So there I was... surrounded by sick children. It's winter into spring (but mainly winter in sunny Florida) and kids noses are going to run, when I notice something a little disturbing (besides them eating their buggars)... I can't stand runny noses. I don't mean the whole "man, I'm wiping my nose every three seconds, this sucks" thing. I mean, I look at a kid and if it is runny, I NEED to wipe it off. Bad.
More than a habit, I just hate the look.: A slick clear/yellow/green wetness on the upper lip slowly making its way into the mouth of the child. (I mean, doesn't that make you cringe?)
Not only that, but then if they are unaware, they wipe it and then there it is: this stain like a battle scar across their face as they wage war on the playground.
But EVEN WORSE, when there is a buggar that is a heinous green/goldish color hanging barely out of the nose and the child DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO BLOW OUT!!! And no, in case you were wondering, I am not too above myself to sit there and help them dig it out with a tissue just so I don't have to stare at it... really. I mean, I can deal with poop, pee, excessive baby spit (though luckily I have a rag for that), and vomit (not proud of that one, but I deal) but buggars.... bogeys, snot, moco... nope... sorry even I have limits.
Which makes my next statement strange.
I love popping pimples. Like obsessively. I don't know where the habit came from (though my older sister swears it began with her back acne (don't judge, she lived in miami, played sports, and was blessed with a mix of BOTH my parent's worst pimple genetics). I don't know, I just know when I see one ready to pop... I focus in like a meerkat at dusk. (I don't know if they really focus on anything but I'm pretty sure that's what I look like.)
It's more than just a habit, it's almost a compulsion. I have scarred up my arms pretty bad because of my constant picking *just in case*. I attack my boyfriend's arms, back, neck... ANYTHING that looks like it is festering for a head or ingrown hair that I can defeat. Yes, defeat - this is war and I will conquer.
Me: Who's your daddy?
Pimple: YOU ARE.
Me: That's right, now feel the fingers of destruction!
And then I will of course pull out my sword and do battle.
Now, I won't pop a stranger's pimple, but I will stare and my jaw will clench. Seriously. I'll even imagine popping it or I'll force myself to look away and then look at my own arms to see if there is any pimple-like bump that needs owning.
I found this out because one of my little girls at the day care center had a bug bite and a really bad reaction... At first it looked just like a small bite, then it got this small head but then became MASSIVE....(yes it was infected, no I didn't pop it.... but I wanted to... badly.) I noticed then my habit of clenching my jaw to prevent from squeezing that head of puss to death. It's gross... I KNOW THIS... but... so satisfying.
It's not an exhilarated feeling like finishing a race, or a rush like winning a bet... it's more like the feeling you get when you finish a math problem. You'll do the dirty work but once you get the answer, you know it and you move on to bigger and better things.
So things don't get out of hand here, I don't surf the net to find such disgusting albeit satisfying pimple popping sessions. I did have one sent to me, and I learned my lesson after that. The video was of this guy with this huge cancerous looking bump on his back getting it popped. It was seemingly endless.... HUGE. I watched the WHOLE video. I'm sad to say, I wasn't disgusted... nope... I was jealous.
Hi, My name is Athena, and I'm an addict.
1) Wedding blogs
2) wiping noses
3) popping pimples.... oh my.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Worst.Week.Ever.
So there I was... surrounded... by an sorrowful heart and empty soul.
Monday:
I couldn't sleep because I had no phone and God knows that I would get a job call the next day.... so I went to Wal-mart to get my rebound phone. Yes, people, I was there before the manager at 6:45 AM... apparently they don't open up THAT shop till 7 AM... whatever, I got my cheap $15 phone and dealt with my issues.
So I go home and continue on my normal day with strangely uncomfortable phone, trying to make this blind date last... (seriously, never worked so hard in my life.) Well, I DID get that phone call!!!
You: What?
Me: Yeah!
You: WHAT?
Me: Yeah... and it was a good job too.
This lady was from a recruiting firm, we clicked immediately. I got the main information down, and thankfully, it was something I've done before and I WAS GOOD AT!!!! YAY!!!
I go to work with a smile and slight skip in my step if I do say so.. EXCITED! Called my bf, told my sister... started paperwork (which if you know me, excites me as well.)
Tuesday: Get up, go to work. I'm gonna be productive. I'm going to run errands on my lunch break. One of them including waxing... yes, I have prior post on waxing.... but let's be honest, do you really care? OF COURSE YOU DO, YOU ARE READING MY BLOG!!! Anyway, this was bad. I mean, the lady that waxes looked at my armpits and I could SEE her mind wandering:
"This chick has let this go... WAY to far"
Well, let's be straight forward.. they were heinous, I knew it HENCE the waxing. The problem was, the ladies face kept telling me this is worse than I thought. SHE FUCKING WAXES FOR A LIVING!! It can't be that bad...
oh yes.
it was.
She looked at me every time she pulled with this face like she was Simon Cowell dealing with terrible singers. It wasn't until I looked at my armpits that I noticed that it was bleeding that it was THAT bad.
Armpits: Hey guys, I think she's trying to get rid of you.
Hairs: No way, we've been around for awhile.
Armpits: I know, that's my point.
Hairs: Well, we bonded, and hair is thicker when its shaved....
Uh, yeah it is.
Well, I was like, that's the worst of my day... nope. I check my messages, and that AMAZING job (did I mention it paid well?) was given a "hold on hiring" before she got to put my name in... thanks God. You're funny.
did I mention I started my period? right. going on.
Wednesday:
Because I was let down, I wasn't going to let it destroy the rest of the week... until I woke up. I freakin turned into Cinderella and started having my mice make me coffee, do my hair... it looked freakin fine.
AND THEN I WOKE UP. Late.
I start to rush to work. I get everything done in like 5 minutes, except my shoes. So I race down the stairs... RACE.... down the stairs.... I FUCKING TRIP. Down the stairs. I slid like 4-5 steps.
1) Start falling
2) Do nothing but fall
3) Realize I'm falling and put my arms down.
4) Hit my phone that is on my ass, and give myself a big ass bruise (yes.)
5) Slam my elbow on the next three steps
6) Charlie-horse my neck trying to keep myself from skidding on my elbows.
7) Hit the ground in front of my shoes
8) sit there.
I sit there with my ass of shame, my elbow skinless and my shoes taunting me that I'm late. Assholes. So what do I do?
I put on my shoes - I'm late.
My bro-in-law opens the door TWO Seconds later and didn't hear a damn thing, and was like, "what are you doing on the floor"
Fuck you dude...
Thursday:
I start on applying to jobs again. AND for the record - if it is PREFERRED it is not mandatory... don't make me jump through hoops just to find out that your supplemental questionnaire has PREFERRED AS MANDATORY.... That's just being an assholish guys. Seriously. Do that shit first, don't waste my time and yours on repeating EVERYTHING on my resume TWICE just to find out that it REALLY doesn't matter...
I digress. So i'm applying for jobs again... I'm stoked, pumping myself up so that I can write another cover letter, and I'm typing typing typing typing... reach for my resume folder...
*splat* COFFEE ALL OVER the table, my computer, and on one of my sister's WHITE chair covers.... I know I'm going to get killed if it gets on her carpet and the rest of the chair covers so I do what any sane person with a healthy fear of their younger sister would do:
I take off my sweatpants and protect my sister's seat covers by making a coffee barrier on the table.
I stand there in my underwear and coffee shame, realizing how crappy my week was, and how this was the epitome of sad, pathetic Theen and her little dog too...
WAIT!!!!!
Side story:
NOW SHE HAD A CRAPPY WEEK LAST WEEK.
So I took her to the vet to get her teeth cleaned. First time, we're both nervous. Apparently, the dog needs to be put to sleep a little before they start putting their hands in their mouths. Go figure.
Anyway, I come back to pick her up and the vet tech was like: It's not as bad as it looks.
Now I'm like:
1) This bitch is going to get it
2) My poor baby!!!
I took the #2 approach. SOOOO... the vet tech had trouble putting her "line" in her leg because her veins were too small... so the vet had to try putting it in her other leg and the VEINS busted. She has a HUGE bruise on her poor front leg... SO they had to finally put it in her back leg and she was fine. The bruise looked horrible...
But, let me mention that I gave my little pup a hair cut on the top of her head because she has an ADORABLE face... well she moved and it looked like I gave her a reverse mohawk. Poor thing had a bald head with big poofy ears... aw well...
No. NOW she has that stupid hair cut but NOW has THREE legs shaved. THREE NOT FOUR. THREE. With a freakin bald spot. She's furry. she looks like a true-to-God-SHEEP.
Return to story:
So I'm standing there in my shame with no pants, a coffee filled table held only by the barrier of my pants and look at my dog... the now Sheep looking dog.
Ok THAT'S when I realized:
worst.week.ever.
Monday:
I couldn't sleep because I had no phone and God knows that I would get a job call the next day.... so I went to Wal-mart to get my rebound phone. Yes, people, I was there before the manager at 6:45 AM... apparently they don't open up THAT shop till 7 AM... whatever, I got my cheap $15 phone and dealt with my issues.
So I go home and continue on my normal day with strangely uncomfortable phone, trying to make this blind date last... (seriously, never worked so hard in my life.) Well, I DID get that phone call!!!
You: What?
Me: Yeah!
You: WHAT?
Me: Yeah... and it was a good job too.
This lady was from a recruiting firm, we clicked immediately. I got the main information down, and thankfully, it was something I've done before and I WAS GOOD AT!!!! YAY!!!
I go to work with a smile and slight skip in my step if I do say so.. EXCITED! Called my bf, told my sister... started paperwork (which if you know me, excites me as well.)
Tuesday: Get up, go to work. I'm gonna be productive. I'm going to run errands on my lunch break. One of them including waxing... yes, I have prior post on waxing.... but let's be honest, do you really care? OF COURSE YOU DO, YOU ARE READING MY BLOG!!! Anyway, this was bad. I mean, the lady that waxes looked at my armpits and I could SEE her mind wandering:
"This chick has let this go... WAY to far"
Well, let's be straight forward.. they were heinous, I knew it HENCE the waxing. The problem was, the ladies face kept telling me this is worse than I thought. SHE FUCKING WAXES FOR A LIVING!! It can't be that bad...
oh yes.
it was.
She looked at me every time she pulled with this face like she was Simon Cowell dealing with terrible singers. It wasn't until I looked at my armpits that I noticed that it was bleeding that it was THAT bad.
Armpits: Hey guys, I think she's trying to get rid of you.
Hairs: No way, we've been around for awhile.
Armpits: I know, that's my point.
Hairs: Well, we bonded, and hair is thicker when its shaved....
Uh, yeah it is.
Well, I was like, that's the worst of my day... nope. I check my messages, and that AMAZING job (did I mention it paid well?) was given a "hold on hiring" before she got to put my name in... thanks God. You're funny.
did I mention I started my period? right. going on.
Wednesday:
Because I was let down, I wasn't going to let it destroy the rest of the week... until I woke up. I freakin turned into Cinderella and started having my mice make me coffee, do my hair... it looked freakin fine.
AND THEN I WOKE UP. Late.
I start to rush to work. I get everything done in like 5 minutes, except my shoes. So I race down the stairs... RACE.... down the stairs.... I FUCKING TRIP. Down the stairs. I slid like 4-5 steps.
1) Start falling
2) Do nothing but fall
3) Realize I'm falling and put my arms down.
4) Hit my phone that is on my ass, and give myself a big ass bruise (yes.)
5) Slam my elbow on the next three steps
6) Charlie-horse my neck trying to keep myself from skidding on my elbows.
7) Hit the ground in front of my shoes
8) sit there.
I sit there with my ass of shame, my elbow skinless and my shoes taunting me that I'm late. Assholes. So what do I do?
I put on my shoes - I'm late.
My bro-in-law opens the door TWO Seconds later and didn't hear a damn thing, and was like, "what are you doing on the floor"
Fuck you dude...
Thursday:
I start on applying to jobs again. AND for the record - if it is PREFERRED it is not mandatory... don't make me jump through hoops just to find out that your supplemental questionnaire has PREFERRED AS MANDATORY.... That's just being an assholish guys. Seriously. Do that shit first, don't waste my time and yours on repeating EVERYTHING on my resume TWICE just to find out that it REALLY doesn't matter...
I digress. So i'm applying for jobs again... I'm stoked, pumping myself up so that I can write another cover letter, and I'm typing typing typing typing... reach for my resume folder...
*splat* COFFEE ALL OVER the table, my computer, and on one of my sister's WHITE chair covers.... I know I'm going to get killed if it gets on her carpet and the rest of the chair covers so I do what any sane person with a healthy fear of their younger sister would do:
I take off my sweatpants and protect my sister's seat covers by making a coffee barrier on the table.
I stand there in my underwear and coffee shame, realizing how crappy my week was, and how this was the epitome of sad, pathetic Theen and her little dog too...
WAIT!!!!!
Side story:
NOW SHE HAD A CRAPPY WEEK LAST WEEK.
So I took her to the vet to get her teeth cleaned. First time, we're both nervous. Apparently, the dog needs to be put to sleep a little before they start putting their hands in their mouths. Go figure.
Anyway, I come back to pick her up and the vet tech was like: It's not as bad as it looks.
Now I'm like:
1) This bitch is going to get it
2) My poor baby!!!
I took the #2 approach. SOOOO... the vet tech had trouble putting her "line" in her leg because her veins were too small... so the vet had to try putting it in her other leg and the VEINS busted. She has a HUGE bruise on her poor front leg... SO they had to finally put it in her back leg and she was fine. The bruise looked horrible...
But, let me mention that I gave my little pup a hair cut on the top of her head because she has an ADORABLE face... well she moved and it looked like I gave her a reverse mohawk. Poor thing had a bald head with big poofy ears... aw well...
No. NOW she has that stupid hair cut but NOW has THREE legs shaved. THREE NOT FOUR. THREE. With a freakin bald spot. She's furry. she looks like a true-to-God-SHEEP.
Return to story:
So I'm standing there in my shame with no pants, a coffee filled table held only by the barrier of my pants and look at my dog... the now Sheep looking dog.
Ok THAT'S when I realized:
worst.week.ever.
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