Thursday, May 13, 2010

Only In The Movies...Or So I Thought

I write this while sitting atop a small iceberg I've created with a plastic bag, a towel and a thankfully overzealous ice maker. One might ask, "Harna, why are you icing your ass?"

Because I'm a walking movie cliche, that's why.

First, let me update you on my job.

I beat myself up in my daily life all on my own, but now I have this job where nearly every move I make is caught on camera by a live Web cam and that footage could be made into an old timey, silent, slapstick comedy routine set to player piano music. Just call me the fourth Stooge.

Working part time as a "camp counselor" at a doggie day care has actually been fairly enjoyable. I'm working, as in earning a paycheck no matter how tiny it is, and believe me, you work hard for that paycheck there. I love dogs, I'm always busy and my co-workers and boss are fabulous people for the most part. However, I'm still not quite used to looking like a battered woman.

My hands and arms are covered in scratches and bruises in various stages of healing as well as my legs, stomach, hips and back. The dogs play and wrestle with each other then inevitable slam into my legs...they jump up on me in an excited frenzy and dig their nails and teeth in because they think we're playing and of course, there are no breed restrictions on this behavior. There's a Great Dane, whose probably six feet tall on his hind legs, that likes to "sneak attack" me when my back is turned. All of a sudden, a paw the size of Montana slams into the side of my head and eagle talons nails are dragged from the nape of my neck all the way down my back.

Then of course there are the injuries that occur when equipment is involved like pinching your fingers in the gates, having a dog jump up and slam your head into the fence, getting your ass kicked by the shop vac and bashing your hands against all surfaces while trying to wrestle a fat Lab into the bathtub.

Dogs are also violent, molestery perverts, so you must also protect any private parts. One of their favorite things to do is come charging at you from across the yard like a fucking bull, then spear you right in the 'gine with their snouts with such force that you stumble backwards and sometimes fall on your ass. Right in the babymaker. Well, not exactly. It's more like right in the pubic bone, which for ladies, is nearly equivalent to getting kicked in the balls for guys. So, here I am laying on the ground, holding my crotch in pain on camera while dogs jump all over me and slobber on my face. It sounds like a poorly made bestiality porn.

There's this giant English Mastiff that comes to camp a lot. Saying giant and Mastiff in the same sentence is quite redundant, by the way, since most of them are the size of tigers or baby hippopotamuses and this guy is no exception. He's really sweet, but one day after having a bath he decided to get my attention by chomping down on my right ass cheek. So, not only was my butt violated by the Jaws of the dog world, but it was also wet and slobbery...and, once again, it was all caught on camera, including me squealing and running around in circles while holding my ass.

Then, just a few days later, the sneak attack Great Dane whose head is level with my triceps and has taken advantage of that fact many times by giving me a doggie cow bite (fucking OW!), decided I wasn't paying enough attention to him. As I was taking a drink of my caffeinated beverage, he tiptoed over, headbutted me in the side then nonchalantly bit my left tit. *HONK* I, of course, react by nearly dropping my drink to cup my poor, assaulted boobie on camera and exclaim to my co-worker, "Oh my god, he just bit my boob!" Talk about sensual boob honks...apparently I need to invest in some reinforced steel bras.

OK, so back to the iceberg under my ass and things that happen to me that are only supposed to happen in movies...

One example of such an occurrence outside of my job happened on Christmas Eve a few years ago when I was sick with some mutant strain of strep throat. I was horribly sick and the crankiest bitch ever because of it, so I decided to get some medicine at Walgreens when the heel on one of my boots snapped and I was forced to hobble through the store on one stiletto and one tard shoe with every single lymph node in my body the size of grapefruits. Feel free to read that whole adventure here.

Now, today I once again amazed myself with my uncanny ability to re-create movie magic in my own home. I had just gotten back from the gym and quickly jumped in the shower, but forgot to grab my face wash off the sink, which I do a lot. In fact, I can rarely leave the house without having to go back because I forgot something. It's really damn annoying.

So, I hop out of the shower as fast as I can, onto the rug and leap over the rest of the linoleum to the carpet to grab my stuff. However, on the way back to the shower, I forgot the ever important leap over the linoleum part and felt my wet feet start to slide under the rug. Then I'm all, ohshitohshitohshitohshit *rapid double backwards windmill arms,* and like a fucking cartoon character, my feet fly out from under me, I soar about four feet airborne then land flat on my ass...and thankfully my elbows, which prevented me from hitting my head.

So here I am, dripping wet, laying on my back on the bathroom floor thinking, 'oh my god, my mother is going to find me laying here sometime tomorrow afternoon, buck naked and shivering with a broken ass and unshaved legs because I can't move! The only reason she would find me that quickly is because we have plans tomorrow. Who knows how long it would be if we didn't!' The "half-eaten by wild dogs" Bridget Jones' Diary moment started to take on a whole new meaning. Then of course, I snapped out of it, said 'fuck' really loud a few times, shook it off and got back to my shower.

I'm not sure my tailbone is ever going to be the same. While I should be more worried about being able to go to work and you know, like, walk and stuff, with this injury, I'm more concerned with getting through the pedicure and driving to Manhattan (Kansas) I have planned tomorrow since both of those require extended periods of sitting on my ass. I think I may need one of those inflatable hemorrhoid donut things. Does anyone have one I can borrow?

Eh, fuck it. I'm just going to make a wise investment and buy one. With my graceful life skills, I have a feeling I will get my money's worth.

6 comments:

Rebecca said...

I do the same thing with face-wash, but finally found something that works for me. I buy 2 -- one stays on the sink, and one in the shower...life-changing I tell ya! No more running out in the cold air, getting Xtreme nips, and risking your life on a wet floor...

Harna said...

AH, HA! Xtreme nips! That is actually a really good idea though...Hmmm, curing my retardedness one piece of advice at a time.

Dave said...

Rebecca taught me the 2 bottle trick. But now that I know about Xtreme nips, I might have to misplace her shower one...

Megs said...

I am sitting in my cubicle snorting because this was so funny. The perve-y dogs almost killed me.

I hope you aren't really seriously injured, because then I'll feel like a total ass.

Dingo said...

You really need to perfect the loose-limbed bent knee position familiar to all dog park goers. That way when you get knocked to the ground, you can roll Charlie's Angel style. Very important for when a 160 pound St. Bernard puppy slams into your chest.

Luna said...

my sink is next to my shower so if i forget something on the sink i can reach over and get it. i did used to have that problem of forgetting shit on the sink and its annoying. i also have 2 face washes. a morning one i keep in the shower since i always shower in the morning and an evening one i keep by the sink to wash my face when i get home from work or being out all day or before going to bed. it is much more convenient.

 

View my page on Twenty Something Bloggers