Potty Time!... Or... Party Time!

I know, I know.  You're already worried.  And you really should be...

I was ambushed.  A friend of mine asked me to help her out, as she had to do something for her grandmother.  Me being me, really just couldn't say no, cause duuuuuuuuuude.  I really am just THAT nice.  Shocking, I am aware.

What exactly is it that we are to do?  Get a potty.

You read that right.  We had to head into granny's storage and find one of those potties that makes it so you don't have to lower yourself all the way to the lid (or you could be like me and want to be a lazy butt and not even get that much exercise...).  Granny's about to have more hip surgery, so really, how could I NOT help?  I mean, it's granny man!

I ended up at the storage unit first.  To which my girl called me and said she was going to be late and told me to get started without her... uhhh... ok... First I had to get a key from the front desk.  Except they didn't have A key, but four of them.  Then she walked me through it...

"Ok, I don't really remember the storage room or unit number, but if you go down to x floor... wait no, go to z floor and walk out.  When you're facing the hallway, go left and go to the end."  (I follow like a good little girl).  "Ok, it's the door on the end on the left."  (It was, of course, the last key I tried that worked).  "Now go in..." (Duh?) "And go to the last unit on the right.  You'll pass a bunch of others."  (No, really?)  "The lock combo is..."  Woohoo!  Phone died and lock is off.  Whatever, I'm there now, I got this.

Except I really don't.  First I take musty, old egg crate.  To which I then discovered some spiders upon moving.  EEEWWWW.  I am SO not mature enough for this (clearly as I'm now writing a blog about it...).  I FINALLY see it, buried in the back.  So I start pulling stuff out to get to it.  When I discover...

There's a chandelier sitting in the seat.  I'm pretty sure I should hit Mother Teresa level for the duty I am about to perform.  I manage to somehow use my womanly muscles and move the chandelier out.  Nevermind it's not a particularly big chandelier, but hey now, this is my story and since I fully intend to make me the hero of it...

Voila!  The potty has been rescued!  Now to get the rest of the crap, ahem, lovely paraphernalia, back into the unit.  While smelling like granny.  No joke.  I have no idea how to clean my jacket, but I will find a way... as a way is utterly necessary.  Since I'd prefer to not smell like gram.  You never know when I'll need to smell attractive, I mean, if I got the chance to run away with Aaron Rodgers tomorrow... hhhmmm... homeboy better come up with a reason for me to stay!

Anyways, then I couldn't get the lock back on.  There was another whole fiasco that ended up with me carrying a Christmas tree stand in the bowl of the potty.  You can imagine the looks I got from that adventure.

And now... we have ourselves a real life Porta - Potty, cause hey now, I ported that potty like there was no tomorrow.

And let the jokes begin...

Online Classes

After more than 15 weeks of online classes, I have noticed some distinct differences between having an online class versus an in person class.

*Everything is amplified on the microphone on the online platform, and I mean EVERYTHING.  If you forget to mute yourself and burp (or other expellation of gas), then everybody knows exactly who did it because it shows who's talking/making noise...

*I always get the worst urge to pick my nose in the online class.  Just to see what happens.  I can't say as I've ever had this urge in a real classroom.

*You don't exactly ask to use the bathroom.  You just get up and walk away.  Or if you're me, the phone is in my ear and I can hear everybody still discussing while squatting on the ol' pot.  Only a little disturbing.  I do always make sure I'm muted prior to flushing...

*You get kicked out a lot when the platform isn't very strong or you have a weak signal.  Too bad that doesn't happen in real life.  You get a break!

*You know how they say the camera adds 10 pounds?  Well... don't expect to be your usual gorgeous self.  It really just doesn't matter what you do...

And that's that for the day...

It's Called "Reading"

I come into work on this cold, icy day to read an e-mail from an undelightful fellow.  No, this was not the only reason I came to work, but this general gist is what I got the minute I walked in the door.

This particular gentleman purchased two tickets to a show for half off.  He writes an e-mail during the show after leaving the premises as he is unhappy that it is a children's production.  Nevermind the fact that this is a pre-professional studio.  He explicitely notes that while the advertisement from which he buys the tickets states the children's ages, that our web site states the children's ages, that because it is in the fine print and not the biggest thing on the ad, it is misleading.  Well, gee, I thought it was kind of important for the biggest thing to be the show name.  But hey, what do I know?

What's epic is this.  He goes on to say that he does not even suffer through his nieces and nephews performances, much less stranger children.  He would not pay $2 for a children's production, much less the $20 he did pay.  That he would go to a Caps game, but was only doing this for his wife - yet when he found out that it is children, he made them leave.

Well, this sounds like a gem of a man.  Certainly one I'd want to be married to...

Anybody else kind of glad he didn't sperminate his wife?

Sven

Sven is back in my life.  Long, hard, slippery..... Sven makes me work hard, with my slippery hands and slippery body.  By the end, I'm out of breath and panting......

I'm going back to pole dancing.  What did you think I was talking about?