Do you ever feel like co-workers find you boring/average but that’s because they just don’t know the real you? Let’s talk about it! via Professional Versus Unprofessional – Hot Mess Memoir
I’ve made a list of 9 jobs that I find positively horrible, if one were to go on a job hunt. Might be great for you, not for me. Click and read via 9 Horrible, Terrifying, Crappy Jobs – Hot Mess Memoir
Just a funny meme to make your Monday a little brighter! via Just a Monday Morning Meme – Hot Mess Memoir
I wrote this post after watching a parody of someone not using exclamation points and how the email receiver took complete offense to it! Read via Do Exclamation Points Matter in Emails? – Hot Mess Memoir
So as some of you may or may not have seen, I put a challenge on my blog yesterday to guess what this was:
I learned yesterday that this is a semen tank. Yes, semen tank. Try to push the vomit back down your throat, I’ll wait. These tanks were all over the place and ranged in size.
So last year I took a job at a globally recognized Western company. You can find an excerpt of this here at The Shameful Sheep. Me working there makes about as much sense as the Noble Peace Prize ceremony being moved to North Korea.
So yesterday my boss wanted me to see what the Beef Expo is like since our company sponsored it. I kinda’ knew what I was in for but I was clearly ignorant.
The first thing I noticed was the delicious smell of burgers when I opened up my door at Beef Expo. Despite having eaten already, I inhaled this delicious smell then stopped when I thought, ‘Aren’t the cows gagging, smelling their brothers and sisters on the grill? Couldn’t we have opted for chicken, just this once?
“Oh my God, they took Elsa!” I could see a cow exclaiming as her BFF is seen going into a food truck back door.
We walked into the building hosting the event and walked past a “queen.” Unfortunately it wasn’t a drag queen but a slopy, overweight teenager with a crown. Was this the Beef Queen?
Apparently we were there to shop too because my boss decide to weave in and out of the little shops set up. The shops offered clothing and home decorative goods that said things like I LOVE MY COW and THERES NOTHING LIKE SHOWING. I found these shops about as interesting as the lumber aisle of Lowes.
There is just 1 other co-worker that is just like me in knowing 0 about horses, cows, farms, etc. She innocently asked,
“What are these tanks I see everyone walking around with?” She pointed her finger at a few attendees dragging what looked to be gas tanks on wheels behind them.
“Semen tanks,” my boss answered like she was telling her the date.
‘Come again?’ I thought.
I could feel nausea growing in my stomach. These people were rolling the semen tanks around as if they were rolling their carry on through the terminal. Could we have found a more viable option, like keeping that shit to yourself and not bringing it out in public?
Still in shock, I had to know the logistics here without completely alienating myself. I had to choose my words carefully. I leaned over quietly to my co-worker.
“So these semen tanks, they just walk around and plug them into a hef….girl cow?” I had officially shown not only my ignorance but forgot if a heifer was just a girl cow or if there are boy heifers too. Or maybe there are cows out there confused with their identity and were born a boy cow but became a heifer? I don’t know.
As we entered another cow-centric pop up shop there was a man wheeling the average size tank. I whipped out my phone and took the picture you see above.
After about 30 minutes of browsing, well let’s be real here, me standing outside each shop with my jaw on the ground, taking in this completely different culture, we walked back outside. I thought we were going to the car.
Nope, this was just the beginning. Across from the building we came out of, there was a gigantic barn. From the sounds, there was a cow party happening. I looked over to see a couple holding a cow by a harness thingy. The cow was chewing slowly, drooling and seemed to be staring right at me like, “welcome to my world bitch.”
In lieu of making a hard left for the parking lot, our path veered towards the barn.
“You guys wanna’ go visit Sarah?” A co-worker asked.
‘No, not really.’ I thought.
Unfortunately, I was voted down and we would be heading into the barn.
Fortunately I was not given a heads up about this field trip we took so I chose to wore little fringed, untreated suede booties that I bought for $100. The $100 was at cost if that tells you anything about the shoes I would be ruining momentarily.
As we crossed over the threshold, the walkway was not concrete or grass or paved in gold. No. The walkway, was covered in what looked to be mulch and feces. An old cowboy crossed my path holding a heavy pitchfork of what I could only assume was shit. I found about a 3”, semi clear path on each side of the shit trail and opted to walk there like I was on a balance beam.
‘If a cow lifts up it’s hind leg and pisses on my Louis Vuitton, I am going to lose my shit,’ was my first thought. If cows were capable of producing enough semen to fill a gas tank, who knows how projectile their piss could be.
We went up a cow aisle and found Sarah in front of a black cow. Her friend had some sort of comb and was combing the cow’s ass.
Across from Sarah’s steak were 3 other HUGE black cows. I mean, they had to either be pregnant or fat in cow world.
“How old are those cows?” I asked jetting my chin out, attempting to fit in.
“Bout 10 months,” Sarah’s friend answered.
“Their date of birth is above,” my co-worker said as she pointed to a white sign, 7’ above in a “duh” kind of tone. Oh I’m sorry, my childhood wasn’t spent milking cows, sorry for my ignorance I share with the other 97% of Americans.
Just then I hear a hose begin to gush water. I turn my head back to Sarah’s cow and notice it’s not a hose but the cow next door has taken the liberty to piss a cow made lake. ‘Your gonna’ have to sleep in that,’ is what I wanted to tell the cow. I’ve never seen a cow dick before but this must have been it because there was a long, hairy hose hanging from the cow, with a pink rim; like those disgusting monkey asses.
By now my co-workers were petting Sarahs cow’s behind. I wondered if cows were like donkeys or horses and kick people behind them? I had visions of taking my co-workers to the ER with hoof marks on their foreheads.
Surprisingly, I too had the sudden urge to pet the cow. The black fur looked so fuzzy. I deduced that this was the onset of insanity due to the situation. To be a fly on a cow’s ass and see the look that must have been on my face this entire time was probably priceless.
‘Must not pet cow…must not…..resist……ok petting cow now….hey cow soft. Ok, I’m done.’
So how was your Friday? Did you see any semen tanks? Did you walk through shit? Did you pet a cow?
A well written piece on blogging and our real motivation for it. Learn it, know it, love it!!!
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I didn’t realize what a hot mess my morning commute had become till I looked down on my lap this morning to find this:
I have a 40 minute commute to work each day and I hate that any time goes towards it. To counter this, I use this time to apply makeup, eat breakfast and lastly catch up on my audible book. I know, I know…not safe. I only do the makeup thing when traffic is at a complete standstill (everyday) or I’m at a red light.
I was putting on my makeup at the stop light when I noticed 2 kids starring at me in the school bus in front of me. I was furiously rubbing my face attempting to get my foundation to blend in. One of the teens tapped another kid and pointed at me. I suddenly realized they were mildly making fun of my makeup regime.
Frustrated, I did the ununiversal sign for this is you in 20 years by circling my index finger around my face, pointing to myself then them. Laugh now but they will understand all of this in a few decades. The light turned green before they registered my ridiculous hand signals.
When I listen to my music in the car, I dance like no one is watching which is really quiet the opposite of what is happening. Sometimes I don’t think I can get any more of a mess; listening to Bang Bang with my earphones in, drinking Starbucks, while applying MAC blush and singing at the top of my lungs a song that clearly was not designed for my musical range or lack thereof.
So what does your commute look like? Do you have one? If not, I hate you.
I don’t work in a horrible part of town, at least I would like to think it is an “up-and-coming” neighborhood which is hipster speak for “I really can’t afford where all my other hipster friends live so I’m going to live in this shit hole neighborhood and call it up-and-coming.
You want to know an easy way to determine if it’s up-and-coming? Count how many rainbow flags that are hanging. If there’s more than five it’s up and coming, if there’s only one, it’s too early to tell and you better just wait a few more months. My sister lives only 1 mile away from my work and when she first told me where her new house was and the first time I turned onto her street, I was in awe of how seedy a neighborhood she had selected.
Even the first day was a hot mess. As we were helping her move in, a police van drove up, police got out and with a bullhorn, one of the policemen started shouting at a man running for his life to “stop and get on the ground”. Terrified, I looked over at my sister who had a look of terror in her eyes too. Her ‘what the hell have I gotten myself into’ look was was written all over her face.
After a day of unpacking, I kissed her goodbye and drove away. As I drove up the street, I saw not one, not three, but eight rainbow flags gently dancing in the wind. Suddenly I knew she was going to be okay. She was going to be alright.
Fast forward to last night when I was promptly leaving work in time to get home for my husband’s coaches meeting. There is a retail store that sits at the entrance of our compound while the offices sit farther back in another building. Just as I put my car in reverse, a police van rolled up and parked in the middle of the parking lot in front of the retail store.
My first thought was, ‘Hey ass hole, this is worst then parking in a handy cap. Move your damn van. You think you have special rights or something?’ My thoughts were quickly dismissed when 2 officers jumped out with their GUNS pulled!!! GUNS people….guns.
I get that I work for a Western company and they’re all into shoot outs and cowboys and the wild wild West, but clearly this is not the place nor the time for a shoot out. I have never seen police pull their guns out. I even stared at them making sure it wasn’t a walkie-talkie, a 1995 cell phone or a flashlight. No, it was the real deal. They were holding their guns and prepared to shoot. I was officially flipping out by now.
As I drove away completely staring at them, I caught the eye of one of the officers. He gave me a “you better not tip them off or I’ll come looking for you” look.
Roger that, I was out of there. As I pulled away they continued to hold their guns while entering the store. By now, I had visions similar to a bank robbery. I nervously reached for my cell phone and called my coworker to see what was going on.
She answered on the second ring.
“Uh, this is going to sound really weird and I shit you not but there is a police van, andddd,” I was struggled to get the words out. “They have their guns pulled going into the store.”
Her reaction was half what I expected and the other half was unexpected as she seemed to act like this has happened before.
“Ok I’ll notify someone,” she said as if she had to come to a door to let someone on.
I began to rack my brain as to why police would have pulled guns and what the danger could possibly be. I began to make a mental list of all the people I knew that worked in the store and who seemed most likely to be running from the law. Sadly more than one person crossed my mind.
I waited and waited and waited for a call back from my co-worker. I had text her to tell her to call me the minute she finds out what happened.
So was there an old fashion shoot out? No. The reason is beyond stupid and I’m embarrassed to tell you. I wish I had a better ending. After impatiently waiting for 10 minutes, I got the following text:
Have you heard of this? Police drawing their guns due to a panic button being pressed? In my mind a twenty something guy wearing his best American Eagle polo and khakis, named Tim is at a call center. Tim calls the store to confirm there is an emergency then things progress as needed. Obviously I was wrong.
I guess this is the price you pay for working in an up-and-coming neighborhood.
When I walked in on this today I had the same indifferent feeling I had in my 8th week of living in NYC when a 3″ cockroach tried unsuccessfully to scale my bathtub. The gigantic buck head (that’s what their called right?) came along with the territory and didn’t really phase me. Hell….it’s worth the picture just to share with you guys!