I've been spending a lot of times in labs having blood taken and breathing into tubes. Have you ever done a breath test before? It's weird. Really weird.
I'm REALLY hoping one of these tests tells me WHY oh why I get so many pains in my midsection. Why am I anemic? WHY DAMNIT. Lactose intolerance? Celiac disease? IBS? Ulcer? Bacterial infection? A lot of stomach acid? WHYYYYY
Anyway yesterday I had to spend 2.5 hours at the lab doing a lactose tolerance test.
You are not allowed to sleep or exercise an hour before the test, or during. You go in, literally breathe into a bag and they catch your air in a test tube and cork it in there, straight out of a cartoon. Then you drink a gigantic cup of lactose (which sounds way grosser than it is, it was like a ridiculously sweet water, totally gross but not like, old chunky milk or anything like that).
Then you sit on a chair.
NO WALKING AROUND, the test has to be done at a resting metabolism.
Then after an hour you go back and breathe into another bag and they catch more of your breath. Then, you guessed it, you sit on a chair. For another hour.
Breathe into a bag and they catch your breath again.
So if you ever have to do a lactose tolerance test, bring a good book or something to do. I did a lot of reading, I also eavesdropped on an old man telling his life story to two strangers about immigrating to Canada from Hungary. I looked at Reddit. Then I read some more.
Which is good, I've been meaning to read more.
Speaking of segues, I am 99% ready to get the words "read more" tattooed on my fingers. On my uh, "sub knuckles" I guess they're called. Now I just have to talk somebody into doing it at the tattoo shop. They're so busy lately. The shop is killing it, we have more artists than we do stations so people are sharing, and it's constantly buzzing in there. There are more girl artists than guys which has never happened in that shop when I've worked there. It's a totally different dynamic. Much more positive and welcoming if you ask me.
I was always afraid of getting my hands tattooed because how will I get a job and all that, but seriously, working at the college has opened my eyes to the fact that nobody cares. And to the people who do care, I am already the most tattooed person they've ever seen, they're not going to notice the difference in my tattoos stopping at my wrists or going onto my hands.
I just did a "respect in the workplace" job training online course thing, and from that I've learned that:
a) Eating a banana suggestively can be constituted as sexual harassment.
b) People are not allowed to talk to me about my tattoos, and are technically not supposed to talk about the way I look between themselves when I'm not around either as that can be considered workplace bullying.
That's pretty fantastic if you ask me.
What's not fantastic is the bookstore hours are always shorter in the Spring and Summer, and I, being a casual cashier, have literally with 1 week notice suddenly gone from around 30 hours/week to 16.
I will be covering people's holidays and the like, but still, I was just getting used to this extravagent lifestyle where I can count on being able to afford to pay for our house to have actual bi-weekly garbage pick up, help pay for gas for the car, not fall behind on credit card payments AND not wear pants with ripped-out crotches.
Now it's back to worrying if I can afford to buy new socks or whatever.
Wish me luck with all that.
Tank has the worst fricking seasonal allergies. I feel terrible for him this time of year. He's so itchy and leaky and disgusting. It's hard being a bulldog. And to be honest, not so easy being a bulldog owner. The licking noises he makes basically make me want to murder everybody.
Buuuuuuuut he's soooooo cute, even at his most disgusting. Here he is melting on my leg.
It's been one crazy expensive vet visit after another. He's uncomfortable and sad, but he's going to get better soon. Here he is "smiling" at the vet. Hahaha what a dork. He also hid underneath Ryan's chair when a literal tiny puppy barked at him. AW