Sunday, May 16, 2010

How I got squirted on by (an obviously male) machine.

So I'm sitting here going through my Reader, and I decided that I'd much rather write shit for people to read, than read shit that other people have written. I've got a couple of pretty good stories from work so far, and I thought I'd do the fabulous thing and share them with you.

Not like you have a choice about what I write. So ha. :)

My new job as a lab technician is going swimmingly. My third day on the job I was able to do a pair of glasses, from start to finish - by myself. Wahoo for me! From what everyone has told me, I seem to be smarter than your average bear. Or technician trainee. Whatever. It was kind of hilarious, because as my manager and I were talking about the other trainee, he told me had to keep reminding himself not to compare his progress to mine, because I was way ahead of where I should be.

Someone's going to have to come pop my fucking ego, because my head is too big for me to fit through the damn door. Seriously. I am awesome.

Also? Erf and Erflet are play wrestling in the living room. It is quite distracting, but in a cute, 'father-playing-with-his-son-who-may-randomly-hit-his-father-in-the-nuts' way.

So the whole process involves tracing the glasses, entering the prescription into the computer, lining up the axis, using the metal blocks and alloy machine to block the lenses, using the generator to cut in the prescription, buffing and polishing the lens, adding anti-scratch coating if necessary, blocking the lens again, cutting it to shape, adding UV protection or tint if necessary, then mounting the lens (ha, mounting) into the frames and checking to make sure the glasses are as they should be.

Well, on Thursday I was in the starting station - doing everything up to the generator. And I was trying to block a lens with the alloy machine, I broke the lever. This lever? Not an easy fucker to break. There's a huge spring that I undid or some shit, and the machine had to be taken apart to re-mount the spring. Both Sam and Lucas kept laughing and saying, "We've never seen anyone do that before." Because, apparently? It takes a lot of torque to undo that spring. I am she-woman, hear me roar!

Sam and Lucas proceeded to tease me the next few days about laying off the 'roids. :) FYI, the guys I work with (even though Lucas is a fuckstick and had quit - Saturday was his last day - before I started) are fucking AWESOME. It was mildly amusing when they each said to me, "Let us know if anything we say offends you." Because, ha! I can't recall the last time I found anything offensive. I'm a crude bitch, yo.

The other day I said to Sam, "You know, I do actually like Celine Dion. But, you know, I've got a vagina so it's cool."

The look on his face was priceless. Like he's never heard a female talk that way. Poor sheltered guy. He's in for such a shock. :)

So later that day after breaking the lever, I had left a cooling ring on the alloy machine and the alloy cooled and hardened inside the rubber nipple. (Dudes, I know. This place is full of hilarious and awesome innuendos.) I could not, for the life of me, dig out the alloy. So I did what any true blonde would fucking do. I pulled the lever in the hopes that the alloy would melt the cooled alloy. Apparently, the alloy machine was seeking revenge. It decided to squirt me with shiny, silver, 114 degree metal. Typical male, showing me who was boss by spooging on me.

Apparently even inanimate objects find my tits irresistible. Because that's where it decided to shoot it's load. Right on my chest, and down into my bra. Yeah, I know. Of course Sam and Lucas crack up laughing, and manage to spit out, "We've never seen anyone do that before!"

They say that a lot. To me, anyway.

So I had to go in the bathroom and fish alloy chips out of my tits. I came back in and said, "You know, that's the first time I've ever taken my bra off at work. It was rather awkward."

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Yes, kittens! It's a POST!

I know, I've been a terrible, terrible blogger. I haven't updated with regularity, and every post since I got the interwebz was strewn with hostility and a complete and utter lack of humor.

And humor was something you were used to getting from me, kittens. It was something *I* was used to getting from me. But for a while there, I lost it.

I quit my job on Thursday. It felt hella good. It felt like I was getting oral from Gerard Butler while he was offering me diamonds with one hand and chocolate with another. It was delicious, and my tummy was all full of the butterflies. That's not to say that I didn't appreciate the opportunity to learn and grow, but let's face it - when a job nearly makes your husband leave you, it's to the point where it's JUST. NOT. WORTH. IT.

I interviewed for the job on Wednesday morning, and by 3:30 Wednesday afternoon they were calling me to offer me the job... I am going to be a lab technician (doesn't that sound all fucking grown up and shit?) at an optometry place called Eyemart. I'm going to get a white lab coat to wear. One that doesn't make me hug myself all the time! I'm going to be cutting the lenses for glasses and assembling the glasses.

Most importantly, I'm going to have pretty much set hours and I'm going to have a steady paycheck. Because it sucks to have your landlady asking you when you'll be able to pay her SOMETHING towards rent. And having to tell her you didn't know because you didn't know when your next paycheck will be? It was a huge flux from when Erf and I were both in steady, full time jobs and paying our bills with money to spare. I hated it, and it was depressing. And while I know there will still be struggles ahead, I'm looking forward to the time when Erf graduates from school and is able to get a big-boy job, I'll be working full time, and we'll be able to afford a fucking date night now and then.

When I informed my boss of my intentions to terminate my employment, I thanked him for the opportunity and said that he and I both knew that it wasn't working for me. And I didn't (and still don't) feel it's fair to keep working somewhere where it's just not working. He was a good boss. But he looked at me and said, "It's hard for it to work out when you can't give it 100%." And I realized that this was the right choice. 100% means spending more time away from my family than I am willing to, it means sometimes going 3 or 4 days without seeing my son, it means being absent from my marriage... I gave it 100% once. My husband threatened to leave me, my son was having behavioral problems.

Nothing is worth that. Never again.

I like working a set schedule. I like having someone to answer to. I like knowing how much money I'm going to make. If that makes me less of a person in their eyes, than so be it. But I'm happy again for the first time in a long time. I can have tickle fights with my family without being annoyed. I have happily watched my son's behavior problems dissipate.

Yesterday was my birthday, today is Mother's Day. A weekend of celebrating getting myself back. To celebrate being able to have my family begin to reconnect.

I missed me.