Biometric Screenings

I am thinking that I need to quit participating in the Biometric screenings the company I work for has every year. Every year, it never goes well in some way or the other. Last year, I ended up running back to get my Blue Cross/Blue Shield insurance card, only to have them tell me it wasn’t needed and have my pulse rate skyrocket to 90 +. And this year?

I got congratulated on being pregnant with my first baby.

No – this is not a real baby. This is a way that the lady who is taking your measurements and weighing you tells you that you are fat.

And yes – I am grumpy about it lol

Everything was going according to plan when I got there. I had my insurance card, my work ID and was on time. I go to the first lady to get weighed, and then she takes my measurements. She then says:

“I see why you are a bit bigger than last year. Congratulations.”

I stood there, not knowing if I should embarrass her and tell her that no – I am just fat. Or to just let it go. Or to just go postal on her. So I did nothing, and went on to the next person in line to have them do the blood work.

But seriously? Doncha think she would know better than to assume something like that? I should have just asked her what her excuse was for being fat lol

OK – deep breaths Lisa. Let it go. Just let. IT. GO.

A Crappy Night

'Something smells like dog poop', my husband says as soon as I get downstairs with my new Accounting tax book on our leather couch.

'Gee, thanks' I said. 'What a way to greet your wife.'

This, of course, does not phase my husband, who asks if I smell it. I do not - and I tell him so - so he goes back to surfing on his laptop. I start reading my Accounting book, stopping a couple of times to sarcastically remark how 'fascinating' Chapter One was - only to be ignored by my husband. Altho, suddenly I start smelling something a bit 'off', so I admitted to my husband that I was smelling it too now. However, after a quick look around, my husband does not see anything and we go back to what we were doing before. I notice my book smells a bit funny when we do so, and mention that it could be my book. My husband leans over and sniffs the book - and mentions that it *could* be, too. And then we went back to book reading and internet surfing yet again.

I turn on my side, sigh a couple of times and make one more 'fascinating' remark - when my husband grabs his laptop and says he has to move - the smell was too much for him. I declare that, 'well, fine! then I am too!' and sit up,get ready to get up and momentarily look down at the floor.

A floor with dog poop on it.

I get up and look at the couch.

There is dog poop on it.

I turn around to look at the back of my pants.

There is F'N dog poop smeared all over it.

I start yelling 'EWWWW' and hurrying upstairs to the shower, as my husband tells me that I need 'to go to my kennel'.

And, that, my folks, is what you call a crappy night lol