A funny thing happened on the way to go pee [Ode to an idiot: Part 2]

So, this is another one of my patented stories that go nowhere. Don't say I didn't warn you. Again, as I mentioned in my last Ode To An Idiot installment, don't come crying to me after you read this and go, "But, but, Ryan...that story didn't go ANYWHERE!" No shit, dumbass. That's why I said, "this is one of my patented stories that go nowhere." Did the word 'patent' throw you off?

Anyway, back to the story at hand. And, no, this still isn't the story about how I nearly burned down my house, and, no, I don't think I'll ever tell it. Tough bananas.

Ok, so, as everyone knows by now [or SHOULD know by now] I'm nothing if not unemployed. So, following my normal pattern of being employed; getting caught in the company break room making wild, passionate love with an orangutan; getting fired for making love to said orangutan- I found myself unemployed once again this week.

So, I get a call this morning from my temporary agency, which, for those unfamiliar, is a company that specializes in finding losers like me temporary work, to make sure that we can keep the money rolling in and keep our chubby, greasy fingers covered in KFC chicken grease [Mmmm....grrreeasse.] So, I get this call and they tell me, "Yes, we've got a company that would be interested in hiring you, but we may need to have you come out here today to do an interview with them first. I'll call you back to let you know if they need you to come out or not."

Well, being the supremely lazy human being that I am [and that's stretching the definition of "human being,"] I was hoping against hope that they would not require my very handsome and sexual presence and would hire me based strictly on the amazing reputation I have with the ladies.

The woman from the temp. office calls me back about an hour later [interrupting a perfectly good episode of "Cops", I might add] and let's me know that they won't be needing me for an interview after all. I breathe an audible sigh of relief. Then she told me that they did need me to go down for a drug test. I was so shocked I nearly knocked over my bong! Hey-o! Thank you folks, I'll be here all week.

Seriously, though, she did tell me that I needed to make the 50 mile drive to get the drug test today, and then, because the road to hell is paved with minor inconveniences, she also said that I would need to make the same drive again on Monday, so they can fingerprint me and have THAT tested as well. By the F.B.I. No, I'm not making any of that up.

So, after one of my patented three hour showers [hee...some of you who have had to wait on me while I shower know EXACTLY what I mean] I finally made my way out of the house.

I get down to this place with almost no problems about an hour later. My tank is just about out of gas [I found out today that a little red light on your gas gauge means you're out of gas- who knew?] but other than that everything is kosher.

I fill out all the appropriate paperwork [including, unfortunately, an agreement that I will never again have sex with an orangutan again, no matter how hot she is or how much she wants it] I'm on my way to the drug test.

I look at my handy dandy list of locations and see that there is a lab right up the street from me. I also notice that there is a lab on the way back home. Hmmm...decisions, decisions. Well, being the bright guy that I am, I decided the best thing to do was catch the lab right up the street. They closed at four, and it was about twenty after three, so, you know, since it was all of TWO MILES away, I figured I should be ok. I know, I know- I'm Ryan. Things NEVER turn out ok. You'd think that after 23 years I would get the hint by now, but you'd be wrong, kids. You'd be wrong.

So, I'm starving. I literally have not had a single bite to eat all day. Hell, I haven't had anything to drink, either. Not even a sip of water.

Fine. This shouldn't take too long, right? So, I get gas and a liter of water, head over to the lab, pull up to the front door sometime around 3:40, grab my paperwork and proudly walk toward their establishment only to find...that they moved. Up the street.

Oooohhhkay. So I jump back in my car, race out of the parking lot, and it hits me: I don't know exactly where the hell I'm going. I know it's a left on Dupont, but I'm not ON Dupont- I'm on Chandler. So, is it a right or a left on Chandler?

Seeing as how I had less than half an hour left at this point, I decided to just make a left on Chandler and hope to God I was going the right way. So, I'm driving, I'm driving, I'm driving. Not seeing Dupont. Streets go by, songs play on the radio, more streets go by- not seeing Dupont. Shit. I'm going the wrong way.

So, I make a U-turn, head back the other direction, back track about two miles, drive the ADDITIONAL two miles I was supposed to drive in the first place, finally see the street and turn. I've now got a little more than ten minutes left to get to this place.

I finally see the parking lot, swing into a space, and glance at the clock. It's now 3:55. I've got five minutes to be in this place or I'm toast.

Ok, ok, no problem. I'm trying to keep calm here. I look up and see two buildings standing in front of me. But which one has their office?

I'm looking for suite 210 here. So, I walk to the first building, and the directory proudly states that their offices start at suite 211. Ok, no problem, great...this isn't the building. Through process of elimination, I must be looking for the other building. Except the other building only goes up to 205. Ok...what the FUCK is going on here?

So, there I am, bouncing back and forth between these two buildings like the ball in a game of "Pong", running desperately out of time. This makes absolutely no sense, but, since it is my life we're talking about here, it of course makes perfect sense.

I run into one building, look around desperately, thinking maybe they're just new to the building and haven't been added to the directory yet. No such luck.

I run back across to the other building, hoping for the same thing. No such luck.

Then I notice a lab. It's not the lab I'm supposed to go to, mind you, but it is a lab. I'm thinking maybe it's the same company and they just recently changed names but haven't changed their sign yet. Nope. But the helpful woman there did point me in the right direction- the really tall building across the parking lot.

So, I dash over there, hoping to throw myself at the mercy of the lab, hoping that they'll take me even though I'm getting there right at closing. As I walk up to the lab door, I see the last two employees leave for the night. Great. So, I didn't make it. Surprise, surprise, sur-fucking-prise.

Just for shits and giggles, though, and because I'm a glutton for punishment [or a "life masochist", as I mentioned in one of my earlier blogs] I decide to check the sign on the door. It says, and I quote, "Drug testing cutoff is 3:30."] Yes, that's right, folks- it was all a mute point, anyway. I never had a chance in hell of making it in the first place, and ran around from building to building, freaking out, for nothing.

I get back in my car, defeated. Then it hits me: hey, there is another location here that closes at five! It's a long shot, but I figure it's worth a try.

So, I call a friend of mine.


Me: Dude, I need your help.

Friend: Dude, I'm not helping you dress in drag again. Getting that heel on last time was a bitch.

Me: Dude, that's not what I need help with.

Friend: Is it money? 'Cause you still haven't paid me back from the last time I lent you money.

Me: No, it's not money.

Friend: Bail money?

Me: No, it's not money.

Friend: [Pause] Did you get caught banging an orangutan again?

Me: No. Listen, dude. I need to you mapquest this address for me. I need to get to this other drug-testing place.

Friend: Oh, yeah. I know that place. Yeah, I went there just earlier today.

Me: Ironic.


So, after his computer goes painfully slow, he starts to read me the directions. And then it hits me.

See, here's the thing. Life just can't ever cut you a break. And any time you start to feel even the slightest bit lucky, like life is handing you just a tiny thread of hope- God has to swoop down and kick you square in the ass to remind you of who's in charge.

You see, I have a hernia. Well, I think I have a hernia. For about the last ten years or so, I have occasionally had this very, very painful bulge pop out of my abdomen at random times. It seems to match just about all the symptoms of a hernia, and I actually talked to a nurse who said, yes, from what I had described, it definitely sounded like a hernia. Now, even if it isn't a hernia, it sure as hell is something because, trust me on this, it is EXTREMELY painful, and stops me dead in my tracks every time it happens. So, just for the sake of the story, I'm going to call it a hernia, but I'm telling you right now, that's what it is.

Ok, anyway...at the moment my friend starts to read me the directions, my hernia pops up. Badly. So badly, in fact, that I have to get out of the car, stretch, push at my stomach, trying desperately to get this pain to go away so I can get on the road. Seriously, it gets so painful that I wouldn't trust myself to drive around a parking lot while it's hitting me, let alone across town.

Of course, there's nothing like groaning in pain while you've got your buddy on the phone [and somewhere, far away, I can hear God laughing.]

Now, you've got to access the situation with me here. I'm LATE as it is. I'm barely going to make it to this other lab in time as it is, and then, out of nowhere, my fucking hernia kicks in. It hasn't popped up in months, and, suddenly, now, of all fucking times, here it is. Like the herpes outbreak you get on your wedding night. Yeah, it was just turning out to be that kind of day.

Once the pain finally subsided, I jotted down the address and was on my way. Except, this time, I was going to damn well call to make sure that I could make it by the time of their cutoff. After all, this place is fifteen miles, and THREE FREEWAYS away from where I'm at.

I pick up my phone, dial, and a few seconds later am speaking to someone who is waaay too cheerful, who informs me that their cutoff is 4:30. I look over at my clock and see that the time is....drumroll please...4:27. Yeaaaah!

So, all in all, after this nightmare of a day, I didn't end up making it to my drug test. Fortunately the temp. agency told me that I could just go in and do the drug test Monday morning instead. But, this whole incident just goes to prove the point I set out to make when I started this blog- kids, don't even try in life. If you try, you will always fail. No, no...don't get optimistic. You will ALWAYS fail.

Until next time- austa pasta, kids.