For those of you who were curious how my first Spit Job went (Spit Happens: http://wp.me/p4jR8n-2c), I am slightly disappointed that I’m not writing this post from a bunker four stories below the earth’s surface. I was not greeted by (nor even offered) a HazMat suit. In fact, the CDC didn’t even show up. After filling out their 100+ page questionnaire AND giving up more body fluids than I’m normally comfortable with donating in any setting, I have to say I’m feeling a little stood up. And used.
One friend, who personally knows CDC people, tells me they’re lovely. I’m sure they are. It is my belief, however, that after you share bodily fluids, common etiquette dictates that a thank you note would be nice. Another friend thinks this is a cloning experiment. This friend tends to collect cats and dress up like a zombie for Día de Muertos. Naturally, I’m going with her theory.
My doctor’s office staff did the CDC’s bidding, took my spit (without even a “thank you”) and took a “Carrie-at-the-prom” size quantity of my blood. When I asked the nurse why he did a little cha-cha with each vial of blood, he told me because he had to really shake up the reagents so that they mixed with my DNA. (um…my what?).
I was told that I will NOT know what’s in MY magical blood and spit until the CDC publishes their findings. In a few years. If my cat-collecting, zombie-dressing friend’s conspiracy theory is correct (and there are, in fact, 17 little Traceys in a test tube housed in dry ice four stories below Atlanta), I’d like to contact them. NOW. They need to know about starting Kegels immediately. And that even though it seems like a good idea in your 30’s, don’t get breast implants. And to never wear capri pants.
On another note, I really need to acquaint myself with this WordPress program. Being new to the blogging world, I can’t help myself from clicking all the fun buttons on my Editing dashboard. The one that caught my eye last night was in my “STATS” page. It’s a fancy-schmancy algorithm that enables me to see what searches people entered to find my blog website and the countries they inhabit. When I write, I sometimes forget that this isn’t a private diary. I do bizarrely enjoy the concept that random people enjoy staring at my vomited brain confetti. I just forget how vast the world wide web is and that people all over the world can watch me heave in real-time.
With that, I’d like to take a moment to say to the individuals in the Russian Federation that are image searching me, I am truly sorry that I thought Vladimir Putin looked like a villain from Law & Order SVU in my post (http://wp.me/p4jR8n-1C) . For the record, I have a very low threshold for torture.
If your reasons for this search were less sinister, I have to tell you upfront that I am married and have ZERO aspirations to be a reverse mail order bride. However, I did discuss this at length with my husband. If you are a gorgeous Russian billionaire, my husband and I are not above reviewing your proposal.