Shit Story(s)

You read that right.  Shit stories.  That means more than one.  And...GO!
I used to work at Arnie's in Edmonds on the waterfront.  Fun job and I got to work with my cousin, Bre.  I originally got the job when I was 19 to work in the kitchen since I was finishing up my Culinary Arts degree, but they wanted me in a dress instead.  So, my job was mostly as a hostess.  Part of what I had to do was maintain the lobby, clean and stock the women's restroom, and then the obvious...seating patrons.  Well, Edmonds has a lot of old people living there.  A LOT.  And sometimes they have...accidents.  On several occasions I would go in and stock the bathroom and come out gagging.  But one time in particular stood out.  I went in to a literal shit storm.  I thought I was going to puke when I saw the "mess".  The manager told me to go ahead and clean it up and that it wasn't a big deal.  Really?  There was shit all over the toilet, behind the toilet, up the wall, up the stalls, the door, and all over the floor.  It looked like someone had put great effort into taking about 4 squares of toilet paper and smeared her shit around the bowl of the toilet and covered the seat.  Did this woman leave immediately?  Did she stay?  Was she in the dining room eating her dinner?  Good God, did she wash her hands?!!  I will never know.  But when my manager asked me to clean it, all I could do was laugh.  No thank you.  While she too, was wearing a dress, I was not about to get some strange old lady's poop on my dress.  Later in life, I wasn't even okay with Farrah pooping on me.  IT'S NEVER OKAY!!  So, my manager cleaned the shit and I kept my job and my dignity.

Another shit story and another job in good ol' Edmonds, WA.  I worked at Stevens Hospital.  Loved my job there.  Except one day that stood out in my mind was repeat of the above story.  I went into the restroom to check supplies which would be replaced by highly trained professional maintenance employees.  But I stumbled upon - not literally - another shit storm.  Shit EVERYWHERE.  Again, up the walls, all over the floor, covered the seat and handle, and I'm pretty certain it hit the ceiling.  At the hospital, I was not told to clean up the shit, but rather to put an "out of order" sign up and call maintenance.  I feel sorry for that person.  However, I came to the conclusion that they are pumping senior citizens with some sort of enima product for what I can only guess is for a colonoscopy-esque procedure.  Unfortunately, the warning label doesn't and yet should read:  "Do not leave your bathroom for any reason whatsoever....ever... until you are certain that you have lost 10 pounds instantly."

Well, that's it.  I'm tired so the effort I'm putting into this is pathetic.  Sorry.  Kinda.

5th Grade Drama

I remember all of my teachers from preschool all the way to the 6th grade.  After that, it gets a little foggy due to having to have 7 different teachers each year thereafter.  However, one teacher stood out in my mind and still does due to the type of interaction she and I had.  My original 5th grade teacher was Mr. Sager.  Loved him.  He had been my brother's 5th grade teacher as well, so naturally I was thrilled to get someone who was familiar with my family.  Well, Mr. Sager had a massive heart attack that put him out of commission the rest of the year after only getting him for about 3 months.  The substitute was Mrs. Millasich.  Yep, writing her name.  She seemed friendly at first due to the fact that she was "just the sub" and trying to win points with the students as all subs would do.  Unfortunately, her stay ended up being permanent and therefore running the curriculum the way she wanted.  But something about her was off.  I'm not saying I wasn't a total shit growing up, because I know at times I was.  However...not all the time.  She HATED me.  I, to this day, have no clue what I had done to become her target, but I remember thinking back that it was bullshit.  She'd accuse me of things I hadn't done but in fact, my friends had.  She'd yell at me in front of the class because she thought I was doing one thing when I was doing another.  And finally, she called me a liar.  Big effin' mistake.  I had put up with her bullshit for months and endured going to detention day after stupid day for God knows what.  In fact, the detention lady that everyone hated always had a sad look on her face whenever I'd walk in.  Because I'd be crying not knowing what the hell I was being put in a small room built out of cinder blocks for.  Also, it's important to note that I had NEVER been to detention ever, nor had I ever had poor relationships with any of my teachers.  This is where my mother came in.  She was a teacher back then and would tend to lean with the other teachers' assessments because they're all part of the same team.  Not this time.  This time my mom pulled out all her expertise and dumped it in the asshole woman's lap.  We conferenced with the principal who had known me since I started in Kindergarten and I'd always loved that man.  His daughter had become one of my good friends.  So...again, he knew me.  There was a teacher, student, parent, principal conference and basically a big 'ol "come to Jesus" about how she was treating me, to the point of past transcripts being pulled out and report cards to show to the Beast that I was a pretty good kid in school.  Lame story, but one that clearly stuck with me for a long time.  The rest of the school year, she left me alone and pretty much pretended like I didn't exist.  Fine with me!  I have quite a few better school stories after that...

Drunk

When I was growing up, I was raised with parents that shared their alcoholic beverages with us whenever we'd ask.  Only a sip, mind you.  Mom and dad had these tiny thimble size glassware that they would pour a little Bailey's in for special occasions.  Just the right size for children.  My mom's side of the family is very German, and in Germany they make kid's beer that is the color green and taste like fruit loops...so no griping about my upbringing.  That's hard core shit back there.
Anyway, when my parents would have company or we'd go to my grandparents' house, I'd ask for a sip of whatever people where drinking.  Bourbon and water (what?), Manhattan, Fuzzy Navel (yum), and every football game or when dad was working outside - beer.  Usually, Coors.
What I had found was this type of upbringing made it so the whole fascination of "partying" was not interesting to me.  My friends who grew up tethered as far away from alcohol as possible, were the ones who drank the most.  I was usually the designated driver.  Getting drunk didn't really interest me because, big freakin' deal...it's booze.  Who cares?

However...I did decide one night with my girlfriends to try out getting some alcohol in my system that was more than a sip or a thimble full.  Ah, the joys of peer pressure.  Well, Becky had a large assortment of mini bottles of various vodkas collected over time.  She didn't drink that often either, so essentially it was our night to be drunkies.  I'd shoot back half a "bottle," chase it with orange juice and then hand the rest of the bottle over to Beck and she'd follow suit.  They were all different tastes.  The final one was freaking horrible.  Who's idea was it to make Pepper Vodka?!!  Eww.  Anyway, buzzed and then sloppy, our sober friends took us out for the night.  The rest of this story has already been written in my other blog.  But I'll sum up what happened:

Beck and I sat with these two guys from Canada at a Denny's (of course, because we were drunk and that's where drunk people go) while our friends watched from a distance laughing at us and our shenanigans.  Becky would flirt with them, getting their undivided attention while I grabbed a burger from one of their plates and took a massive bite.  Then when I grabbed their attention, Becky ate a massive amount of fries.  By the time we were done with chatting it up with them, half their meal was gone.  We had the best time and never got sick.  And no hang over!

Anyway, I'm not positive if it was this same night or not, but my friends Amy and Suzie hopped out the window of Suzie's room out into the woods and came back 30 minutes later with a road barrier with a flashing light.  We were a group of bad girls doing stupid things that would make us laugh our asses off.  Fun times!