Video from one of the last ArtWalks I went to before we moved from JAX. And, of course, I can’t remember the band’s name, but they were fabulous!
Opportunity is all around us – we just have to be willing to see it…or have the balls to grab it. Ooorrrrr…sometimes, you just need to admit you’re kind of an unscrupulous a$$hole.
After I parked next to this vehicle and got out, I was assaulted with a plethora of bad window decals. Immediately, I wondered “Does this mean Jesus loves Betty Boop?” According to the stickers this giant SUV he does…although it kind of looks like maybe he’s just looking down on old Betty and thinking to himself “Jesus knows you a ‘ho, girl”.
Then I start thinking, “Now why would you pair Jesus and Betty Boop together on your vehicle? Exactly what message are you trying to send to us about your personality?” Maybe Jesus is onto something here….maybe the driver is a ‘ho looking for some salvation…or maybe the driver is just a nimrod with a weird Betty Boop window decal obsession, but didn’t want anyone to think they weren’t a believer, so threw in a window decal of Jesus for good measure before heading out the club on a Friday night.
I’ve learned that people in the South like to throw Jesus into a lot of places where he doesn’t necessarily belong…like government and public schools…at least this person realizes that Jesus loved hanging with the sinners and I’m pretty sure that Betty was a naughty one. Come to think of it, maybe this window decal lover of Betty Boop and Jesus actually understands more about Jesus than the churches here do!
I just wish I was able to get a picture of the owner of said vehicle – then we might be able to put this mystery to rest once and for all.
I have no idea if his name is Ed, or Mr. Crazy Pants McGhee, but I am going with the latter….
A few weeks ago, I had to take a pee test to check for drugs in my system. No, I’m not on probation (to some of you and yours surprise, I am sure). Rather, I recently received a stellar offer to relocate to Portland and part of the company’s pre-employment screening process involves a background check and a drug test. Do you know how many years it’s been since I had to take a drug test?!! I have difficulty with peeing in a cup when they ask for a urine sample at my annual “scooch-down” doctor visit, let alone for some random person in a random clinic on Southside, even though I have nothing to worry about when it comes to actual said test. I don’t even sneak a pee while I am talking on the phone to friends and I expect you all to return the favor – do NOT sneak a pee while I am on the phone with you – that is NOT the kind of friendship I care to have.
Because peeing in a cup is so traumatizing for me, I planned enough time to go get Starbucks afterwards as a treat and still make it to work by 10. I arrived at the clinic at about 8:30 and there was no one there – easy peezy in and out right?
I gave the woman at the counter my paperwork and she asked if I was ready to come back and get this party started (really what she said was, “are you ready to come back?”). To which I replied, “No”.
“That’s fine. I can wait. Just have a seat in the lobby and let me know when you’re ready,” she said. So, I sat and waited for about 20 minutes, then got up and told her I thought it was time. When she escorted me back to the pee test room, she grabbed a cup from the shelf and showed it to me. With her finger on a line on the cup she stated, “I need 45cc of fluid. Do you think you can give me that?”
Obviously, she could sense the hesitation in my voice because she disclosed, “I don’t have very many exam cups, so if you don’t think you are ready yet, we can wait.” I nodded my head and said, “let’s wait”, turned around and headed back out to the lobby.
After another 15 minutes went by, I grew impatient. All this waiting was eating into my Starbucks time. I now had less than an hour to pee, get coffee, and drive to work…in that order…so I tell the woman that I’m ready. It takes her a few minutes to get the room set up and then she called me back.
As she hands me the cup, she tells me, “do not flush the toilet or wash your hands until I tell you to.” Ew. In the toilet, she has dropped a tab that turns the water blue. Why? I am not sure, but I just made that shit rhyme…holla!
I take the cup from her, shut the door and assume the position. Alas, after all of that effort, I can only come up with 30cc which equates to about 2 tablespoons. TWO Tablespoons! I at least remember not to flush or wash my hands (ew) and then open the door with my head hung down. “I couldn’t do it,” I report.
“Well now you have to stay here until you can try again,” she said. “I should have told you that before, but if you leave now it will be marked as a failed test.”
“Try drinking more water while you wait,” she said as we walked back out to the front lobby.
“Can I go get my coffee out of my car?” I ask. (Did I mention I brought a secret stash of coffee with me…because I may have a problem…with COFFEE, not with drugs, jeez!)
“Normally, we do not allow people to leave our office, but coffee will help, so let me ask my supervisor,” she replied. The supervisor agreed, so I dashed out front, grabbed my coffee mug and came back inside to sit and wait…and wait…and wait some more.
I sent an email to let the office know my doctor’s appointment was running long, but would be in by 11. It’s a small fib – don’t tell the background check people, okay? By this point, I am bored out of my mind, so I text a few of my peeps about my predicament, in hopes they can commiserate about the stress of having to pee in a cup.
All I got back a lot of “psssssss” and “pssssssssshhh” comments. Will someone please explain to me how sounding like a broken gas pipe is somehow supposed to make me want to pee? I mean, really? At this point, I have to stop drinking water because my stomach can’t stretch any farther and I begin to feel woozy. I dial my business partner up to get the update on some of our social justice, super hero shit we have going on in order to distract myself from my first world problems for a minute.
Almost an hour has gone by and I am becoming even more impatient with the whole process. I decide to jump up and down while I’m on the phone with her, thinking this may help to get some things flowing. Low and behold, after about 5 minutes, I have the urge to urinate. I announce to my partner, “Girl, I gotta let you go, but I will call you back in 10 minutes and tell you why, ” and then I hung up and ran to find my zoo keeper.
We both make a mad dash for the exam room, she hands me another cup and reminds me not to flush the toilet or wash my hands afterwards until she gives me the okay to do so…again I say, ew. As I walk into the W.C., I notice that there is no blue water in the toilet, and I will be damned if anything is going to make me have to come back and retake this damn test, so I ask, “aren’t you supposed to put the blue tabby thingy in the toilet?”
“Oh shit! I almost forgot,” she exclaims. (That’s right, I got the drug test tech to curse…insert secret, little happy dance, BEFORE I peed in the cup, here)
She shut the door so I can get down to business and I filled that cup, bitches! I yell out through the door, “success!” and she hollers back, “who-hoo!” Then, I finish up and, of course, almost forget and reach back to flush the toilet. BAH! No mistakes now, I am too close to the finish line!
After I get my pants back up where they belong, I open the door so that she can hurry up and do what she needs to because I want to wash my damn hands…ew, ew, ewwwww! Once I get the ok from her, I scrub up and sign the paperwork verifying that my pee is my own and that I have signed it over to the testing facility to complete their necessary exams and then enter me into the national database for continued governmental spying upon its citizens in everyday life…oh…AND so I can get my move date to Portland!
Then, I skip out to my car and head over to Starbucks to celebrate. After I order my grande soy, no whip, mocha, I head straight to the bathroom…cuz I gotta pee, yo!