I think it ironic that so many thought Friday the 13th to be unlucky last week. Especially when you consider how f*cked up today has been. For yours truly, anyway.
Nothing too out of the ordinary in the beginning. Saskatoon is finally experiencing the deep frrrreeezing c-cold that we usually get this time of year. A far cry from the unseasonable temperatures last week and the weeks preceding it. I can't recall the exact number, but the temperature this morning, when I got up was around -35 degrees Celsius, which is roughly -31F, but really when you get down that low, whether you understand metric or standard temperatures, what it boils down to is, it's really f*cking cold. That was the temperature before the wind chill, which according to the radio was about -49C.
I've experienced worse, so I'm not one to complain too much about the weather. Especially hailing from Saskatchewan where the temperature guage can fluctuate like a motherf*cker! I remember one New Years Day, when the mid-day temperature reached a balmy plus two degrees Celsius (35F) and by 5pm that same day the mercury dipped to -35C. Brrr.
I awoke at the usual time, this morning. Too late to have breakfast or anything, but early enough to make it in to work in the nick of time. I sat up in bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes and fantasized about phoning in sick. That would be a douche bag move and wouldn't be fair to the other half of the employee at work. (There's only two of us.)
Everything at work was just fine. Another run-of-the-mill days. The usual ups and downs. Phone calls from customers demanding this and that, and one particular animated manager from our Winnipeg office, which my co-worker nipped in the bud quickly. I tackled some of the assemblies I've been addressing the past couple of days and continued to do so until lunch time. That's when the fit hit the shan.
We got in a shipment from South Carolina, which was damaged. The box had a hole in it and instead of the five items we were supposed to get, one was lost through the gaping hole in the box. A $300-plus piece of merchandise lost, somewhere between Easley, SC and Saskatoon, SK. F*ck!
So I got the privilege of getting on the phone with the "customer service" of the courier company, (who shall remain nameless, but rest assured, it's the one that gives it to ya in the brown, if you know what I mean - double entendre intended). The U.S. branch was f*cking useless, so I turned to the Canadian side, which was much more hospitable, but the situation wasn't improved upon by very much. F*ck f*ck!
So while waiting for a call back from those "kind" folks, I fielded another call while my co-worker was busy getting his ass chewed out by some douche-bag-asshole from one of the companies that we unfortunately have to service. While doing so, I felt a drip from my nose. I thought, for a brief second, "Shit. My nose is running." I soon discovered that it was not mucus running from my nose. I now had a nose bleed, while speaking on the phone with my customer. I tried to get the co-workers attention, but he was staring into space, still getting yelled at about some situation that was out of our control anyway. (Sometimes I think assholes just like to yell to make themselves feel better about being inadequate.)
So now here I am. Phone in one hand, tissue in the other, and struggling to find a way to use my pen to take notes. Thankfully, there was a lull in the conversation long enough for me to twist up the bloodied tissue and anchor it into my right nostril. I now had a freed up hand to take notes, although I looked like Ricky in the episode of Trailer Park Boys when he had the model truck glued to one hand and a rag glued to his nose. (F*ck me, that was a funny episode.)
Eventually the day calmed down. The dozen or so fires put out. My co-worker left work to get ready for church tonight. His Ukrainian heritage seems to celebrate a f*ck-of-a-lot of Christmas'. This is the third one, by my count. I thought it was a made up holiday, but when I pressed him to admit that it was made up, he got huffy and ignored me. Three Christmas'....
Soon after he left, I received another phone call. This time it was from the body shop where my truck's been since last Friday. I was informed that my truck was done and I could pick it up. I was so happy. The Honda Civic that I had was nice, but I love love LOVE my truck and I couldn't get to the body shop quick enough. I got my baby back. The silver-lining to an otherwise craptacular day.
I came home. I played with my cat for a little bit. Watched the Chelsea Lately that I'd taped the night before. (Yes. I still tape shit on a VCR. I get teased about that shit all the time, but so f*cking what.) Then when it came time to make supper, I flaked out and decided to have hot dogs and onion rings, instead of the tasty pork loin I'd originally planned on having... I should've stuck with my original plan.
Throughout much of my adult life, I've had troubles with my throat. It seems narrow in comparison to other people's. My neck doesn't appear any smaller than normal. In fact, I would venture to say that it's quite a thick neck. Wearing collared shirts, for me, is tough as I am unable to find a lot of shirts that will button up at the top, because of how thick my neck is. The inner workings, however are another story. While normal people might have a "wide mouth mason" of a throat, mine could be compared more like a "bottle neck". Wide, wide, wide, then collapses into a narrow channel. While it is advised that people should chew their food at least 30x before swallowing, I have to chew my food far far more. Sometimes, however, things still get lodged in my throat. This has happened, like I said, a number of times. Usually so bad that I need to visit a hospital to have it dislodged. This is never a fun ordeal, as you can imagine.
Once it occurred in a restaurant with my friend Dan, who had to follow me into the men's room when I fled the table in a panic. He gave me the Heimlich Maneuver, which was a little funny as, if someone had walked into the washroom at that particular time, it might have appeared that he was raping me in the ass. Another similar event occurred at a friends house, when I got a piece of (albeit tasty) pork lodged in my throat. My friend was letting his car warm up (in the cool winter night), but in the meantime I was leaning over the trunk of his car, continuing to attempt to remove the rogue object on my own. Garry, attempting to help, began slapping me on the back. I never saw the technique he was using, but according to his wife, he was getting some hip action in there and once more, it appeared that I was getting "it" in the dumper.
To dislodge the morsels, doctors have taken to using a scope of some sort. The device is long and thin, with a camera on the end. In reality, it is only about a 1/4" thick, but when they're ramming that f*cker down your throat, it feels more like a garden hose. I cannot stand anything going down my throat in such a violent nature. Despite there being freezing used, it hurts like a motherf*cker!!! Like someone shoving a splintery wooden handle from a pitch fork, down your throat. I've gained a lot of respect for women, because of this terrible experience. This terrible experience also solidifies the fact that I could never be gay. That and my allergy to nuts.
Long story short.., too late! I chose the hot dogs and onion rings over the pork loin, which was a stupid stupid mistake. I managed to eat a couple of hot dogs and about a half dozen onion rings before I felt that ever familiar feeling. The inability to swallow. Like a "literal" frog in my throat, I now go into survivor mode, escaping once more to the bathroom, in an attempt to dislodge the culprit. The natural tendency is to continue to swallow, hoping that it'll pass through. This works for most people, but I'm not most people. I have to be f*cking unique, and when I continue to swallow, this just lodges it in tighter and tighter. Then to add insult to injury, as I'm leaning over the toilet, I see droplets of blood dripping into the bowl. Soon my nose is covered in crimson and it's draining into the jaded pool. "Can this day get any f*cking worse?" Seconds later, the toilet's flush handle breaks into two pieces... The handle in my hand, the other half inside the bowl. I hear a light 'tink' as it sinks to the bottom. F*ck f*ck f*ckity f*ck!!
It's been a couple of hours since the small piece of hot dog got lodged in my throat. I've tried every trick I know to try and bring it up, but to no avail. If it doesn't come loose soon, I may have to make a trip to the hospital. Although I don't know what they can do for me there, this late in the evening. I may have to tough it out until morning, which then f*cks the whole day away, leaving my co-worker overworked and over-stressed. If I could just get a good burp, I know I could dislodge this f*cker. Unfortunately, when this occurs, I'm unable to swallow anything. Including my own saliva, which seems to accumulate faster and more abundantly when I'm choking. What a shitty f*cked up life I lead. Everything looks rosy on the outside, but inside... Things are uber-f*cked!
A friend from years past celebrated his birthday today. I don't know how old he is, nor do I care. But I sure hope his day was a lot more enjoyable than mine was. I just want to go to bed, but unfortunately, if I lay my head back, there's a good chance I could die, like John Merrick. Except I'd leave a much handsomer corpse, cuz I am a sexy bitch!!!
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