Sunday, April 1, 2018

Remember Me?

Once you've been the target/victim of one of my pranks, you won't soon forget me.
 I have a blessing and a curse:  my brain.  
It doesn't shut off.  That hamster is always running the wheel full steam.  On average, I get anywhere between 3-5 hours of sleep per night due to this adorable rodent.  That's a lot of thinking time during those waking hours.  All I need is an idea and it morphs from there. Generally, for me, a subtle and tame idea moves to completely going off the tracks in a relatively short period of time.
April Fool's Day landing on a Sunday AND Easter no less was God's way of playing an April Fool's joke on me.  BUT, I didn't let that damper my resolve to make this day work to serve as my the expense of someone else.
Protests are all the rage right now.  At work, we thought we could throw together some posters and do a mock work protest, take some photos, send it to the boss man on April 1st and call it good.
Then my mind went to going a little off track and doing a video of interviews of why it's so difficult to work there.  Then, going completely off the tracks, it turned into a horror movie trailer:

The sad thing?  He acted those tyrant roles out for me without knowing why I was asking him to do it.  That's trust folks, and says a lot about the kind of human being I am. 
I posted this to our business page this morning letting over 1,000 followers believe we are having a Patient Appreciation Movie Night and this year's movie had been chosen, 'Nightmares On Young Street.'  Oh yeah,  there is no movie, and there is no Patient Appreciation movie night.  😏 That may come back to bite me.
What the general public doesn't know is there is a SECOND video.  This was the uncut interview version, set to a Special News Investigative Report.  This was the one we threatened would go live and viral if he didn't agree to bring us Dutch Bros. this week.  It went over rather well:

Sorry, you will not be seeing the second video if I want to keep my job.  But just know it was EPIC...and in safe keeping.  I'm starting bids at $2,500.  
Happy April Fools!

Thursday, January 19, 2017

2 Heroes and a Ziplock Bag

As I reflect on my life, I've found any interesting stories I have to tell are either:
A.  Run-ins with celebrities.
B.  Disgusting experiences that strip me of any class or dignity.
C.  Self humiliation.
We are going with category B tonight.  As full disclosure; men, this deals with womanly issues so be smart and stop now.  It's not nearly as bad as the Coachella story, but it still took my dignity nonetheless.  If you missed the Coachella fiasco, read it here.
Last weekend while traveling back to Arizona from California, nature began to call.  I had passed Indio and was about 50 miles from Blythe.  There was one rugged gas station I had the opportunity to stop at, but figured I could easily hold it for another 40 minutes. 
Then, the horrible sight of traffic build up appeared ahead.  Ugh!  Always construction!! But it wasn't construction.  We came to a dead stop.  After 20 minutes of idling, I finally turned off my car.  As I watched other drivers get out of their cars to mix and mingle and solve whatever problems were ahead, I decided to take the break and try to enjoy the most of it. 
 Sadly, I was bored after 10 minutes.  I started putting out the text to friends:  "Get on a computer and find me an access road out of here."  
Seriously, super impressed with my friends as they carried themselves like Houston Space Center, as well as the Find Friends app as they located my exact location and proceeded from there.  Unfortunately it didn't get me far.  The consensus was in, I was in the worst location possible. I was literally stuck.  
1 hour in.  My bladder is beginning to knock to get my attention. 
Plan A:  What is it we say to those who have to 'go?'  "Think of a dry, hot desert."  Duh, Jen, open your eyes and look around.  Concentrate!   I had desert, sand, sun, death all around me.  I'm here to tell you, that theory sucks and doesn't work.  
Plan B:  Use a bush.  Have any of you been in the desert?  This is the biggest and best bush you're going to find on that route:

I might as well just squat in the middle of the road.

Now, what I didn't post on social media was that urinating was only half of my issue.  The other issue was it was the second day of my period.  Women, you know what that equates to, right?  I was on the verge of needing a blood transfusion.  Again, using a glorified tumbleweed wasn't discreet enough for the events that needed to transpire.  

Plan C:  Use my 4 door car as a shield as I squat between the front and back door.  Good call. Unfortunately, I was in the left lane.  Cars going west bound still had access to the eye candy and  again, I would've left what looked like road kill on the road.  Plan C, out.

Plan D:  Relying on human kindness.  This would consist of me begging someone to use their RV or motor home bathroom.   As I looked around at my options, I wasn't too optimistic.  Either the RV's were shady and/or their owners appeared to be.

Plan E:  My friend offered me some Red Vines for my drive back.  I denied her twice, yet she insisted and threw them in a Ziplock bag.  That Ziplock was the only thing I could possibly use as a makeshift toilet.  Problem, I had a very curious semi truck driver in the right lane next to me that had been endlessly looking in at me and making creepy eye contact.  Not gonna happen, buddy.  

2 hours in.  I don't know anything else in my body exists besides my bladder.  3 cars ahead of me, a  man has opened his trunk and is serving hard liquor from the bottle.  4 cars decide to go rogue and attempt to drive off the road in search of the side access road (that thanks to my friends I knew only lead to a dead end reservoir); one of the cars gets stuck in sand.  2 cars behind me a woman is arguing with her husband, kids crying in the backseat.  Because of them, I decide to check my rear view mirror more closely.  A few hundred yards back, it's as if the heaven's opened:

She was like an angel, sent just for me. All I needed to do was meet her owners, become BFF's with them in a 5 minute time frame, and plead for their kindness as I reassure them this experience will bond us forever.  I stuck some money in my pocket just in case they already had best friends and I could offer a wad of cash instead. 
 I abandoned my car and made the journey while reciting in my head the many different ways the conversation could go and what my approach would be.
My luck, 2 men in their late 50's early 60's.  Typically the best age I relate with.  They tend to think I'm funny and cute and feel pity for me and I look to them as a father figure so I'm naturally comfortable and needy. 
"Hey guys, you selling tickets for the use of your bathroom yet?"
"Sorry, hon, wish we could. We aren't the owners, we are just paid to transport the thing.  With it being a $400,000 vehicle WE can't even use the bathroom."
UGH!!! None of my scenarios went like this. Back to Plan A.  
Dang it!  Still not working!!
"We've seen some ladies go out to the desert."
"Yeah, where??? There's absolutely no discretion."
"One will usually hold a blanket up for the other."
"Hmm, I have a sunscreen in my car."  (Sounding pathetic, intentionally).
"We have a blanket in here you could use, just have one of your friends hold it for you."
(Not only sounding pathetic, but also trying to lay on the pathetic look).  "Yeah, I could probably find someone to hold it for me."
"Wait, are you all by yourself??"
Quivering lip, and nod of the head.
(Now the conversation turns between the two of them).
"We could probably let her use it, right?"
"I won't tell if you don't."
"We have no power, and it's not hooked up."
"If we had some water, we could dilute it and manually flush it."
"GUYS!! I have a water bottle in my car I could go get!!!"
"OK, she can use it, but she can't tell a soul."
I make the gesture of a zipped lip as I walk back to the car to grab my water. 
While I'm celebrating the fact I'll be relieved, I'm also freaking out about the tampon situation.  I can't leave that in there if they are going to have to get in there and do something manually.  They are going above and beyond to help me out, the last thing I want to do is leave them parts of my uterus to dispose of.  
As I grab my water bottle, I see Red Vine's poking their heads out of my purse as if to say, "Hey, remember us?!?"  I've hit full delusion at this point. The licorice was talking to me. I dump them out in my purse, grab the Ziplock and shove it down my pants.
The guys (my heroes) also managed to dig up some fast food napkins for me to use as toilet paper.
 It was probably one of the best and stressful pees I've ever had.  You have to have the speed of a pit crew to pee quickly without letting a drop of blood land in the water. 
After a successful transaction, I was left with a Ziplock bag full of a murder scene.  Now what?  Where am I going to put this?  Before you go thinking I stashed it in the motor home, come on, people!  Give me more credit.  These men were my heroes, the last thing I was going to do was something that could jeopardize their employment.  I just needed to get the bag to my car where I could throw it in the trunk until a proper place to dispose of it.  So, I shoved it in the waist of my pants, in all it's warmth and glory.  Before I leave, I take a good look around the nicest bathroom I've ever been in on the 10 Freeway, look at myself in the mirror, and pat myself on the back that I lived to survive another day.
2 and a half hours in.  I still haven't made it back to my car.  The men are STILL talking to me.  One is a retired cop and at least knows the details of why we're stopped...police chase turned police shootout just a mile up the road.  I can't concentrate on a conversation. I'm trying to strategically hold the bag with my body so it doesn't slide down or out.  
3 hours in.  Police helicopters overhead announce traffic will be moving again.
I proceed to give the men a hug before I rush back to my car.  Meanwhile,  unaware that my shirt had been caught up in a portion of my pants,  exposing the Ziplock bag all along. 
Morale of the story:  Just stop in Indio and use the restroom, use problem solving skills--preferably before going on a trip by yourself, stranger danger doesn't exist in these situations, Ziplock bags save lives, and always and forever, human kindness exists.