Put A Fork In Me, I’m Done

Two of my coworkers will occasionally invite me out to lunch, but only when they’re going somewhere weird and they know I’ll say no, like to a Vietnamese place or a restaurant whose specialty is lamb kabobs…so I almost always decline.

Today they asked me if I wanted to go to Firehouse Subs.  I said sure.  They immediately backtracked, saying, “you really don’t have to” and “no pressure, really, it’s cool”.

AND THEN THEY LEFT WITHOUT ME.

WTF.  I said yes.

Instead I went to Panera by myself and got some broccoli cheddar soup and a tuna salad sandwich, which are pretty much my Depressed Lunch, so if you ever see me eating it, you might want to ask me how my day is going.  Because it’s probably in the shitter.

AND THEN.  Just now, someone told me that our team’s happy hour tonight is cancelled.  Which is totally fine and doesn’t impact my Friday night plans at all, since they never invited me in the first place.

I give up.

Doggy DNA Test Results

For Christmas this year, hubs bought me a kit to test Buster’s DNA (Wisdom Panel Insights) to find out what exactly the little mangy mutt is made of.  I’ve wanted to try it ever since we got him, but had some shame about buying it for myself.  But it’s not shameful if it’s a gift!

For some background on Buster, he is a 30 lb. white scruffy dog, with long legs, and lots of wiry hair that sheds about a medium amount.  He has eyebrows like a schnauzer but soft ears like a lab.  He is too smart for his own good.

Lots of people have told me that he looks like the dog in the Travelers’ insurance commercials.  Our vet said he has Westie hair, but he otherwise bears no resemblance to a Westie.  I’ve had multiple people tell me that he looks like an F1 mini Labradoodle.

So a few weeks ago, I did the DNA swab of Buster’s cheek, and sent off the swab and no other information about him to the testing company.  Not a picture, no info about his appearance, nothing extra aside from good old fashion puppy saliva.  I’ve been anxiously awaiting the results ever since, and yesterday, they finally came through, and…

They are freaking HILARIOUS.

According to Wisdom Panel Insights, here is Buster’s family tree:

HAHAHAHAHAHA.  This makes NO sense.  Please tell me how a purebred Pomeranian and a half-Chinese-Crested/half-mutt mated and produced Buster.

For good measure, the other breeds that possibly make up the “mixed breed” grandparent are:

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that these results might not be accurate.

The test was fun, and I don’t regret that hubs spent the money on it, and I really thought that at best I’d get some sort of “your swab sample was terrible, he’s a mutt, end of story” response.  The ridiculousness of the actual results make me so excited.  I can’t wait for the next time someone asks me what breed he is.  CANNOT FREAKING WAIT.
*Wisdom Panel Insights Review

Things I Did Not Miss About Work

I don’t know if anybody ever looks forward to getting back to work after an extended holiday break, but there are some pros that go along with the multitude of cons.  A regular eating schedule that allows me to consistently eat greek yogurt and Amy’s Organics meals daily vs. the 8 lbs. of candy that we were gifted by my mother-in-law.  The necessity to shower first thing in the morning.  The excitement on my dogs face when I return from a 9 hour workday vs. the “why are you still here?” looks he gives me when I’m at home all day.

You know what I didn’t miss though?  ALL OF THE INSUFFERABLE NOISES.

The kid that sits in front of me eats porridge every single clucking morning, which wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t scrape the spoon against the container for the entire duration of his meal (yes, porridge – he also says “schedule” the British way, even though he’s not British).

Another coworker of mine types with the fury of 1,000 suns.  She probably sits 30 feet away bird’s-eye-view.  But I can hear every GD keystroke as if she’s tapping away on my face.

I am currently listening to someone on the other side of the cube wall eat what has got to be a bottomless bag of chips with his mouth open.  CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHI’MGOINGTOKILLSOMEONE.

Per the winter season, there are sick people everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  The guy in front of me does the dramatic phlegm-clearing of his throat every 5 minutes.  The sound of it is making me want to vom.

And as an extra annoying finale, there is a tin of cookies on top of a nearby filing cabinet, but I am the only person who is within eyeshot of said tin of cookies.  If one more person asks me, “who brought these in?/can we eat these?/are these cookies any good?” I SWEAR TO GOD I’m going to throw them away.  I am not the keeper of the cookies!  Do not ask me any questions regarding the cookies!

Thank you for listening.