Have you ever looked down at the supplies for a craft project that you want/have to do and know that somehow, someway, you’re going to fuck it up beyond comprehension….?

Welcome to my life. I have absolutely no artistic talent. I have always blame this on the fact that my parents decided to have a second child.

No there’s logic here, hear me out!

When I was four and five, we lived in a three bedroom house, and the third bedroom was my art room. This room because fucktard’s room when he was born. He can draw and all this artisty shit and I blame it on the fact that he sucked all the artistic talent from that room that I would have had if he wasn’t born.

So now you know why the following story happened. I can’t do crafts and asking me to will end in disaster. Or as I decided to call it “Tim Taylor-ing the whole thing”.

Okay here’s the set up:

We use these dryer things to dry swabs before sending them to DNA. They have trays that you put the swabs in and then slide them in. They’re probably a great set decoration on CSI somewhere. Since they are used for DNA purposes we clean them with bleach to kill any DNA that could possibly be behind it. Bleach is corrosive. And I don’t care how strong the glue and plastic of these things are, things are bound to get cocked up. This is why we can buy more.

I also have a moronic supervisor (thankfully not my immediate…she has no power over me, it is kinda awesome). She has no common sense whatsoever and a terrible memory and I can’t stand her.

Add these two things together? Welcome to last Friday.

Dumbass is cleaning the tray and the bottom falls out. Had I seen it I probably would have laughed out loud and gotten myself into trouble. As it was I was dealing with our Biohazard Trash (which will probably contribute to the cancer. YAY!) and all I heard was her saying my name the second after it happened. (A) WTF why is something breaking automatically by fault? I have no (B)….She hands it to me asking me to fix it after just saying that it could probably just super glue it back together. I blink at her a bit, and thank god she couldn’t see my jaw hanging wide open under my mask cause I couldn’t believe she couldn’t glue it back together herself or how the hell this was my damn problem.

So I set it aside and ignore her like I normally do, but when she leaves at the end of the day she tells me that she’s going to email the person the swab dryer ‘belongs’ to (yea she’s fucking up OTHER people’s equipment) and let them know what happened so she doesn’t freak out (she was going to freak out anyway…) and that she would probably MacGyver it back together….if I even knew who that was…

REALLY?!??!?! FUCK YOU AND YOUR PATRONIZATION!!!!!!! FUCKING WHORE!

Plus two lines of glue really isn’t MacGyver’s style. It’s totally beneath him. To be honest it’s totally more Tim Taylor’s style. So I took it upon myself to fix it just to prove a point…it’s not like we don’t have kick ass super glue at our discretion….

So yea this is where I fuck up. Since I don’t use our super glue EVER I didn’t know how fast it was going to come out so it ended up pooling all over the bottom of the tray, not just on the two grooves I needed it on…SO…..I put the tray where it should go and try to clean up the extra glue which is now all over the counter and my fingers and almost ending up gluing the damn thing to my hand…now my fingerprints are on the damn thing in glue…there is just no denying this one. So I kept trying to make it better, simultaneously making it worse and finally deem it relatively okay and go get the rest of my work done.

About an hour or so before leaving I decide that the tray is dry enough and that I should probably put it out on the analyst’s counter so she knows it’s done. Fifteen minutes later…it’s glued itself to the table.

Thank you Tim for teaching me how to royally fuck things up. Cause that one was spectacular.

Although I was quite amused by the outline of the tray on the counter. I guess I always leave my mark!

-Renee

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