Good Times Never Seemed So Good

Hey-o! Contrary to what you may believe, I was not kidnapped by a gang of Asian grandmothers at the Goodwill (though one of them did nearly mow me down during my last trip). Nor did I put this blog out of its misery with a swift kick to its crooked, emo teeth [Note: my computer didn’t know the word “emo” just now… curious]. I’m still here, and I still expect you guys to put up with my inane ramblings. Please stay seated while the ride is in motion, because nobody wants this to happen:

A concise list of things likely to distract one from lengthy blogging:

            1. A fulltime job

            2. Rugby mob

            3. Copious amounts of alcohol

            4. Homework? No… Tumblr!!

So there you have it. My life in a nutshell.

Let me digress. I’d like to state for the record that my co-workers could be an entire post in and of themselves. Seriously, Pepper (the clinic cat) may be the only sane one in that building on a daily basis. But mon Dieu! They put on a hell of a show. Apparently tensions have been escalating for awhile now, and I arrived just in time for the excitement. Last Tuesday we had a work meeting, which essentially means “free lunch” when you’re the clueless new kid. About 5 minutes before we depart for said meeting, my boss pulls me aside to give me the rundown. Here’s an approximation of what I heard:

“Lalala, you get to eat free Thai food in about five minutes, oh yeah, something about hurt feelings… Blah blah… hired a professional facilitator.”

Wait, what? Yes. Apparently things have spiraled so far out of control that seven grown ass women have to hire an eighth grown ass woman to act as conversational mediator. Don’t worry, guys. She’s a professional.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

I rode over to the restaurant with my fellow receptionists in our wickedly awesome (not to mention flattering) floral jungle-print scrub tops. I would try to track down a picture for you, but honestly I’m too ashamed. Just Google “floral jungle-print scrubs” and you’ll get a pretty good idea of how I look as a professional. Everyone was nervous laughter and manic chatter. Except for me. I was stoically hungry and deciding what to order on the company’s dollar.

Have you ever tried to eat a hearty Thai meal at a table full of crying women? I have. Let me tell you, every single time your spoon scrapes a little too loudly, or you drop one little sweet chili sauce bottle, approximately eight sets of weepy eyes will attempt to telepathically eviscerate you. You call that telepathic? More like telepathetic. I can boil this entire work meeting down into the single sentence I derived any meaning from:

Facilitator: You can’t just go around fingering anyone else, unless you want to finger yourself first!

All joking aside, I landed a pretty awesome job. And I got my first paycheck! I felt a lot like this:

http://www.instructables.com

Realistically, it covered rent and utilities. When ULOL first offered me a room in this house, I told her if necessary I’d sell my body to afford it. Well friends and family, that day has arrived. I’ve started selling my body twice a week on the corner of Holgate and 80^th… I’m talking plasma. Creeps. My first visit took approximately 5 hours. Lucy, I had to watch The Blindside on a loop 2.5 times. During my wait, I came to the conclusion that plasma donation is a really twisted operation. Think about it, you guys. The lower- and working- class population literally selling their blood to pay the bills? Operating under the guise of offering a valuable service to the health services? It’s sick. I try not to think about it too hard or long, because I left that place with $30 in my pocket and I plan on going back tomorrow, to “improve the quality of life for thousands of people”.

That lovable bunch of rugby weirdos known as the Betterside played here this weekend! 

In all their glory... granted this is an old picture,
but would you please take a second to look at the Backline?

The sun came out long enough to scorch all the tender gingers; rugby was played, beers consumed and old stories rehashed for new audiences. The girls got to sleep in our “loft”, which is really just an open, drafty room with hardwood floors. Let me tell you, nobody puts the Fancy into Fancy Pants quite like the Betterside. I have never seen so many animal prints, mom-butts and sequins in one place. Absolutely glorious. Also, ULOL forcibly made us eat 20 tacos at 1am. Thanks for dinner, ULOL.

All in all, I’ma chalk this one off as a success. There’s more to tell, of course. There’s always more. Like contemplating the mechanics of whale sex with The Bear, or rehashing the story of the Behemoth with BGC. E’s trip to the zoo, and my first feeble post-op bike riding. Happy Hour at the Observatory, Walmart game, killing the Biscuit. Goddamn, I wish I could carry you guys in my pocket, and commentate my life as it unfolded. But for tonight this will have to be enough, and I bid you fond adieu.

Still loving you.

-b