I was just reading over my last post and trying to figure out how I could ever get Jack to not hold that over my head for the rest. of. my. life. Then it occurred to me that Jack recently did something that wasn't maybe the smartest. In fact it was dumb, and awesome at the same time! That is not his opinion, but since mine is more important, we're calling it hilarious! So in light of my confession of brainlessness I think it fair to share one such moment in Jack's life.
About a month ago, a guy that works with Jack brought over his weed eater for us to borrow. For some reason we have this patch of grass in our back yard that is a mere 2x8 ft and at the time was thigh high. With him he brought his dog, a Mastiff. If you have never seen a Mastiff, then if you can only imagine a dog large enough to saddle and make my larger than average husky look like a girlie man! In fact, Uncle Neal and I were joking on the phone before they showed up that a dog that size probably craps something that looks like a pile of beer cans!
So when he showed up we spent some time B.S.'ing and told him about the crap analogy while the big guy lumbered about the back yard. As soon as he left Jack got busy with the weed eater and before too long I heard it turn off and Jack saying, "Honey, will you please be a good wife, not ask any questions, and start me a shower?"
Good wife? Whaaa? I could tell by the sweet tone that something good was up. Good wife my ass. I opened the door to see what was up, and immediately figured out what happened!
Apparently the big dog had confirmed our crap theory and deposited the equivalent of a pile of beer cans for my unsuspecting husband to nail with the weed eater!!! So if the title made no sense before then just imagine Jack covered head to toe with little poop splatters! Fortunately he had his sun glasses on because they too were speckled with lovely poopy polka-dots! I'm not really sure if that was more fun for me, or watching him try and pull his shirt over his head while gagging over the stench!
Uncle Neal dubbed him "Freckles" and I think it may stick. Literally!!!! Hahahahahahahohohohohehehehe!!!! I crack me up!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
One of THOSE Days!!!!
I had one of THOSE days. One of those days that you laugh so that you don't cry, though Jack said I should be crying, crying because I am so stupid. This may sound harsh, but those that know Jack probably aren't surprised, and after you hear what he's talking about you may agree with him.
So I've been looking into getting some little part-time job in the evenings to make extra money for the holidays and get out and meet people in my new town. Sounds easy, and when I discovered this wonderful bookstore/music store/movie store, and started spending at least an hour a night rummaging through stuff, I thought that I should just get a job there so that I could get paid for hanging out. Seemed simple enough, and after a long application and a long interview, I was asked to go ahead and take a simple drug test. I was pretty happy because this meant that if they wanted to pay for a test to make sure I wasn't some junkie that I likely had a job!
Drug tests are funny things. Well, not really. Not at all in fact, but I am still laughing over mine. Not because the procedure is funny. Nope, not funny. But my personal drug test caused much laughter for those I told about it, and well, probably every person that worked at the lab and everyone they told afterwards about the IDIOT that they had come in. So here's my confession... My name is Amber and I'm an IDIOT. I am hoping to jump on the smart wagon though, and hold on for dear life!
The morning of the test I took the older girls to school and knowing that they probably wouldn't let me take Punkin with me to go pee in a cup, I went to Jack's work and had him take me so that he could watch her while I ran in real quick. So "real quick" turned out to be waaaay too optimistic and I had to wait an hour and a half. By the time the guy called me back my bladder was ready to explode and I wanted to vomit. I only half listened to the guy explaining the procedure because I was focused. Focused on peeing and getting the heck out of there! So goes the fall. He had me wash my hands while he checked the room for hidden urine samples, put the cup on the back of the toilet, and explained that I had four minutes and that I was not to flush or wash my hands afterwards. I practically shoved him out the door so that I could just go already. And go I did. I open the door without having flushed or washed, and he came in, picked up the cup, and says, "You didn't pee in the cup."
No, no I hadn't. I'm not sure why I didn't even now. Maybe I was thinking he would scoop it out of the toilet? Not sure, but while I repeated the "eff" word several times, I tried to hold back the leg slapping, tears streaming out of your eyes, hysterical laugh. I only sort of succeeded because occasionally a small outburst would escape. Had I ever felt stupider? Maybe, but nothing solid comes to memory on that one.
The sad tale does not end there because Mr. I Think You Are A Junkie No Sense Of Humor, said that I was welcome to go back to the waiting room, drink lots of water and then try again when I was ready. Fine, so I drank water until I was going to puke and then when I thought I could pee a little, I flagged him down. This time I wasn't going to screw it up. I went in the bathroom, concentrated REAL hard and managed to put out some urine in the cup this time. I open the door, he grabs the cup and says, "This isn't enough."
"I'm sorry, Mr I Think You Are A Junkie No Sense of Humor, but what do you mean? You didn't tell me there was a urine quota! What the heck am I supposed to do about that????"
Not willing to guzzle any more water, and judging from the hostile, disbelieving text messages I was getting from Jack, I figured my time there had ended. I was stressing about what to do, and he told me to call the employer and see if I could get another set of paperwork so that I could try again another day.
"Why? So they can tell me I'm too stupid to hire???" How was I going to make that phone call? I went home and paced around wondering what I was going to tell them. Finally, I just called and made some vague excuse about screwing up their strict procedures at the clinic, and much to my relief they were really cool and told me they'd get the paperwork in order for me again.
Whew, disaster averted, job still possible. I went in yesterday and managed to get it right the first time! Third time is a charm and all that crap.... So now I will have to make sure that I act extra smart so that my husband forgets about this mere lapse in intelligence. As if...
So I've been looking into getting some little part-time job in the evenings to make extra money for the holidays and get out and meet people in my new town. Sounds easy, and when I discovered this wonderful bookstore/music store/movie store, and started spending at least an hour a night rummaging through stuff, I thought that I should just get a job there so that I could get paid for hanging out. Seemed simple enough, and after a long application and a long interview, I was asked to go ahead and take a simple drug test. I was pretty happy because this meant that if they wanted to pay for a test to make sure I wasn't some junkie that I likely had a job!
Drug tests are funny things. Well, not really. Not at all in fact, but I am still laughing over mine. Not because the procedure is funny. Nope, not funny. But my personal drug test caused much laughter for those I told about it, and well, probably every person that worked at the lab and everyone they told afterwards about the IDIOT that they had come in. So here's my confession... My name is Amber and I'm an IDIOT. I am hoping to jump on the smart wagon though, and hold on for dear life!
The morning of the test I took the older girls to school and knowing that they probably wouldn't let me take Punkin with me to go pee in a cup, I went to Jack's work and had him take me so that he could watch her while I ran in real quick. So "real quick" turned out to be waaaay too optimistic and I had to wait an hour and a half. By the time the guy called me back my bladder was ready to explode and I wanted to vomit. I only half listened to the guy explaining the procedure because I was focused. Focused on peeing and getting the heck out of there! So goes the fall. He had me wash my hands while he checked the room for hidden urine samples, put the cup on the back of the toilet, and explained that I had four minutes and that I was not to flush or wash my hands afterwards. I practically shoved him out the door so that I could just go already. And go I did. I open the door without having flushed or washed, and he came in, picked up the cup, and says, "You didn't pee in the cup."
No, no I hadn't. I'm not sure why I didn't even now. Maybe I was thinking he would scoop it out of the toilet? Not sure, but while I repeated the "eff" word several times, I tried to hold back the leg slapping, tears streaming out of your eyes, hysterical laugh. I only sort of succeeded because occasionally a small outburst would escape. Had I ever felt stupider? Maybe, but nothing solid comes to memory on that one.
The sad tale does not end there because Mr. I Think You Are A Junkie No Sense Of Humor, said that I was welcome to go back to the waiting room, drink lots of water and then try again when I was ready. Fine, so I drank water until I was going to puke and then when I thought I could pee a little, I flagged him down. This time I wasn't going to screw it up. I went in the bathroom, concentrated REAL hard and managed to put out some urine in the cup this time. I open the door, he grabs the cup and says, "This isn't enough."
"I'm sorry, Mr I Think You Are A Junkie No Sense of Humor, but what do you mean? You didn't tell me there was a urine quota! What the heck am I supposed to do about that????"
Not willing to guzzle any more water, and judging from the hostile, disbelieving text messages I was getting from Jack, I figured my time there had ended. I was stressing about what to do, and he told me to call the employer and see if I could get another set of paperwork so that I could try again another day.
"Why? So they can tell me I'm too stupid to hire???" How was I going to make that phone call? I went home and paced around wondering what I was going to tell them. Finally, I just called and made some vague excuse about screwing up their strict procedures at the clinic, and much to my relief they were really cool and told me they'd get the paperwork in order for me again.
Whew, disaster averted, job still possible. I went in yesterday and managed to get it right the first time! Third time is a charm and all that crap.... So now I will have to make sure that I act extra smart so that my husband forgets about this mere lapse in intelligence. As if...
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