In which our heroine is proposition in the most curious of ways

This was a while back, but I didn't realize I hadn't blogged it. Here we go:

One of Asimovian and my friends was in town and wanted to go to a club. There is a Friday-night-only club that several friends like to go to, and it was decided that this was the club we would be patronizing, even though we'd never been. This club is... I guess you might consider it a saucy kind of club. Free spankings on stage and all that. However, being freaky is only encouraged, not required, so we fit in just fine. I spent a lot of the evening hanging out with Space Kitty.

Now, I have to take a second to explain a couple of things here. First off, our heroine is not particularly a looker. I mean, everyone who gets to know me totally wants me, of course, but people aren't stopping me on the street to ask my phone number, if you know what I mean. Space Kitty, on the other hand, is adorable as hell and was dressed particularly saucily. And was very drunk. Very, very drunk.

So back to the dance floor. Several of us were shakin' our respective thangs. This creepy guy had been following Space Kitty around (cute + drunk = creepy guy magnet) and he was just STANDING on the dance floor STARING at Space Kitty, looking her up and down, repeatedly. So, I maneuvered myself between Creepy Guy and Space Kitty and turned my back to the guy. So, a few moments later, little creepy guy came up behind me, put his hands on my shoulders (yick), leaned into my ear (double-yick), and said,

Creepy Guy: Hey, wanna come back to my place? I have bagels and salmon.
Me: WHA?
CG: You wanna come over? I have bagels and salmon.
Me: Uh, no. I'm married.
CG: Wha?
Me: Married. ::points at her wedding ring, then points at her visibly upset husband::
CG: Huh?
Me: ::points at wedding ring, then her husband, then waves bye-bye::

I mean, I do look like a gal who enjoys herself some tasty breakfast snacks, but first off, does he not even know what it's called lox? Secondly, EW! Thirdly, don't piss off the black man who has 6 inches and 100 pounds on your scrawny ass.

Truth be told, it was more pathetic than anything and hey, I got a funny story out of it. The most amusing bit is that we're going back to the same club on Friday. I guess I'll bring my appetite in case he offers again. 'Cause who am I to turn down bagels and salmon?

In which our heroine discovers that she's rather predictable...

Christmas always brings out the best and worst in people. In me, it usually brings out the weird, which is to say, it brings out the best AND the worst in me. I have an odd sense of humor, and not everyone gets it. However, one of our programmers at work totally gets my sense of the absurd. He's also a long-time vegetarian. So, when I was in the $1 bin area of our local Red Dot Boutique (that would be Target), and I spied a "Meat Playset," I knew I had to get it for him. It's a little basket with a pork chop, a steak, a hot dot, a hamburger, and other plastic facsimiles of dead animals. C'mon, it's perfect for the vegetarian programmer in your life.

Anyhow, I wrapped it up in very generic paper, and left it on his chair this morning. I disguised my writing and simply wrote that it was from "Santa." A few hours later, a certain programmer dropped by my office and it went a little something like this:

Veggie Programmer: You got me the meat playset, didn't you?
Me: Wha?
VP: Yeah, someone left it on my desk this morning, and I'm sure it's you?
Me: No, I had David in the gift exchange. I didn't get this... what was it? Meat? for you.
VP: Well, this is the first place I stopped by because I was sure YOU bought it.
Me: So someone buys you meat, and I'm the FIRST person you think of.
VP: Well, it said it was for ages 4 and up...
Me: Haha. Alright, yeah it was me.

Yep, I was the first person he thought of. I'm getting predictable in my old age. And kudos to VP for engaging me in the most surreal conversation I've had all year.

In which our heroine terrorizes the local supermarket patrons

Thanksgiving is this Thursday. You may commence to sobbing. I, however, decided to be a grown-up about it, so I wiped away my tears and made a shopping list in preparation for my Fakesgiving celebration (that would be making a big dinner on Friday instead of Thursday). I called my sister to ask her something and we ended up deciding to go grocery shopping together. We used to do it more often, but she lives a couple of towns over now, so it's no longer convenient. However, this is a special occasion, so we figured we'd get it done together and spend some quality time (gack!) together.

So, we're moseying around the supermarket. My sister, Jo, has her infant daughter (Babyzilla) in the shopping cart and my 11-year-old nephew, Bottomless Pit (that's BP to his friends), is helping us shop. Well, let me back up. We weren't moseying. We were on a mission. It may have looked like moseying to the untrained eye, but we're hard-core bargain hunters. We were moseying like a motherfucker up in there.

Seeing as how we're both cooking much of the same food, we needed many of the same ingredients. If Jo grabbed olives, she would ask me if I needed a can while she was at it and vice versa. She'd then have BP grab an extra can and put it in my basket. After a while, Babyzilla got a bit impatient with our shopping, so Jo started carrying her while BP pushed the cart. We were in the dairy aisle, and I found that butter was on sale. I checked with Jo that she needed a pound of salted butter, then grabbed it and dumped it in the cart BP was pushing while saying, "Here ya go, kid."

Then BP said, "Uhhh, Aunt Jakey?" I look up and realize that I've put the butter in the wrong kid's cart. There was some random kid passing by, and I stopped him, told him, "Here ya go, kid," then put butter in his cart. The poor random kid was about 10, and looked appalled and confused. I said, "Uh, oops. Sorry. I thought you were my nephew," and took back the butter.

When I saw poor random kid with his mom, I told her that I was sorry I terrorized her kid and tried to put butter in his cart. A random lady passing by laughed and said, "Been there, done that." That was the best time I've had in the supermarket EVER. I'm finding random people and putting stuff in their cart from here on out.

Oh, and the best part: we were shopping at a store that tells you how much money you've saved. Turns out my sister, who taught me my bargain-hunting ways got a 27% discount, and I got a 34% discount. That's right, the student has surpassed the teacher. HA!

In which our heroine tries to determine whether she is being insulted or complimented

So, my boss came into my office this morning, and I reminded him that I have a class meeting tomorrow, so I'd be leaving work about 30 minutes early. I asked if I could come in early to make up the time, and he said yes. He then went on to tell me that my education was valuable to the company, and that he would always be accomodating. I told him that I was only working on my general education courses right now, so these classes don't have a direct impact, but thank you very much. He paused, then told me I should be a lawyer. I'm not sure it was in response to what I said or not, and I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted! I think I'll go ahead and choose to be complimented, but I'll reserve the right to feel insulted later.

In which our heroine talks about stuffing her bra for the first time

About a week ago, I went to work like normally and was just sitting at my desk when all of a sudden, I noticed that my bra was poking me in a supurbly uncomfortable way. It didn't feel like a normal kind of thing, so I decided to go into the bathroom to inspect further.

In the bathroom, I discovered that my unerwire had taken this exact moment to break. Now, I've had underwires that decided that they weren't happy with the confines of the bra, but in this case, the metal literally had snapped in half, and the sharp edges were what was poking me. Damn, damn, damn. So, my first thought was to just take out the underwire and not worry about it. Problem: The underwire on the OTHER side was just fine, so the twins wouldn't be identical twins any longer. I was at work and there's NO WAY I was just going to take my bra off because I can't type with my arms crossed against my chest. I figured that I would walk back to my desk and pick up a pair of scissors so I could cut out the underwire on the other side, and then I would be just fine. However, when I took a step, the bra jabbed the hell out of me again, and I decided that I didn't want to take that uncomfortable walk, no matter how short.

So, I took a few squares of toilet paper, folded them over a couple of times, and stuck them between the bra and my skin. Ahhh, relief. I went back to my desk to get the scissors, but figured that this was working so well that I'd just see how it lasted through the day. Surprisingly, it was perfect the rest of the day, and I went home unscathed.

This, my friends, is the very first time I had to stuff my bra with toilet paper. I'm declaring this a Tale of Triumph because I fought the underwire, and I fucking won. We have to take our victories when we can!

In which our heroine gets a root canal and some bad news

I had a root canal today. I have never had any dental work before. I mean, I've had braces, and I've had teeth removed, but I've never had my teeth drilled. I really wasn't sure what to expect. Well, I mean, people kept saying, "You need a root canal? Oh, I'm SO sorry!" However, the people I spoke with who had actually had one told me that it wasn't such a big deal. So, I figured that the sound of the drill might bother me, but I figured that I would have local anesthetic so at worst, it would just be uncomfortable.

So, I'm happy to announce that I made it through just fine. It took a very, very long time, and the anaesthetic wore off at the end, but I'm hard-core (ha!) and just had them finish up instead of getting another shot and waiting for it to take effect. By the time I left, I was hurting pretty bad, but so far I'm doing okay. The drilling was totally no big deal. I'm sure I'll be hurting more later, but for now, I'm rather pleased with myself. Here's to being a responsible adult and getting my teeth taken care of.

The bad news? I knew that I would have to go in later to get the permanent crown, but unfortunately my dentist wants to let my tooth heal for at least a MONTH before I can go in to get even a temporary crown. So, I still can't chew on that side of my mouth for another month. To make it worse? I need another root canal on the exact same tooth the other side, so unless I reschedule my appointment, there would be almost 3 weeks when I couldn't really chew at all. Yeah, that sounds just fan-damn-tastic. I think I'll reschedule the next root canal until I get the crown. Sometimes being an adult and taking care of business sucks.