Reddish Musings

I've decided to team up with my swank camera-phone and take a picture of something interesting from my day, and write on it.

I've had a strange week of long-term life decisions, but in short, I've put notice in at Target that I will no longer be working there (after a whole month, bad me), because my previous employers contacted me and offered me double the hours at double the pay. Too bad, so sad, right?

I will have to take night classes this Fall, but I think I can make it work. I'm smart and dedicated that way.

So! Today started with Cheerios and yogurt, and then a trip to the drug testing facility to reassure my future/previous bosses that I had not become a crackhead since they last saw me. Let me take this moment to admit that, despite having never taken a drug (other than prescribed pain pills after a surgery), I still get nervous when it comes time for drug testing. I don't know if it's just the severe, silent environment in the waiting rooms at those offices, or if it's the invisibly present knowledge that I could lose a job opportunity if I messed this up. Even though I know I haven't done anything wrong. Or maybe it's the fact that, to be prepared for these things, I drink a ton of water and then sit in the waiting room for way too long, bladder full to bursting, because it's not like you can just show up dry, y'know?

Also, pee-in-the-cup tests are one of the few moments in life where I wish I had a penis.

Anyway - saving all the gross details: I don't know if it was nerves, or just me being an utter klutz, but after managing to fill that dang cup enough (not entirely, thank God), I knocked it over. That's right - I spilled pee all over the restroom at a drug testing facility.

I am not proud of this. I was, in fact, beet red for the rest of the afternoon. It worked out, in the end, but 1) ew, and 2) omgembarrasingandwhatdoIdonowthatmybladderisempty!?

So, that was part 1 of my day. I know, aren't you so disappointed that wasn't the thing I took a picture of?

Nah, the picture that grabbed my attention today was a shot of the sandwiches my fiance and I bought at Bone Daddy's, a lovely booby-joint restaurant that serves amazing food (and "scenery" I guess. What a tacky term for half-naked waitresses). It was called the Flying Pig Sandwich, and, if I recall correctly, it had on it: