Rated "R" For Content

Cover your ears. Close your eyes. And for God's sake, put the children to bed before reading any further.

It should come as no surprise to know that after a very short evening spent with friends from work, that I've come home with one of those I can't believe I'm going to put this down in writing stories to tell.

It all began with a trip to the Vets to pick Emma up this afternoon from her overnight stay. For some odd and unknown reason, the ladies who run the front desk of the animal hospital are severely lacking in speed and efficiency although lucky for them they do make up for it with kindness ... I had planned to pick Emma up and get her home within the time frame of my hour lunch, but as we all know even the best laid plans often go amuck. With the sands of the hourglass near empty, I had little choice but to return to work with Emma in tow for the remainder of the afternoon.

Not a big deal, especially considering that Emma is famous for her afternoon naps. But then again knowing the people I work with, and what happened the last time my cat got called up in conversation a few Christmas dinner/meetings ago, I might have thought better ... I work with morons. Give or take a few.

Jake however is by far the worst culprit. And I'm quite sure that when he finds himself mentioned in this blog, he will be more than pleased about being the cause of an entire post. In a world where a sense of humor is a must, Jake has been over blessed. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times something has come out of his mouth just to provoke controversy or stretch the limit on what can be and should be said. He's all about the shock value.

With Emma safely nestled in her state of the art carrier close to my desk, I watched as Jake got down on his hands and knees to peer inside. And of course, it was at this very moment when Mr. K (who had just arrived for the afternoon meeting) walked by the door to my office. He came to a dead stop. And in his slightly odd pitched voice asked Jake, "Should I ask what you're doing?"

Why I didn't duck and run for cover right then and there I will never know. And trust me when I tell you, I should have known from the mischievous smile on Jake's face that things were about to take a tumble right down into the gutter.

"I'm looking at Stacey's pussy." he said while I turned beat red and Mr. K's eyebrows came close to shooting straight off of his head. I stood up out of my chair, stumbling over my own words as I quickly interjected, "He means me cat! She's in the carrier. I just picked her up from the vet!"

Mr. K - albeit amused - chose to walk away without saying another word.

I took the opportunity to glare at Jake before yelling, "You're such an asshole! I can't believe you just said that!" Jake however was too busy laughing to pay me much heed.

Now one would think that this is where the story would end. And in a normal world filled with normal people this is exactly where the story would end. But as I said earlier, I don't exactly work with normal people ...

On the early shift today, I left at 4:30, giving myself plenty of time to run Emma home, change my clothes, attempt to fix my seriously wind blown hair (I had the windows down enjoying the weather) and meet back up with the gang at the bar by five. Now normally I would mind the fact that I was a few minutes late to a gathering, but when it comes to walking into a bar alone, I like to know my party is already inside and waiting. There's nothing worse than going in alone and having everyone and I do mean everyone stop what they're doing to see who is coming in only to find out that once you're in, your friends aren't there yet ... You feel like a total loser. Well, at least I do in that sort of situation.

Anyhoo everyone was already there (save for Terri who was running a few minutes behind) and already enjoying their beverages. And didn't I just feel like the shiznet to be the only girl in a group of guys ... Mind you, I can keep up with the trash talk when necessary. But when the cat story made its way back into conversation, I was more than ready to become a shrinking violet. Loud enough to draw everyone's attention the story was told, told once more and then told again for the third time with each telling getting louder and louder as the story progressed. When the punchline came and the entire bar was looking in our direction, I could only lean back against the wall and slide down in the direction of the floor as my face went crimson with embarrassment ... It wasn't as if I was going to climb on a bar stool and annouce to the entire happy hour crowd that the pussy in question was a cat and not what everyone else was surely thinking. I could have died ...