Tuesday, December 14, 2010

A brief (or probably long) intermission from hot dog day stories

I have just officially finished the first semester of grad school. Jim Beam and I are going to be very happy together for the next couple of hours. I decided today that it was time for us to move past our rough times...I mean that was what, 10 years ago? I think that we are both adults here and can get along just fine after getting to know a little bit more about ourselves over the years.

That being said, it's time to PARTY!!! I still have work in the morning, so the party won't really start until tomorrow night, but the mental party has already started. And by mental party, of course I mean insanity.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have some private time with Mr. Beam.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Hot Dog Day Part Deux

I've decided that my hot dog day follies are going to become a series. Enjoy part deux. It is my favorite of the series, and I hope it becomes yours too.

You may enjoy part one here

The second hot dog incident was worse than the first one. I was in first grade. Same love for hot dog day, same dumb jumper and knee socks. My class had just finished a rousing game of kickball, when I realized that I really needed to pee. "I better go RIGHT NOW", I thought "Or I won't get a good spot in the hot dog line!" Well, right then, the bell rang. The bell signifying that it was time. Hot dog time, mothafuckers. I happened to be very close to the Almighty Hot Dog Room, and I could see the other kids running at full speed towards me with reckless abandon. I couldn't go pee now. I had made a choice. I was going to be, like, the 3rd person in the hot dog line! That had never happened to me! Oh happy day! I got in line, and noticed that my urge to urinate was becoming a border-line emergency. The hot dog gals were taking FOREVER setting up the stations. I waited for like 5 minutes in line, and then it happened. I peed. In my jumper. In the Hot Dog Room. In line. I immediately ran out before anyone had noticed what had happened and straight to the office.

I didn't want to admit to the office lady that I had peed my pants, but I didn't really have a choice. Time was ticking and the hot dogs were getting cold. I whimpered and looked pathetic and asked to call my mom for a new jumper (it was pretty obvious what had gone down). Now, here's the weird part. Instead of just calling my mom and getting me a fresh pair of undies from home (no, no...that would be TOOOO easy!) the office lady suggested that I try on one of the pairs of underwear that she had "just lying around the office"


There are multiple things that concerned me here. Namely; 1) why the hell were pairs of underwear just LYING around in the school office and B) why were there MULTIPLE pairs?

What the hell?

Even as a 6 year old girl, I knew this was not good. So, being the decent child that I am, I took the 3 pairs of "underwear" into the bathroom and stood there for about 5 minutes to give the illusion that I was trying them on (I wasn't). After enough time had passed I walked back into the office and stated that they simply did not fit and I needed my own underwear and jumper from home. My mom finally came and gave me some new clothes, and I got cleaned up and ready for a fucking hot dog.

And guess what?

Foiled again. No delicious hot dog for Pee-Pants Mcgee. I took it in stride though, I had been through enough that day. I thought this would be the end of my hot dog day problems, but it wasn't.

Sometimes, people just deserve it.
And for those of you who are sick of hearing about hot dog day (I know I am!) go check me out at Mushroom Printing, where I give a tip of the hat to my rodent friends.

Hot Dog Day Part One

When I was a child, we had Hot Dog Day at school. I believe it was a Tuesday (probably one of the reasons I like Tuesdays so much as an adult). Hot dog day was fantastic. You could get hot dogs (duh), chips, chili, and probably some other stuff that didn't matter like drinks and fruit and stuff. But, obviously, the hot dogs and chili were the best. Some bold (read: awesome) kids even got a chili dog, which was like 25 cents extra. I preferred my chili separate.

I would get one hot dog with ketchup and mayo (because I'm a mayonnaise-loving fatty), and a small cup of chili with a dollop of sour cream, chopped onions, and shredded cheddar cheese on top. Oh yeah, those were the days.

But hot dog day wasn't always a good day, my friends. No. It came with it's price.

The first hot dog day incident happened when I was in kindergarten. Since I love food so much, and obviously cannot contain myself to wait in any sort of "line", I ran to the glorious hot dogs as fast as my little legs could go. This resulted in my falling down an entire flight of stairs within the school building. Nobody was around, and surprisingly, I didn't feel that hurt. I got up, dusted off my ugly-ass Catholic school jumper, and ran to the Hot Dog Room (also known as the gym to big kids).

I got in line, my eyes wide at the sight of the delicious hot dogs, only to be startled by the screaming that ensued all around me. Apparently, the fall that I had sustained had been worse than I thought, and not only was I bleeding profusely from both knees, but I tracked puddles of blood into the immaculate Hot Dog Room. The other kindergartners were making a huge fuss so the teacher came over. She took one look at me, blood all over my white button up shirt, jumper, white knee socks, and Keds, took my hand and dragged me straight to the office, where I was promptly cleaned and bandaged up. By the time it was all over, I missed out on hot dog day all together, and had to eat some crappy peanut butter sandwich that one of the hot dog ladies made for me.

I went back to the Hot Dog Room afterward to see if there was possibly one stale or mushy hot dog that didn't get eaten that I could have. No such luck. They were, however, impressed at the amount of blood that they had to clean off of the floor. I was denied any hot dogs until the following Tuesday, and had to stave off my cravings all week. This was my first hot dog day injury, but it certainly wouldn't be my last, oh no sir. The next one would find me in the emergency room. I bet you can't wait to find out why.