Fun with lists!

Hi all! it's been a while since I've blogged, and I've leaned heavily on Chad to keep all the gaps filled-in, but I just started a new job, which brings me to my list of today: jobs I have held...

1. Carnie
2. Grocery boy
3. Applebee's host
4. Grocery night stalker
5. Warehouseman
6. Tire buster
7. Real estate admin
8. Barista (thanks to you Chad)
9. Car salesman
10. Barista at Braun's bar and grill
11. Sam's Club - gas station attendant, electronics sales, and tire busting
12. Sofa Mart - warehouse, routing delivery trucks and delivery driver
13. Race car parts fabricator
14. High-end sculpture awards fabricator
15. Orthodontic Product Designer
16. Real estate admin (calling all those who were in foreclosure)
17. Freelance designer/fabricator
18. Home Depot flooring associate
19. Master Artist at a mannequin manufacturer
20. Warranty department lead

I also have done my fair share of freelance fabrication and repair, and I also helped fix and flip a house. And I suppose you could count 'musician' in there somewhere...

What you got for job lists?

Not itching like a dirty ho no mo'

I'm cancer free . . .

Hooray!

But I'm still not . . . erm . . . 'pre-cancer' free?

I don't exactly know what it means either. I have "pre-cancer".

Here's an idea: if there are people out there with the ability to tell what will some day be cancer. Why the fuck aren't they scanning the masses when they're babies?

Anyway. Pre-cancer schmancer. What I'M more upset about is having to deal with the Dream Team again.

Lets look back, okie?

I had two chunks of skin with suspected melanoma corkscrewed out of me and stitched up.

The Dream Team called me and said "Yeah. . . We need to corkscrew out more. But this time we're using a much bigger corkscrew. So . . . let's make you an appointment!"

I made an appointment.

For yesterday morning.

To have BIGGER chunks taken out.

Nurse: Good morning, Chad. It looks like we're going to be taking your stitches out today.

Me: Yep.

Nurse: And it looks like we need to schedule an excision.

Me: Actually, that's supposed to be today.

Nurse: No

Me: Yes

Nurse: No - it says here that you're scheduled to have stitches removed.

Me: Yeah. Stitches . . . and the hunk of meat they're sewn in to.

Nurse: Yeah, actually [Dr Awkward Touch] likes to do surgery later in the morning.

Me: Why does that matter? Is he eating it for lunch?

Nurse: That's funny.

Me: So I have to schedule ANOTHER appointment?

Nurse: Yeah. But the front desk (the Dream Team) will help you out with that!

Me: How about instead of sending me to the front desk staff you just blindfold me and start hitting me with a stick.

Nurse: Haha! Now lets get those stitches out!

Chad: (eyes rolling wildly) okay.

Nurse: Ooh! These have healed nicely!

Chad: Good.

Nurse: Yeah! The skin has even started to heal over the stitches! I'm going to have to dig them out!

This is when I revealed my secret weapon. (Yelling)

Chad: Wipe that stupid smile off your face! If you act cheerful about digging stitches out of me (without painkillers!) I'm going to leave. (And I'll be slashing all of your tires)

She shut up and went to work with what I think was a pair of cuticle scissors. The fact that she didn't appear to know how to handle them should've been apparent by the shape of her cuticles. She had the hands of a disabled welder.

Now - in pain - I was sent to the Dream Team to ONCE AGAIN schedule my excisions.

Instead of recounting my experience with them for you, just stick your head in the refrigerator and slam the door a couple of times. You'll get the idea . . .

Now I have a new appointment on Thursday. Which means that my stitches need to come out sometime when I'm in Prague.

Matt promised to take them out for me.

I better remind him to pack some scissors and an ice pick.

Itching like a dirty dirty whore

Recently I went into a dermatologist's office to have some 'suspicious moles' looked at as recommended by my friend Natalie.

Actually my friend Natalie, an oncology nurse, didn't exactly say I should have them looked at. We were in Mississippi (read: drinking heavily in the deep South) when she starting scanning our friend, Heather and myself.

"Jezzussshh! Youu sshould reaally have thozze looked attth!"

With advice like this I could've said I wasn't concerned, but I'd risk drunk Natalie trying to scoop them out with a potato peeler and some vodka. So I just promised I would.

"Ohhh Naaataliiieee. Offf coouuursshe I willl . . . "

This is how I found myself in Denver Dermatology at 11:45 when my appointment was scheduled for 11:00. Keep in mind this is a dermatology office. Not an emergency triage. There wasn't a line ahead of me. I was the only person IN the waiting room. Well . . . eventually a burly woman who I referred to as "Clark" in my own head arrived around 11:15. When Clark was brought back after a 10 minute wait it occurred to me that the front desk staff - who I have dubbed "The Dream Team" - forgot about me. How the FUCK you forget about someone who is sitting RIGHT in FRONT of you is beyond me.

Anyway. . .

An hour after I arrived I was brought back and given a body scan (humiliating) and then had 2 punch biopsies taken. Martha accompanied me to the dermatologist's office for A) morale support and B) her credit card because I? decided to cancel my health insurance to pay for my gym membership (which I no longer go to). While I'm being given the local anesthetic Martha strikes up a conversation with my medical assistant, Yolanda. They were cooing over the pros and cons of getting your eyebrows tattooed (slightly less humiliating).

Did I take pictures of me getting my body scanned by doctor awkward touch? Yes. Did I send them to Natalie AND Matt? Yes.

Doctor Awkward Touch and Sharpie Eyebrow Yolanda stitched me up after removing two pieces of my chest meat that looked like bloody cigarette butts. So now I have to reschedule a time to have the stitches removed.

Back at the front desk the Dream Team is trying to reschedule me. I have 3 days off every week and they're all weekdays. It shouldn't be that hard.

"Yeah." Miss Dream Team smacked her gum while talking "It's going to be hard. Because you have to come in two weeks from now to have your stitches out so the skin doesn't overgrow."

Okay. I can do any Monday, Thursday, or Friday. Just pick a day and I will be here.

"Yeah. Ummm . . . but nobody's going to be in the office because of labor day so we can't do Monday."

Be that as it may - I gave you a window that represents 60% of your business hours. You can find a space.

"Yeah. I'm going to have to check with my office manager because nobody's going to be here. Because of Labor Day."

Labor day is in ONE week. So when I come back in TWO WEEKS it shouldn't matter. Unless, of course you people get like 10 days off for labor day.

"Shoot." Blowing bubbles with her gum. "Did I get the wrong week?"

**********

So today when I got a message from Miss Dream Team saying that my biopsy showed abnormal cells I needed to schedule a biopsy.

I swear to God. I will kill this girl.

I know these cells were 'abnormal' hence the BIOPSY that you're calling with the results to. The results, I might add, that you have yet to give. Did I hear cancer or cancer free come out of your gum smacking mouth? Not yet!

So now I have scheduled a biopsy to see if there's any danger in the cells that they found abnormalities on in my first biopsy.

Does your head hurt yet?

If it's any consolation, that's nothing compared to how Miss Dream Team's head will hurt after I hit it with my shoe until bubbleyum starts leaking out of her ears.

AND my stitches itch so bad I'm sure that people at work think I have scabies. (the humiliation just doesn't stop.)

"Get Judgey"? Done and DONE.

I'm sitting in a booth inside California Pizza Kitchen with Josheleh when I spy my friend Ana walk past outside. We wave -she comes in to say hi. Then she introduces me to the guy she's with (Edwin? Eggbert? Whatever.)

Anyway. Ana at one point had told my sister that after dancing with me one night she felt she needed to take a pregnancy test. Haha. Love it.

So what do I blurt out at Ana immediately after introductions?

"Hey Ana, ever get that PERIOD?"

Hahahahaha. I am so hilarious.

At least that's totally how I feel until I get a message from Ana on Facebook titled "Get Judgey"

So - nerdy or not, this guy scores major points because A) his disdain for flip-flops and B) totally making Ana look like top shelf goods just by comparison. (But mostly A, people. Mostly A)