There is nothing in this world that is more capable of taking friends, and turning them into life-long buddies, than a day on the water.

Dr. Demento…

I work in an office, and Wednesday morning breakfasts are our big weekly event. Each Wednesday someone has the glory of bringing in breakfast. Everyone eats breakfast, but only about eight people bring it in. I’m one of the suckers that volunteered to feed the masses.

This past Wednesday was MY Wednesday. I tend to stop by some bagel shop or bakery, and bring bagels or fresh danish. Other women in our office actually make the stuff at home, and that usually involves that freakin’ Egg/Cheese/Sausage casserole or the over-rated Cracker Barrel Hash Brown thingie. Whatever? I don’t like to eat food from people whose homes I ever never entered. It’s just the way I am. I think everyone should bring the bagels.

So, on Wednesday, I’m slicing my bagel, I put it on a plate next to the toaster. There are two people in front of me. And in walks “Smelly Girl”, who I might add is gross and disgusting beyond the horrid odors she fills the hallways with. I also must add that she is the first to run to the breakroom for the breakfast, but does not participate in bringing the food. I think a description is in order:

Greasy, black hair stuck to her forehead. I think the one time she washed it her hair was actually a medium shade of brown. Black Mom Jeans, that end about 4 1/2 inches above her ankles. Black men’s ankle socks that end about 2 inches before the jeans stop. A dirty red or white t-shirt with at least ten stains on the front. She wears either the black with red or black with white every single freakin’ day. She smells like squirrel piss. (I can be coming down the hall, and catch a drift of her scent way before I see her. I turn, and run like hell.) And because her hair drips with grease, her skin is bad. She alwasy has these open pores on her face, surrounded by redness, and she picks at them while she converses with you. And she’s a freakin’ buttinski. Whatever you’re talking about, here she comes adding a comment that you could give two flying f’s about. For instance, I’ll be talking about an upcoming Wine Festival, and she’ll butt in with “Did you know that on this date three years ago, I wrote a check to Virginia Power for $123.12?”…What the fuck? Anyway, by now you should get the picture, and it’s not pretty.

So, besides the annoying and disgusting traits above, “Smelly Girl” has poor bathroom hygiene. How do I know? Well, she leaves the bathroom with (and this gets disguting, so stop reading here if you get disgusted by bathroom talk) pee drops all over the seat, blood drops on the seat and on the floor, HUGE Kaka stains and Kaka remnant on the toilet. And I seriousuly think she uses her hands to wipe!!!

So, you can imagine my utter disgust when yesterday, she walks into the kitchen, eats two huge cream-filled donunts and continues to stand around staring at me, while I wait for the toaster to free up. I’m chatting with someone I like, and I hear “oh, is this ready to go in?”, and I look and “Smelly Girl” is picking up my bagel and placing it in the toaster. She didn’t even let me respond! I was starting to scream “Don’t touch my bagel”, and her no wiping, piss hands were all over my bagel. I bit my tongue, and held back the “Bitch, what the fuck are you doing? That’s my bagel. You smelly disgusting whore!” But I smiled, took out my bagel, and said “Oh, this is an apple crunch bagel. Silly me. Here, why don’t you have it?” And “Smelly Girl” smiled sweetly, grabbed the bagel, inhaled it, and said “Do you know the origin of the bagel?”, and I quickly bolted.

I had no breakfast on Wednesday.

And one more thing about “Smelly Girl”…I’ve caught her stealing other people’s food out fo the fridge on more than three occasions.

On most afernoons Misty and I both get to the Wave to pick up the kids arond the same time. Generally, we’ll stand inside or out in front of the school talking about important subjects like Skulz, odd people sightings or something we didn’t already discuss between the time we saw each other at lunch, through e-mail, phone calls or blogging. Yes, we both work very hard at our jobs!

Today we were outside discussing how hip the teens are that attend Wave Church. It’s one of thos ultra-hip, geared for today’s youth kind of churches. They have punk rock bands that play at night, and the kids are all extremely attractive. They look like a bunch of Gap models.

And then we got completely distracted by this conversation:

Dena: Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
Misty: Blah, blah, blah?
Dena: Yes, blah, blah, blah!
Ethan: Can I have some gum?
Dena: Hold on. Blah, Blah, Blah
Misty: I agree…blah, blah.
Ethan: Can I please have some gum?
Dena: In a minute. Blah, blah, blah…blah, blah
Ethan: Please can I have some gum?
Misty: Oh, blah, blah.
Ethan: Can I have some FUCKIN’ gum?

Yes, we stopped talking. And sadly, we both were in hysterics. Thank goodness it wasn’t my mother I was having a conversation with!

It was definitely a proud Mommy moment right there in front of the church. Oh, and when we got to Target guess what the first thing I put in my cart was?

I got this from Misty, who got it from La-Bella.

Here’s mine, and the instrucitons from Misty:

Now you! I am tagging everyone.

All you have to do is take a screen shot of your desktop. If you don’t know how, here are some instructions to help:

Click your mouse somewhere on your desktop. Press the Print Screen key on your keyboard—this captures what’s displaying on the entire computer screen.

Once you’ve captured a screen, it is in an area of memory on your computer and will stay there until you copy something else. You can now paste this captured image into a document or into a graphic application such as Microsoft’s Paint (available through Start > Programs > Accessories > Paint) and modify it.

Post it on your site and leave me a comment and let me know you did it.

Ever noticed how people often resemble their pets in appearance or mannerisms? Well, this isn’t our chicken (rooster?), but I think E’s done a phenomenal impersonation. He’s got the puffed chest down to a science.

Well, there you have it. I’m not sure who it’s worth that much to, however.

My mother’s cousins. As was typical during the 1920′s, little boys under the age of three were dressed and coiffed much like little girls.

Today I had an ultrasound guided needle biopsy of a lymph node in my neck, and a lump in my thyroid gland.

I didn’t get any bad news, but I didn’t get any good news either. As the ultrasound tech, the radiologist, the microscope guy (he has a real title) and the pathologist poked, prodded and discussed my case, I sat still with a feeling of dread. The radiologist pulled crap out of the lumps, dumped it on a slide and the microscope guys made comments like “it keeps crumbling” and “get a better sample”, as the radiologist stuck the needle back into my neck. I did keep asking them if it looked suspicious, and they said that it wasn’t showing visible signs of cancer in either the lymph node or the thyroid gland, and that makes be feel a good deal better. This means that it’s nothing that’s progressed to a startling, obious cancer, and I really am hopeful that it’s nothing to get worked up over. I should have the pathology reports back by the end of this week, or the early part of next week.

I did learn that the thryoid gland is nowhere near the lymph node that they biopsied. The lump that I was thinking they were worried about is not the thyroid gland. This meant I got to be stabbed in two places. The testing took two hours, compared to the 10 minutes I was told. Nothing is worse than being told you can’t swallow…makes me want to swallow every three seconds. I also started freaking after the fifth attempt to get a good sample from the lymph node. Feeling needles going in and out of your neck is just a very freakish feeling. All I can say, is I’m glad it’s over. It’s a much worse procedure than I was prepared for, and I hope never to have it done again.

I’ll be sporting a turtleneck for the next couple of days because my neck is very bruised and we don’t want anyone to think Adam’s been choking me. We are definitely not into erotic asphyxiation.