Really Really Bad Idea

Today culminated my six sigma training at Appliance Park in Louisville, KY. I would like to categorize the entire program as a few things.
1. a waste of my time
2. a waste of resources
3. a waste of money
4. gay

The entire program was about saving money, resources, and time on procedures within the company and all I did for 3 days straight was hum lyrics from Eminem's album Encore and wonder how badly pen's hurt when they are jammed into your eye socket. Seriously by the end of each day, I was so slap happy that I was annoying everyone around me and being an all around disruption to the class in general. High school all over again. I would not be surprised if I got a report card with "too social in class" comments all over it. For a program that's all about using your time, energy, and resources wisely, there sure was a lot of time wasting going on.

So naturally after it was finished, I needed some lip treats. So I did. They were delicious as usual but later that night at my hockey game I was sucking wind like moterboater schroeder freshman fall. I realized I was in terrible shape (not working out in 2 weeks didn't help) and the dessert was not getting me anywhere. I decided I needed to try something drastic. Beef jerky and sunflower seeds alone as substitutes weren't cutting the trick and I it seemed as though I was up the creek without a paddle until I got the worst best idea I've ever had.

After the hockey game I put in 6 pouches of Grizzly Mint. These suckers are badass. Twice as potent as gay skoal, and twice as fun. My drive home from the rink is about 15 minutes and I didn't spit once. I kept everything in my mouth. When I got home, I stepped out of the car, found a happy spot, and swallowed a mouthful of dipspit. Immediately and without hesitation, I doubled over and started vomiting violently. I was somewhere in between a Princeton cross country girl and Mike Milone on a Tuesday. It was insane. Tears were streaming from my eyes, mucous from my nose, and fecal matter out of my anus. I thought that might of been enough for me to classically condition myself to hate dip but I had to be sure.

I doubled back to my car where I had a bottle of dip spit from earlier that afternoon. I removed the cap and downed the contents of the bottle. Similar results. The guy who lives downstairs came outside and asked if I was okay to which I replied "I'm fine. I fucking hate dessert." I think he got the message because he disappeared pretty quickly.

I still feel awful and I really hope that worked because it was one of the worst booting experiences I've ever had. Hey, at least I've still got my dignity.