Finger lickin' good
Posted @ 8:50 p.m. on 2006-01-03
Today was just another day at work. I got to go in a little late due to a Viral nasty that was passes from someone else’s kids and yadda-yadda. SO I went in to work around 7:30. I did the typical work thing…..you know….work. Just when I thought that today was going to pass with out any major catastrophes….I get word of an urinalysis.
OH BOY! I LOVE PEEING IN A LITTLE BOTTLE WHILE SOME DUDE WATCHES!!! YAY!!!
Needless to say I was far from overjoyed. I don’t do any kind of drugs unless sex is a drug. In that case they can cart me off to rehab because I am hooked! WOOOO. The other reason for my excitement about the pee test was that no more that 10 minutes before I was told, I pissed like a race horse.
If you have never seen a race horse pee then you are missing out. They pee and pee and pee……and then pee some more. It is a sight to behold.
So now I am downing bottles of water so I’ll be able to pee and not be labeled as having “performance anxiety”. You see, there is a well known fact that when the word gets passed that something like this is going to happen, It usually happens 30 minutes later.
After finishing my third bottle of water I feel the urge to go. I get in line and wait for the “Verifier” (the guy who watches you pee on your hand and pretends to not notice) to tell me to inspect my pee-bottle and hold it over my right shoulder. We go walking down the hall to the pissers, me with my bottle in the air, and him with his wondering eyes. So I say to the guy “I hope I’m not the first one with performance anxiety today”. The Verifier says “yep, you’d be the first, but I don’t think you are going to have a problem. If you can’t piss then I am going to shove a metal rod in you ass until you do”.
Now imagine, if you will the shocked and slightly worried look on my face….until he said as he chuckled that he was just kidding. I felt a little better but still a little freaked.
I finished filling the cup and proceeded to wash my hands. To my amazement there were no paper towels to dry my hands with. I elected to use this to my advantage. Upon returning the bottle to its respective place, carrying it over my right shoulder and admiring the amber coloring, I looked at a co-worker and proceeded to lick my fingers on my left hand. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at me. I then began to groan ever so quietly and stare each one of them down. The only verbal response I got was: “Dude, that’s sick”. I then finished the paperwork involved and let everyone know that I had washed my hands and that my left hand never came in contact with the bottle after washing.
If I had a camera, those faces would have been worth millions.