Showing posts with label gagging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gagging. Show all posts

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Cat-like Gag Reflexes

If you're a parent you can never leave your children alone for a moment. You know how you hear all the time from the parents of the 5 year old you see on the news, who drove an 18-wheeler into a barn or fell off the roof of the grocery - "I only turned my back for a second!"

Well, that's too long.

You can't turn your back ever and here's a little story from my childhood as more evidence that turning your back is not a good idea.

We lived in a house that didn't have central air conditioning, but we had 2 window air conditioners, one in the kitchen/dining room combo and one in my parents bedroom, because in the 70's the parents were the really important people in the house and children were second class citizens who were made to suffer and sweat.

These days I think such a thing may be considered child abuse and things are all turned around and now parents are suffering for the children. What gives?

My brother in law Las Vegas is a prime example of this. MDH once went to a UMASS football game with Las Vegas and his oldest son who at the time was 18. The three of them stayed in a hotel room with 2 full size beds. MDH slept in one of the beds and Las Vegas slept ON THE FLOOR and let his young, spry perfectly healthy 18 year old son have the other bed. In my youth this would never have happened unless I was crippled or something and even then I'm still not sure my parents would have let me have the bed.

Anyhoo... the window air conditioners were expensive and I wasn't allowed anywhere near them for any reason.

We also (for a couple of years) had a pet cat. Her name was Calico and I loved her severely, but nobody had ever shown or told me how to care for or play with a cat properly and as a result Calico stayed as far away from me as possible at all times. I was a tail pulling, force-the-cat-into-my-doll- clothes kind of child. In short, the cat thought I was a little asshole and her instinct for self preservation was correct.

I was constantly chasing after our beloved kitty and the kitty was constantly skulking, low to the ground, as fast as she could away from me.

I soon learned however that she could be coaxed, temporarily, with food.

We kept our pantry stocked with can after can of a disgusting, although very popular at the time, brand of cat food called Puss 'N Boots. No doubt made with ground up horse meat, old phone books, o'possum innards and fish guts, for flavor cats love. Whatever was in it you can be sure that it stunk to high heaven and if you looked at it or had to smell it long enough your gag reflex would begin to kick in.

At the time my sister, who I mentioned before had Down's Syndrome, was going through a phase where she too was obsessed with our cat and also especially with dogs (though we didn't have one). She would spend a great deal of time on her hands and knees barking and meowing. Once she got into trouble for insisting that my mother serve her dinner on the floor instead of the dining room table.

My mother said, "Get up here and eat your dinner at the the table this minute! You're a big girl!", to which my sister replied with a loud yapping bark and then said, "NO! Me a boy doggie!", and barked again as to further prove her point.


Actually she said "Goggie" and it was all ridiculously adorable, up to a point.

Now that you know all of this I can tell you about the series of events that unfolded one summer evening when my mother left my sister and me alone for a few moments. Moments that would change all of our lives forever. Or at least until we finally moved out of that house.

As soon as I realized that for whatever reason my mother was going to be gone for awhile I made my move to the pantry and grabbed a can of Puss N' Boots, slithered over to the electric can opener I that could barely reach on the kitchen counter and the cat food can opening noise began.

As I'd hoped, Calico came running immediately.

My plan was working.

I scooped the stinking pile of cat food into a clean dish, set it down on the kitchen floor and laid down next to it as close as I could stand so that I could pet the cat while she ate.

So absorbed was I in watching the cat enjoy her bonus dinner I did not notice that my sister was observing the event as well.

She walked over to Calico and me, plopped herself down on all fours, shoved the cat out of the way, face planted herself into the bowl and began to eat the cat food herself.

I leapt into action, grabbed the bowl of cat food and started running at full tilt for the dining room. Not so much because my sister had started eating the food, but more because she had ruined my rare and special cat petting moment. I looked around for a new spot to begin again with the cat lovin'.

It was at this time that I tripped over my sister's outstreched leg.

So the bowl of stinking cat food in in my hand went rolling and flying across the dining room, the gooey blobs of cat food rolled and tumbled through the air and landed with a wet, sloppy splat right on the air conditioner.

Cat food was in every single little slat, nook and cranny.

I tried to clean up as much as I could as quickly as I could before my mother came back. Meanwhile my sister had grabbed the bowl that fell to the ground and resumed her mealtime kitty impersonation.

Of course my mother showed up right about this time and I don't remember much after that.

I do remember this: My mother and I were so busy, furiously cleaning the air conditioner, that we had kind of forgotten about my sister having eaten the cat food. Later, when my dad came home from work he nearly vomited when he greeted my sweet baby sister with a kiss. He recalled later that her breath could have knocked over a grizzly bear.

And I remember this: We were never able to get all of the cat food cleaned out of the air conditioner and every time we turned it on the entire house smelled like rotten sardines.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

In Response To Your Google Search Query #1

Just in case you thought I was done blogging for the day:

Dear Person Who Found My Blog Via The Search Query "how to make big fluffy croissants",

Quel Damage! But mercy buckets for visiting! I presume to take the meaning of your query in a non-sexual way and hope you weren't too disappointed to find this blog has nothing to do with baked goods or pastries and everything to do with my life's boring and often disgusting minutiae. I do have some good news for you, however!

No, I didn't just save a bundle on car insurance, but I actually DO know the secrets of how to make big fluffy croissants.

Here you go:
Don't over knead the dough and make sure that both the butter AND the dough are about the same temperature before you begin rolling. 65°F (23°C) is ideal. Now, if that doesn't work for you, you can try a little trick I learned several years ago in Paris that I like to call "go to the bakery and let a professional worry about such things darling because life is short".

Bon appétit et Bonne Chance!

Toodles!
The Lady

Friday, September 21, 2007

New Rules

Since not much is going on in my life lately, as I have mentioned before, I will be pulling a story for you today from my past. A disgusting story from my recent past that gives me a reason to be glad I am not currently working. If you are the least bit squeamish stop right here. Come back and visit another day and I will do my best to amuse you at that time, but today for some reason this is the story that is foremost in my fat head and I'm typing it out come hell or high water. I may even hit the "Publish" button.

You have been warned.

My last week of work had the the unfortunate coincidence of also being the week that my supervisor decided that I would be a good candidate to have the newest member of our team tag along with me to observe my work. I was really good at what I did (oh, shut up - there is documented proof) so they did this to me quite a lot. In my cloud of emotion from quitting I totally forgot that the dude was coming with me until I got off the plane and heard his cheerful voice mail message on my cell phone saying that he was waiting for me at our hotel and very excited to meet me.

Norman Newguy had no idea that I'd quit my job hours before and I didn't see any reason to tell him. I decided that I would be completely professional and keep that information to myself and give him the best on-the-job learning experience possible. After all, it wasn't his fault I was disgruntled.

I met with Norm about 30 minutes after arriving at the hotel. I asked if he minded if I smoked, he said not at all, so I lit up (my one week of cheating after having quit in December) and proceeded to tell him what I expected from him throughout our work week together. The rules that follow are based upon things that I finally figured out must be said out loud and made clear to new employees after several previous less than stellar experiences:

  • You are observing only and are not to pipe in or interrupt when I am speaking unless it is of extreme emergency such as the building, me or a member of the class is on fire. If you are on fire, please stop, drop and roll and keep the noise down.


  • If I have left a topic from the training guide or outline un-discussed I have done it for a purpose and do not wish for you to publicly point out my omission. You may ask me about it later in private if you wish, at which time I will make you feel stupid for questioning my logic.


  • We, meaning YOU are to follow the rules of the clinic at all times. If the staff are not allowed to have a beverage at the front desk then neither are you. If they are not allowed to chew gum, then neither are you, etc..

  • We, meaning YOU, do not accept invitations from clinic owners or staff without discussing it with ME first. YOU do not go anywhere outside of this practice (bar, strip club, home) with the clinic owner or staff without my permission.

  • When I tell you "No" what I really mean is "Are you out of your stupid mind?" and do not wish to be questioned about my decision.


  • You will not approach any animal no matter how cute, cuddly or harmless looking without permission from either the clinic staff or the pet owner. If you disobey this rule and are bitten and/or scratched I will admonish you later in private and make you wish you were never born. Do not expect any sympathy no matter how serious the wound.

  • You will not leave your belongings strewn about the clinic and will take away with you each night what you brought with you each day. Do not leave your breakfast, lunch, laptop, car keys, cell phone, soda, or any other tangible item in the clinic for someone else to eat, spill, lose, drop, break, or (in one instance involving an incontinent clinic cat) pee on.


  • You are not to gross out or act like anything, ANYTHING, you may see is beneath you. It's a vet clinic, kid. There will be poop, blood, guts and many other oozing oddities. I suggest watching several episodes of Emergency Vets if you have a problem with this.


  • When you are on the job you are asexual. Do not flirt. Do not make any kind of overture that may be construed as being of a sexual nature. Do not refer to any persons body or body parts, tattoos or clothing (this is a point I tried to make especially clear for male trainees as most people who work in vet clinics these days are chicks).
  • Oh, and don't wear black clothes. They're just a magnet for pet hair.

I think that covers most of it. Do you understand? Good. Let's have some fun!

Ordinarily one of the beautiful things about my old job was this - I did it ALONE.

The next beautiful thing about my old job was this - I was in complete CONTROL at all times. Doing the job alone helped to guarantee that I was in control. My voice, my decisions, my time, my choice of restaurant, and so on.

What interesting things you must be learning about me by knowing these particular facts, eh?



Here's something else about me: I have tremendous patience and empathy for grown-ups who are learning new things, having been one myself for most of my adult life. If not in real life, in professional situations my goal was always to remain calm, no matter how nutty or overstimulated my trainees were getting. It's not unknown for me to dance or sing to get people to refocus and stop freaking out. Most people don't adapt to change (learning new comptuter system) easily and tend to act like nut jobs. Poor lambs.



Another detail that is crucial to this story: The clinic where this training occurred had a kick-ass coffee machine. More of an elaborate brewing system really. I noticed it the minute we walked in the door and couldn't wait to test it out (once I'd established it was permitted of course). It was similar to what you see on the right here only it had a huge compartmentalized contraption around it containing coffees, teas, hot chocolate, froth packets, straws, stirrers, and cups. I suppose it's really the cups that caused the problem. Well that and complete brainless, thoughtless, idiotic, syahoaogaglakg!!! Gag, gag, gag.


Excuse me, please.


Moving on. Are you sure you want to keep reading? Very well then.

The coffee machine was relatively new for the clinic too, so everyone was as in love and impressed with it as I. Unfortunately I never travel with my own mug after my favorite one broke in my suitcase a few years ago. I, along with most of the clinic staff was using the paper cups that were located in the compartment contraption. Norm was too, only I didn't realize he wasn't drinking coffee.


Now if this were not my last job I would have had to add a new rule.

DO NOT CHEW TOBACCO PRODUCTS IN OR NEAR THE CLINIC


You may see where this story is leading.


After two days of Norm by my side in the clinic I was feeling very positive about his future. He was polite, charming, professional, followed the rules and it seemed to me that he may not be a pain in the ass after all. In fact I found him to be quite helpful.


We had finished the classroom style portion of the training and were sitting in the owners office going over some manager type stuff. Whatever it was you can be assured it involved me talking, pointing, ignoring Norm and concentrating on the client while Norm listened and was generally being a very good boy. I announced a recess and casually reached over for my coffee cup and took an enormous, queen-size swig.


And then I died a little inside.

You may have gathered if you've been reading this or any of my other posts that I'm kind of a priss.


It's hard to be prissy when you realize you just drank a big swaller of someone elses spit. Not just spit either. But spit mixed with menthol flavored chewing tobacco.

Spit mixed with menthol flavored chewing tobacco that has been resting between the cheek and gum of Norman Newguy for christ only knows how long.

It was body temperature warm, it was menthol-ish, it was slimy and I wished I was dead. I somehow maintained my composure and calmly clicked my prissy kitten heels to the closest bathroom where I immediately began retching up the vile mixture, thereby reliving the experience all over again in reverse.


Upon my return I could barely manage to say to Norm, "I'm going to step outside for a moment would you please come with me?"


In the parking lot I led him to the rental car without a word and bade him to get inside. I in the driver's seat, he in the passenger seat, I simultaneously gagged and screamed at him while he bleated out unaccepted apologies. I loudly pointed out to him how very lucky we were (HE was) that it was ME who drank his vile swill and not the clinic owner, who was also drinking out of the same type of paper coffee cup.

The rest of it was something like: Remove the tobacco from your repugnant mouth and don't ever, ever, ever, EVER DO THAT AGAIN. Anywhere, at any jobsite, alone or unsupervised ever, ever, EVER.

Why am I sharing this delicious story? I'm not sure.

A better question may be, why have you continued to read it?

What's the lesson here? Maybe it's this, look before you drink. Or maybe it falls into the category I've featured before about being direct and specific. Ask your new employees if they chew tobacco and if they say yes tell them not to. Or if you work in the bowels of hell where (I still can't imagine) tobacco chewing is permitted, tell them to clearly label their makeshift spitoons with some kind of warning.

Don't assume like I did that people (I say people so as not to be sexist even though I have yet to meet a woman who chews tobacco) who seem perfectly charming and normal have enough sense not to leave cups of their own expressed bodily fluid laying about for dimwits like me to chug.

Apparently the rules must be laid out more specifically than anyone realized. If you have to tell someone that it's not okay to roll diced dried weeds in your mouth for hours on end and then spit the remains into a paper cup within reach of woeij;vnaiv gag, gag, gag. Sorry.

We might was well lay down these rules of work behavior that people may have been taking for granted as well:

  • Don't shit on the floor or anywhere but in a toilet. When and if you do please flush the toilet and watch to make sure your entire contribution has been dispatched.

  • Don't use the key to the supply cabinet to clean your ears.

  • Don't microwave onion and stinkloaf sandwiches in the break room at 8:15 am. It's not okay at any time, but less okay at that early hour.

  • Don't take off your shoes ever, for any reason or length of time. Your feet stink and nobody needs to know this about you.

  • Don't pick your nose and wipe the results under your chair. We see you. You don't think we can and you are wrong. You are a genuine pig and nobody needs to know this about you.

I think that covers it, but just in case:

  • Don't move or speak

  • Don't even open your stupid mouth or make eye contact

  • Don't make me tell you again