Thursday, July 14, 2005

The Further Adventures of Thong World...

So, after a few days at Thong World, I was asked to take a drug test. Now for some reason this annoyed me no end; not that I took drugs, but I felt that if I had to get up at the a$$-crack of the morning to leave the comfort and safety of my down-covered bed to treak to the butt end of beautiful Commerce (gateway to Bell) to sit in front a computer and press random combinations of F-keys while wondering where my life had gone so tragically wrong and try to figure out if there was some way that I could transport myself back 30 or so years to really pound into my earlier toddler head that theater was evil (Eeeeeevil!) and a career in Plastic Surgery was the way to go, not only should I be able to take drugs, it should be compulsory: they should station someone at the front desk where they pop a honey-roasted Valium in my mouth as they check my ID.

So, I creakily (oy, my sciatica) got up on my high horse and refused.

Consternation! Confusion! Thongs Imperiled!

Elsa the Friendly Gorgon called. She wheedled, she cajoled, she seduced (she majorly barked up the wrong tree on so many levels, but god love her for trying). Then she pulled out the big guns.

She offered me two buck an hour more.

Weeeeeel, my high horse was pretty freaking uncomfortable anyway.

Having years later had a drug screening at my current job (although I was one of the last employees to have it in house, since the new owners killed of the in-house health department), I can tell you that a drug screening can discreet, respectful and even slightly homey.

Not in Thong World.

Thong World sent you to an even less attractive corner that might not even been in Commerce. Here, at the corner of Crack and Addicted, you were ushered into a peeling paint covered cinder block building seemingly populated by people who managed to be deemed not perky enough, not helpful enough, without the people skills necessary to man the desk at the DMV. Since the Crusades were over, and they had to pay the bills they landed here: Bob's CheckYourPee.

Needless to say, my particular brand of OFFENDED DIGNITY(R) didn't go over very well.

I eventually was led to a my cubicle/dungeon, and finally after about an hour of trying (performance anxiety- they sent some dude in there to make sure that I didn't Sizemore my way through it), I filled the cup.

All so I could continue to make the world safe for drug-free butt-floss unterhosen.

Coming soon: Pansy Escapes!

1 comment:

Cantankerous Bitch said...

You are patently hysterical, my darling. I always suspected it, but the context of our contact never allowed me the pleasure of knowing for sure. Happily, I wonder no more.