so continued on about every step of her childs influenza journey.  I had about enough. I was giving off all of my best bitchy/aloof body language.  Gidget was immune.  Where the hell is that customer service lady? Checking for gift cards in the produce department?

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, this other lady comes walking up and pushes Gidget out of the way, she needed to check her Lotto ticket.  Let's call this lady, "Hilda."  Hilda had really short, odd hair that was kind of yellowish greenish and the top was in a pony tail. Honestly, she looked like a Teletubby. Hilda was instantly irritated that the customer service lady wasn't there, she had just broke even and won a dollar and she needed it put on her debit card.  Hilda asks, "Are you two in line? Where is the customer service person?"  Well, Hilda, we are not congregating here for our health, that is for damn sure, I'm probably going to need a flu shot after this.  I explained to Hilda that yes, we were waiting and that she was, in fact, third in line and that customer service lady was helping me. Hilda backed up.

Finally, the customer service lady comes back empty handed and informs me that it appears they are out of the gift cards I need.  Thank goodness she checked for me, I mean, I just wasn't sure if there was any or not SINCE THERE WEREN'T ANY ON THE RACK!!!  Now I need some hand sanitizer, some sort of haz-mat suit and a flu shot thanks to her thorough investigation. 

Now, I know that I, too, over-share at times.  I mean, I do go on about probiotic side-effects, bathroom behavior, nudity and boob placement, but people can stop reading whenever they want.  No one has to read this.  And if you are reading this, you probably know me and know that I will say just about anything. Except sex, Will says I can't talk about that, even though there have been some blog-worthy events in that department.  Nonetheless, I am hardly Carie Bradshaw from Sex in the City, so I spare you all.

Today Gidget went too far and I just want to go on record that I didn't appreciate it. And, her sweats were dumb, who  wears that?  I asked my friend why these things happen to me and she said I just have one of those faces that makes people want to tell me things.  I looked at her with that look that says, "are you for real?" and then she looked back.  I said, "I do not have a face that makes people want to open up.  I've seen my face, that isn't what it is saying."  She agreed and then we both laughed about the absurdity of my alleged friendliness. 

Anyway, just another day in the life of an extrovert.

The women's bathroom, a tragic tale...

I'm sick of crap.  And today, I mean that literally.  And I am not talking about probiotics and the side affects of them.  I'm talking about the women's bathroom at work.  I don't know what happens in there, but apparently, it ranks up there with what happens on the front-line in a war.

Yesterday, I went in to use the bathroom and I notice water all over the floor.  I soon knew why as I pushed open the stall door.  I quickly jumped back and turned my head as if I had just seen a wolverine chewing the ass out of a gimpy gazelle.  It's always the gimpy one that dies, she was probably just gimping along and then BAM! wolverine is eating her ass, but anyway, I digress. My glance into the stall was a brief one, but what I noticed was a ton of toilet paper and evidence that someone had completely cleansed their system of waste.  I don't like to think about these things, but what lead to the circumstance where that girl needed to use enough toilet paper to completely clean up an elephants ass?  My word, the girl probably needed a shower after what I saw.

Today, again, I make my trek in to use the "ladies" room and I open the stall and there is crap all over the side of the seat.  Now, stop right there. What the hell happened?  Was it an explosion of such monumental proportion that she got bucked off the seat?  Was she restless and needed to move around? Was she hovering and lost her balance? Was there not enough toilet paper so she just started rubbing on things?  I don't get it.  Do we need to install handle bars in there and maybe some foot brackets like the ones on skis or snowboards? Maybe seat belts?  I mean, at this point, this could be a safety hazard and I am passionate about safety.  I mean, as employer, are we bound by any sort of law to provide a harness for someone that can't crap in the toilets provided?  It's not really funny if it was, say, a seizure, so maybe we should install some extra precautions.  All I know is, I just needed to pee and one stall was already out of commission due to Polly Poops A Lot and her toilet paper debacle and now I can't use this other stall either.

Look, I know shit happens, but do I have to witness the aftermath?  I've seen cow pastures that were more sanitary and cows just walk and shoot poop out of there butt.  I'm concerned some of my co-workers should just switch right over to Depends because I don't know if they are fully potty trained.  Maybe I should put a note up in the stalls suggesting possible options, like, "if you have used an amount of toilet paper equal to the length of your arms and legs, please flush frequently to avoid back-ups."  Or, "If you think you may get bucked off the toilet, please use the safety belt provided."

And don't even get me started about the other stuff that happens in there, or people that don't wash their hands.  I'm about ready to start using the men's room.  I've heard it is way nicer in there, well, except I heard there is a booger collection on the wall and the janitor is taking a stand and refuses to clean it.  I can't blame her, I mean, my word, the poor girl has to be exhausted after cleaning the women's room.

Anyway, sorry this was so graphic, but when one gets ganged up on by figurative as well as literal shit, well, something's got to give. And, while I applaud all of you that use seat covers, I don't really appreciate it when you leave your butt pressed covers on the seat because you are too precious to touch your own butt scum. Seriously, people, clean up after yourselves, and if that requires a fire hose, well, there is a lever out in the hall you can pull for that to happen.

All I have to say is, if you use the women's restroom:  lather, rinse, repeat.

I don't want to be 40

So, I have been thinking a lot about turning 40 in November. I'm just going to come out and say it, it isn't going to be pretty. I think it is going to hit me hard.  I've been thinking, if I am going to hold on to any sort of youth, I need to fulfill some sort of young people bucket list. 

Let's start with a tattoo. I am thinking a picture of an angry little pony on my ass.  I don't want a tramp stamp on my back or anything on my ankle, so, I think my ass is the best place.  Then again, what if I am a victim of a fire and my face is severely burned and they need to take a skin graph from my ass?  That could be problematic if I had a slightly melted angry pony on my face or neck.  Maybe the tattoo is a bad idea, but tempting.

I guess if I don't get a tattoo, I could get some other part of my body (other than my ears) pierced.  Let's start with something sensible, yet sexy, like my belly button.  I mean, no one sees it, but if I am getting older and trying to relive my youth, I may need to start dressing trampy, so maybe people would see it.  I could put a little string on it and then I could pull it when I get out of the shower and it would drain my belly button.  I might be on to something here.

Now let's talk about my wardrobe.  I'm going to need some sparkly clothes, possibly a short dress or skirt.  And my shirts need to be low-cut.  Let's be real, it will have to be low cut if anyone is going to see anything, that's where the girls are hanging out lately...low.  That reminds me, I'm going to need a boob job.  Maybe Will can finance one for my birthday.  I'll start a fund, maybe add a link on my FB or blog where people can donate to the cause.  I'm going to need some hair extensions and more make-up.  I'm also going to need to have the kind of sex Cosmo talks about.  I need to get Will an appointment at the doctor to make sure he is healthy enough for this type of activity.  I will go ahead and add a few "supplements" into his normal vitamin routine.

I guess I'm not having kids at this ripe old age, so I also need a purse for my little dog to fit in when I go shopping.  Spanky will have to start wearing sweaters.  This will be an adjustment for him, but I can't have him looking ghetto.  Since it's all about image, what about botox?  There is no reason to be wrinkly or let my lips go down the drain. Plus, then there is no pressure to smile because people understand that I can't anyway, or I could say, "I AM smiling!" and they would never know the difference.  I'm also going to need some adventure, like a cruise, and a red convertible car.  Oh, and more diamonds. And a stable boy...I mean, I don't have a swimming pool, so I will need to improvise.

I don't know that any of these things will really make me feel younger, but they sure might distract me. I think it is worth trying my plan before we resort to anything dramatic like counseling, anti-depressants, or God forbid, acceptance that I am middle-aged. Let's not get carried away.

Yes, 40 is going to be tough....I will need to think more on this bucket list....

Love thy neighbor as you would love yourself...

Ever have one of those days where you wake up and look in the mirror and say, "Damn, what happened over night?"  Suddenly my hair looks shorter, but I didn't cut it, so that leaves one possibility, my face got fatter.  It's possible I'm retaining water in my face, but it is also possible I am retaining cellulite in my face...and some new wrinkles...and don't get me started on my right eye that has been watering for a week.  I'm a vision of enchantment for sure.  I'm a little over a month away from turning 40, so my self loathing is on high alert lately. I'm checking for all the signs that I am now officially old....and fatter. 

After coming to terms with the fact that I am one day closer to receiving the AARP pamphlets, I get ready for work and proceed with the day.  I pack left-over homemade chili for lunch, saying a little prayer the probiotics don't freak out over this decision.  I stop for a hot chocolate on the way in, knowing I shouldn't, but since I need to start considering wearing Depends and orthopedic shoes by Dr. Scholls, I figure, why not?

I arrive at work and within moments I just know this day is going to suck. At this point, I don't like to consider it pessimism, I consider it an educated guess.  I'm not psychic, I'm just open to what the universe has to offer, and clearly, today it's offering shit in a shot glass. I had no intention of doing shots today, but I have people, right off the bat sending me emails with words like "URGENT"  or "Must be completed by noon EST."  Do these people realize that piss poor planning on their part does not constitute an emergency on my part?  They may realize it, but they don't care, so I take care of business accordingly.  Then I open my bosses email. A life decision I wish I could take back.  I have been arguing with one of our departments.  I won't say which one to protect the idiots that run it.  I have been telling them I cannot get this one system to work for my boss.  They keep giving me scripted answers.  It's like they aren't even reading my emails.  After calling the "Help" desk and sending numerous emails, I am getting no where.  I was actually pretty snotty in the last email sending them screen shots of what was occurring.  I figured this would settle it.  Finally, they would see what the problem was.  This "Who's on First" Three Stooges routine would finally end.  I opened the response to the email and my mouth dropped open. It was the same scripted answer. My boss and one other manager was standing at my desk.  I stuttered, I stammered, my blood pressure was at an all time high.  I used elaborate hand gestures and the screeching monkey voice.  I dropped the MF bomb.  I looked at my boss and said, "those idiots just made me drop the mother f.... bomb."  I took a deep cleansing breath and calmed down...for about 15 seconds and then went on another tirade.  Then my other boss came up and I explained to him, pointing my finger at him, "I'm telling you right now...if I don't get paid....there will be HELL to pay."  He is a pretty calm guy.  He said, "what do you need me to do? You need me to get involved?"  Do you think asking him to bust some knee caps was going too far? 

Anyway, a variety of other issues came up, most of which I handled.  After all, it was another new hire day.  I do love a day when we start a new class of employees.  Seeing people with hope and a gleam in their eyes.  It's so cute when they are new.  It's always fun for me to see how long it takes for the gleam to dissipate and for reality to set in.  I also like to predict who the problem children will be.  I'm a pretty good guess at this. Oh, and I never tire of hearing people whine about their badge pictures.  One girl almost threw up on my shoe after I had taken two pictures of her, apparently she wasn't feeling well.  I looked at the camera and had to giggle at the two different pictures I had to chose from, but I wasn't getting puked on, so I said, "looks good" and smiled sweetly.  I felt a little bad because she kinda looks like she is jacked up on something, but then I remembered, it wasn't my badge, so what do I care? On a side note, I would also like to say, I don't like it when I talk to people and I don't know what eye to look at because they are all googly and going two different directions.  I'm not saying that happened today, but if it did, I wouldn't have liked it. You know, biblically speaking, I know you should love your neighbor as you love yourself, but if you read my first paragraph again, I think it is pretty clear I am loving my neighbor just like I love myself.  I think this is a biblical loop hole where I may still be able to get into heaven.

Here's hoping tomorrow my hair looks longer again.

Perky people, I don't get it...and I don't want to.

It is safe to say I am not a perky person.  Not in the morning, not at noon and not at night.  As a matter of fact, people have come to depend on my ever present sarcasm and catty demeanor.  It scares people when I try and force perkiness and pretend.  They don't like it.  Nonetheless, people still enjoy saying, "Good Morning, Sunshine!" like it is some sort of game, some sort of poke the bear and run maneuver.  So the question is, why do people "poke the bear?"

Most people I can break.  They try and blow sunshine up my butt and I give them the what for, or grumble at them and eventually, they learn.  They take their perkiness elsewhere.  There is one person I have not been able to break.  To protect the innocent, let's call her Curly Sue.  Curly Sue is cute. She has curly hair, freckles cute perky boobs, cute little waist, little butt....just overall cute. She is just the kind of person I hate.  And she is super perky.  It doesn't matter if she has been yelled at by customers all day, if her cat died, if you kick her in the gut (ok, so I haven't tried this, but seriously considering it), or if it is raining outside.  She walks past my desk every morning with her cute little smile and her sing-song voice saying, "Good Morning, Sunshine!!!" She almost sings it and then giggles as she scampers by.  I shoot her the death glare every morning, she is unaffected.  One time I was on a full on tirade at my desk at someone else and she walked up.  I told her to go away.  She was like, "I know what you mean....blah, blah, blah...." I looked at her and said, "Shut. Up. And, go away."  She giggled.  I looked at the other person I was talking to and they had to say to her, "No, Curly Sue, she is serious....now run...."

What is wrong with perky people?  Do they have some sort of deflector mechanism that prevents them from feeling the affects of darkness and evil?  I mean, what has transpired in that person's life that has caused them this sense of happiness, this sense of joy, this sense that everything is peachy-keen?  I don't get it.  It must be a gene I'm missing.  Have they just had a triple shot mocha?  Have they just had amazing sex the night before, or maybe this morning or both?  Did they win the lotto?  Did they get on the scale to weigh themselves and the scale gave them a round of applause? Did they get a kiss from a puppy and then have bird land on their finger while they sang a brief operetta about a woman who is blissfully happy on a mountain top?  Did they just get touched on the shoulder by God?  What is happening inside these people?  I doubt I'll ever know. I know I have at least one woman praying for me.  She told me so once.  She doesn't say good morning anymore, but she does occasionally stand up and smile at me.  That is a respectful amount of perkiness.  Still uncalled for, but tolerable.

I have one person that passes me at work and says, "I almost saw a smile Cassondra."  "Hey, was that laughter I heard Cassondra?  I heard that!"  Hmpf.  So, let me just tell you what it would take to make me perky, so if you see it, you won't have to wonder too hard. Reason 1- got a new pony. Reason 2 - new diamond (s). Reason 3 - sex afterglow.  Reason 4 - I don't have to go to work. Reason 5 - I never have to go to work again.  Those things pretty much sum it up.

As I left today, I saw Curly Sue's car that was parked next to my truck.  The license plate cover says, and I quote, "SUNSHINE."  I threw up in my mouth a little bit.  That is just going too far.

A Warning about Probiotics....could be TMI

I was at Costco this weekend stocking up on random stuff.  I came across the vitamin section and stopped to look.  I mean, you never know what they will have that will change your life.  A lot of promises out there, more energy, losing weight, better eyesight, better skin, higher sex drive, and the list goes on.  I have been taking some vitamins, but thought maybe a multi-vitamin would be the way to go.  And, as if the Costco gods were shining upon me, there it was, the answer to all my needs.  It was a Triple Probiotic.  It claims to have all the vitamins, minerals and probiotics a person could need.  And, it is a "smart release triple layer" pill.  That's right, it knows what to release, and to where.  It's genius really.  Now, I don't really have major stomach problems, but what could be healthier than a probiotic? Even though I don't have a problem now, isn't taking care of your colon a good idea for the future?  Are you on board yet?  Let's be healthy!

I read the box and purchased this little miracle in pill form. Seems like a no-brainer, just take it once a day with a glass of water, preferably with food.  No side effects mentioned.  It's a vitamin, after all.  I took it Monday morning with my protein shake, life was good....for about an hour.  I started to feel kinda yucky.  Weird.  By lunch time, nothing really sounded good.  My stomach was making all sorts of gurgly noises and I thought, wow, what did I get into?  I don't mean to over share here, but I had a sense of urgency to get to the ladies room.  What transpired cannot and will not be discussed.  I was hoping this would pass.  I had a sandwich for lunch and still felt kinda yucky.  My boss came over to talk to me and I had to pretend I wasn't hearing all the noise from down under.  It sounded like a fat kid at Wild Waves coming down the turbo slide with a few of his best friends, like a freight train, like Jacques Cousteau on a deep sea adventure.  I just pretended it wasn't happening.  Pretending that I wasn't about to crap my pants. I didn't want to blame this on the probiotics, surely it was a coincidence.

Today, took my pill again and sat at my desk feeling yucky again.  My friend came up and started talking to me. I told her about the probiotics and wondered if that was it.  She started laughing and said, "oh yeah, my boyfriend took those and for two weeks, it was BAD."  I said, well, all I have had is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and this trail mix and I feel horrible.  She then informed me that nuts was the absolute wrong thing to be eating in this situation.  I didn't get the memo about nuts making you crap your pants.  No one ever told me.  I did, however, put them away.

I came home tonight and read the box again.  No where on this box does it say it's going to be a Disneyland water park in your intestines, no where does it say you will crap your pants at your desk if you eat nuts.  I'm actually pretty mad.  I just want healthy guts and that is what the box says I'll get.  I didn't realize I had to go through some sort of vitamin hazing ritual.  It just says if taken daily it helps maintain wellness and vitality.  Well, all I have to say is you better be well and vital enough to move and move fast.  Maybe the B12 helps your energy level while you run to the can.

I guess this is all TMI, but I say this to you as a friend, just go with some sort of Flinstone chewables. Fred and Wilma never caused this kind of grief.