Gearing up for battle is never easy. It's exciting to be doing something, going on another adventure (despite that adventure being, well, a daily occurence...still) and finding maybe you are a productive human! But, let's be honest, it's battle for goodness' sake. That's scary, and tiring. Make that exhausting. Except I'm not a mom so maybe I'm not allowed to use the word 'exhausted'. It's staying, though. So deal.
In any case, stepping into the porcelain tub, carefully drawing the curtain shut because fail-pole just balances precariously between the two shower walls and turning on a cold shower is NOT a good pre-work practice. Starting off on a bad foot; bad.
"Hope, can you hurry? I need to be at TDA by such-and-such time...."
Except not awesome. Because I didn't wash my face or shave. Incomplete morning routine? Prepare for EPIC-FAIL-MELTDOWN.
Made up for it with leftover pizza. So all is well.
I'm pretty sure I'm legit-diagnostic-batty-crazy (just looked up 'diagnostic'....still not sure I'm using it correctly...) because there's no other way I would submit myself to the torture of biking to and from work. Firstly, it's humid. Hello nasty sweaty body before I even get to said 'battlefield'. Secondly? Tragically, a fellow college program member was killed riding her bicycle to the parks and naturally, that makes me kinda nervous about the practice.
But thus far, my trusty redheaded[maned?] steed Smith (title generously provided by none other than JT) has served me well. Any ungraceful accidents have been the fault of my own inability to balance and steer. I'm sure poor Smithy will throw a tantrum and refuse to budge soon enough. But until then....
I better get some major life points for being all active and dedicated and junk.
Dear Smelly-Dirty-Nasty-Peasants (aka homeless); NO. No, I will not screech to a stop on my bike just to talk to you and let you ask for money for your drugs and other such life-debilitating habits. Sorry.
Dear Small Children; let's go for some common sense and maybe all of you could pick a side of the sidewalk to crowd. Otherwise, Y'ALL IS GETTIN' MOWED OVER.
Dear City Bus; that's right. I got here in the same amount of time. WASSUP!! ...actually, that might not be so awesome as I'm imagining. Hm.
Enter the fighting arena. Nod submissively at shiny metal arch nemesis (don't worry Alex. You're still my #1 enemy) and crack neck. Snap on gloves then facepalm and take them back off. Put on apron first then pull on gloves (ever tried to tie a knot behind your back with sticky plasticy fingers? I didn't think so. Stop judging). Slip on immensely attractive hairnet and face opponent.
Wielding my bottle of Pan Dandy and the superduper power sprayer of death and the scalding hot tub of roiling sickening-yellow water; these pans have NO. HOPE.
Which is pretty darn ironic, if you think about it.
But seriously. I am the Hope-inator in that kitchen. For realzies.
Today was especially epic.
Being a tuesday, in off-season and also a halloween party night (meaning that there's not much to do and then at night there's really nothing to do because only the small food places are open), I was by myself in the pot room. The Lone Obliterator of food scum. No sidekick for Hope (that may or may not be an extremely deep comment....think on that and get back to me). I was blasting my way through everything they threw at me. Piles of pots and stacks of oversized cookie sheets with crusty nasty unidentifiable much burnt on to such a degree, it has quite possibly been fossilized (which I realize is not possible, so before you flip out on me [ahem, Leah Fran--Wrightson] just let me use that word to mean 'THE FOOD IS REALLY STUCK AND HARD'). But nothing the Hope-inator can't handle.
And suddenly! The sudsy bubbles rise up in mutiny and rebellion! They overpower the dishes and begin to sludge over the edge of the sink and extend the very boundaries they have been set in. But like a boss, I aim the power sprayer in their general direction and beat them back with the force of my tiny little water-droplet minions.
Confession: I did in fact, make explosion, "pew-pew" and light saber-esque noises as I forced the bubbles into submission. They surrendered. Obviously. It was inevitable.
And yet! Curse their sneaky dastardly plan. The bubbles were merely a distraction! A coy ploy to fill my head with ego and overconfidence. Now the pot has taken the force of my steaming spray and reflected it back into my eyes, blinding me and weakening my defenses! Plus it's super hot and uncomfortable and I'm pretty sure I will legit go blind because of the soap and food particles and nastiness that is being shoved into my poor eye sockets.
I shake my fist at thee, wretched pot.
(that's me as the warrior of kitchendom...
except my sword is a stream of water.
Imagination people; it's a good thing)
And that is what I do to pass the time at work when I'm bored. My life; dramaticized just for your entertainment. But that's a lie. It's for my own entertainment. I only share it with you because well, I'm dedicated to you guys.
Today was long and boring. And I just really want it to be friday, at least. I mean honestly, life. You could at least do that for me. Make if friday already. That's all I ask for. Sigh.
Fiance, best friend, and previously mentioned #1 arch nemesis are coming into town for a whole TWO days (:D) and we're gonna party it up in the parks cuz I AM LEGIT.
And I admit, about 27% of me is excited for this weekend merely because it means I'll be sleeping in the hotel room they are staying in and THAT means I can take a glorious hot shower!!! Don't judge me until you've gone 3 months without one after living a life generously blessed with hot showers. Then go ahead, I know I'm a wimp and pathetic. But I accept that.
But the other 5billion% of me is excited because um, it's two days with my future-hubby and the bestest friend that I could cry because I miss her so much.
I can't wait to laugh so hard it's ugly.
I can't wait to snort too much, it's annoying.
CanNOT wait to "chonchy chonch" and "whoo-hoo!" and quote all the things no one understands here.
Plus that one kid. He's pretty cool, too ;)
And now it's rounding on 2 am and I have work in 10 hours and the whole 8 hours of sleep is growing on me. I likes me sleeeep.
oh! the title. Yeah, got free cake and cheesecake and bacon at work.
Most awesome job EVAR?
Don't be an imbecile. Of course it is.