What is the distance of a 20 minute drive into downtown Toronto very rarely takes less then 2 hours during the morning commute. There is very little to do while slowing watching your life slip from your grasp as you sit in this horrible traffic; I tend to amuse myself by thinking up stories about the other drivers, or I try and see what they’re doing to distract themselves from the mind numbingly slow pace of commuter rush hour traffic.
I tend to get creative (some would call it disturbing) when I think up stories; like the man the other day in the car with the license plate “IDODIRT” Wow. What the fuck were you think when you picked that one buddy?

The days that my mind just won’t think; the days that I am stuck behind some ass that decided to rear end someone, the ass that wouldn’t pull off to the side of the road when their car broke down, I tend to be a little (more) crude and a little lot more pretentious.

I caught myself earlier this week thinking some atrocious things about some of my fellow citizens; it didn’t matter who - different races, different sexes, different age categories. I caught myself being very judicious of a lot of people. I couldn’t believe that I was so harsh. Me, the thoughtful, loving, and always so mindful person was really so horrible and callous - a huge bitch! I didn’t realize how boorish I am, until I took a step back and thought about what I was thinking.

I promised myself I was going to change my outlook. I would be more positive and not so judgmental.

Today, we were driving home from picking Carter up at daycare. It was our green light, we were going straight. Then out of nowhere, a car comes through the intersection to make a left hand turn in front of our car. I thought for sure we were about to have a serious accident; either we T-bone this car or we get severely rear-ended. Luckily Mike’s quick skills averted an accident completely.
As we drive up beside the car, Mike’s cursing and swearing ready to just tear a stripe off this inconsiderate and very dangerous driver. I look over. It’s an elderly lady, not a care in the world - didn’t even realize what could of happened.

What comes out of my mouth but, “That crazy fuckin’ dig-bat! That degenerate geriatric should not have a license. She’s going to fucking kill someone! Fucksakes!”

*ahem* So maybe I’ll start being on my best behaviour - tomorrow.

Remember waaaay back here when I mentioned that I was writing a paper for a HUGE technical symposium for work? You don’t have to pretend, I know you don’t.

Well, I found out today that my paper was accepted! I can’t believe it! I am so nervous/excited/scared/worried. I’m not sure where to go from here; I don’t know where to start or what to do first. I haven’t even been working on anything because I thought that it would be denied. I have TONS of research to do and so many hours of writing. My mind is boggled.

I’m going to be a published writer.

Who would have thunk it? Moi? A writer.

MamaTulip wanted to hear about my battery operated toothbrush. I believe she even mentioned the word dild0 in her request. Pfft. What a pervert. I found it odd that this what part of her request, but reminded me of one of my business trips….

I enjoy brushing my teeth as much as the next person but I have a new found lust for it since getting my electric toothbrush. Now, it’s not one of those fancy Sonic Care toothbrushes, which I wouldn’t mind; it’s just one of those cheap Oral B. This thing is what dreams are made of. I could never, never return to using a “manual” toothbrush. It’s manual, but with less work. The head spins and cleans better then any regular shitty toothbrush. Anyone unknowing would definitely mistake the sound and vibration for a dildo.

I know this because…

I was on a business trip in September 2004. From Toronto to Virginia for a month. Pack my shit and away we go. Trip there was uneventful; get to the rented mini van and load up my stuff in the back. Take a short trip from DC to Maryland to pick up some equipment. There’s me, my boss and some guy from France that I’d never met but was to stay and work with me for the entire month. Great. Fine. So in Maryland we load up our equipment from the office which required some shuffling of the luggage in the back. No biggie. Right? *Ahem*

The guys are shuffling some stuff around and I come walking back to the van with my arms full of computer hardware, what exactly is not important. I get to the van and my boss turns towards me and diverts his eyes very quickly. Huh? What the fuck was that about? He then looks down at the ground, up at the sky, to his left. “There’s something going off in your luggage.” He says and quickly makes a dash for the building. There I stand dumbfounded as to what the fuck he’s talking about. I take my time and load the shit I was carrying and walk over to my bag thinking that he’s seriously got to lay off the crack. What the hell could be going off in my fuckin’ bag? I touch it. It’s vibrating. It’s fucking vibrating. *sigh* Je-sus. I know what it is.

My damn toothbrush. I hadn’t taken the batteries out before I packed it and with the shuffling something must have depressed the button. I think he was more embarrassed then I was; all I could do was laugh. I pulled it out to prove to him that it was in fact my toothbrush and not some sex toy that I planned on getting freaky with while I was away from hubby!

You’d think I’d learn my lesson after that? Oh, no. Not this one.

So, I’m in the airport on my way home at the end of the trip. Check my luggage in Dulles Airport and think nothing of it. Send it through the security check points, x rays, etc., and I’m on my way home.
Get back to Toronto and head to the baggage department. Wait for everything to unload; everything does, but my bag. Fuck! Where the hell is my bag!? I walk around, check other spots and then go to the baggage claim counter and ask. The bitch there doesn’t even look up and points to where the unclaimed bags are stored. I walk over wondering how it would be there if I just arrived here. Whatever.
But low and behold, there it is. With bright orange tape around it and a sticker that says “INSPECTED”. I grab my bag and head off; feeling a little violated and wondering, Why me? What made you want to search my bag?

I get home, still pondering the reasons that they chose MY bag.

As I open my bag, it hits me. There IT is, sitting on top of everything else, opened and batteries removed.

My dildo toothbrush went off in my bag again!

I can just imagine the inspector that had to check for that! A big sigh of relief must have washed over them when they realized that it was in fact a toothbrush and not a sex toy.

A prelude to this post was entered in my Thursday Thirteen for today. I had been struggling with this post for a while; for what reason, I am really not sure. It’s not that bad, just annoying, disgusting, whatever.. nothing we can’t handle, right?

So. I’ve mentioned before what I do for a living. Too lazy to click the link and read? For the most part, I do inspections on construction sites. You can imagine the crass, sexist, and disgusting conversations I get to be apart of. It’s not all bad really. Some men are very polite, really helpful and sometimes protective. Others? Disgusting. Sexist. Rude. Assholes. I can handle the cat calls and comments (which are few and far between these days because men have become very sensitive to the possibility of sexual harassment charges; I’m sure they think I would nail their balls to the wall).

I avoid the porta- potties, I don’t go in their trailers very often and I socialize with the few that I have known for years. I don’t want to step on any toes so to speak; I know there are still some people that are just not comfortable with the thought of women on construction sites.

But the one thing that I really find horrible? And it’s truly not even that offensive; pissing on site.
There are washrooms provided on site. Every site. It’s the law. But for some reason these construction workers ie: crane operators, drillers, backhoe operators, dump truck drivers, etc. feel the need to whip out their member and piss near their machinery! WTF? Oh, and if they see me there, they don’t change their mind and walk to the washroom - they move to the other side of the machine! *roll eyes*
I think today alone there were four dump truck drivers that just whipped out their dicks and pissed on the side of their dump trucks, two drillers that crammed themselves into a little space between the machine and the wall and pissed, and one guy that just went into a corner! What’s that? SEVEN grown men in a matter of about 6 hours. I still cannot find the words to truly express the antipathy of their actions.
Now, I am far from being a prude. I can be as crude and vulgar as they are; I am usually considered “one of the guys”, which I don’t usually have a problem with, but in this case? I’ll pass thanks. It’s completely indecent, rude, nasty and fuckin’ dirty.
For some reason, every time I see someone do this, I think of “Frankenstein” pissing in the tree in Big Daddy and him being the smelly kid in class.