My gloriously shitty day.

Hmm, lets start at the beginning (always a good place, I find).

Last night I got a text message telling me today’s group meeting had been moved from 8.30 to 11. I let out a small ‘yippee’ at this news, but decided I should probably still get up a little bit early and get some study in.

This morning my alarm went off at 8.30. I pressed snooze. Then it went off at 8.39. I pressed snooze again. Then the cat came in and started digging its claws into my neck and dribbling on me. I pulled my head under my blanket. Then the alarm went off at 8.48. I re-set it for 9.30. Then the cat tunnelled under my blanket (yes, he has now adopted this method of torture as well) and continued stabbing and dribbling on me. Then at 10.00 I had the sudden realisation that it takes me a full hour to get to school from leaving the house… at the exact same moment that the dogs started going mental barking at something outside.

My auntie and uncle had arrived (unannounced and uninvited) to fix the taps. Thus completely shattering my usual routine of getting ready in 30 seconds and running out the door with back-to-front and inside-out clothes. They wanted to know how I was, they wanted to know why I wasn’t at school yet, they wanted to know which taps were being stupid (did I ever mention that the bathroom tap has started the same intermittent spurting of water too?), they wanted to know where the electricity box thing is, they wanted to know where the extra washers are (yes, I guess it was the washers), they wanted to know what I was doing today and they wanted to know why I was acting erratic. I don’t know why they ask me these things because I didn’t even know where the toilet paper was. (Did I tell that story? I ran out of toilet paper last week and searched the entire house top to bottom and could not find where my dad could possibly be keeping the toilet paper so I went out and bought some [which was a challenge in itself, trying to find an acceptable balance between quality and price] and then stopped by mum’s house on the way home to collect some mail, only to have my auntie and uncle exclaim that they had seen masses and masses of toilet paper [did I ever mention that my dad is an obsessive compulsive bulk buyer?] on top of the oven, and had thought to themselves what a strange location that was.)

Yeah anyway, so eventually I made it out of the house. In the car park I encountered my daily “needing to help an old person understand the train station” situation; there were two old people stressing over the fact that the ticket machine wasn’t giving them a ticket. I took their ticket out of the ticket dispensing hole and gave it to them. They were eternally grateful and changed their wills to leave everything to me.

On the train I decided it would be a good time to read the “Rectal Examination of the Genital Tract of the Cow” hand out. Turns out it was not such a great idea on public transport, because it was freaking hilarious. Eg:

• “With your fingers and thumb forming a cone, gently penetrate the anal sphincter. Make sure you look where you are inserting your hand and that you can tell the difference between the rectum and the vulva. Inserting your hand into the incorrect orifice is a mistake that your classmates will not let you easily forget.”
• ­“The presence of your hand in the rectum, and/or repeatedly inserting and withdrawing your hand may allow air to enter the rectum, causing it to balloon, making it impossible to palpate. If the rectum is ballooned, it is often best to withdraw you hand and give the cow the chance to expel the air and a splattering of faeces onto you before proceeding. If this is not successful, seek assistance from the demonstrator. “

Upon arrival at school I rushed to the group meeting I was like half an hour late to, to find that one of my group mates had brought her super cute shiba inu (but with the super ridiculous name of “Cutie”), awwww. I’ll never understand why literally no one (except me) is capable of comprehending that if a group of six is told to do a 10 minute presentation, that there is absolutely no point in writing 40 slides and 8 minutes of speaking each. Because every single other member of the group did this, as usually happens. They can’t seem to understand that 1-2 minutes on a topic is really seriously just enough to summarize the Wikipedia entry and website-that-explains-it-to-pet-owners. So I just sat there, playing with Cutie, while people were desperately trying to cut out pointless information, seeing as my part was 1:50 minutes and perfectly sculpted. Until I had the sudden realisation that I had the Kooks-January-2009-Australian-Tour-Poster Ebay auction that was ending today, that I had not yet given my maximum bid for. So I left Cutie (and my group mates) and ran to a computer lab and managed to scrape in the winning bid with SECONDS to spare. $16-that-I-can’t-afford, and I’ve got the Kooks poster I desperately wanted more than words could possibly express.

Okay, okay, so here comes the bit you’ve been waiting nervously on the edge of your seat for. Rectal palpation time! Actually, it’s pretty impossible to explain. Ideally, I would just post a picture of me shoulder deep in cow arse (those pictures really ARE worth a thousand words) … but I obviously can’t do that.
So I’ll explain the process (pretty self explanatory);

1. Put on massive glove. Attempt to cover as much of shoulder as possible.
2. Cover glove in industrially bottled cow-lubricant. (If no cow lubricant is available, or you are lazy/crazy, use “natural lubricant”, aka: cow shit off the ground. … Not normal behaviour, only exhibited by weird demonstrator guys)
3. Thrust entire arm into cow rectum, regardless of cow’s displeasure.
4. Think “OMFG, my arm is in a cow’s arse. My arm is completely surrounded by warm liquid cow shit, and a cow is attempting to shit my arm out, and it kind of hurts how strong it’s arse muscles/contractions are, but I sure am glad that I have long arms, unlike my super short friend over there who’s entire body is now covered in shit and is getting a face full of cow bum.”
5. Pose for photos.
6. Be unable to get over the “omg, it’s a cow bum” thing for the first two cows, and feel nothing but “um … I dunno, it just feels like lots of shit”.
7. Laugh your own arse off and take more photos after your friend accidentally touches your other friend’s bare arm with their shit covered gloved arm.
8. Have a demonstrator stand there while you have your arm inside cow #3, and be forced to try and figure out what is beyond the shit. Actually be able to feel the uterine horns inside the pelvis, and thus be able to tell that cow #3 is non-pregnant *pbs*
9. Be able to really clearly feel fremitus (a sign of pregnancy) in cow #4, get really excited, have demonstrator explain where possible fetus would be. Feel actual 30cm long fetus!!! Still be a little bit jealous of that group next to you who’s fetus was kicking them.
10. Leave. Get out of your overalls outside of your friend’s car. Have your friend notice that they still have your other friend who started walking home’s mobile. Quickly chuck your crap in the car and drive off to catch them. Leave expensive camera that your life depends on in car park. Make sure you do this on a day that it rains torrentially for the rest of the afternoon, evening and possibly night.

I started thinking about how I might have left my camera behind while I was on the bus, because I had put my overalls and boots in the car loosely, and pulled them and my bag out at the bus stop when my friend dropped me off. But normally I would keep my camera out and put it in my bag last after my boots and overalls so I don’t crush it when trying to force my boots into a bag that is too small to fit them, and I wouldn’t have left it in my overalls pocket because I wouldn’t have wanted to trap it with the poo smell in that pocket of my bag. So then where was my camera? It should have been separate to the boots/overalls and bag … but I only took boots/overalls and bag out of the car. But then I forgot about it for a bit when I had to run to get the train, and then there was someone I knew on the train, so I had to explain my day in detail. I couldn’t fully empty and inspect my bag until I got to my car (because I wouldn’t be so cruel as to inflict that smell on innocent commuters), and by the time I did, I realised, horror struck, that I did not in fact have my camera. So I messaged my friend with the car, who lives on campus, to ask her to check for it in her car, and she said it wasn’t there, then I asked if she could please go and look in the car park because it looked like it would rain, and she said she really wanted to nap instead.

So I was PRETTY freaked out by the time I got home (after stopping to buy adorable mini straightener), and was panicking about how I simply can NOT afford a new camera, and about how fucking expensive my camera was, and about how I am totally slack and never actually put my photos onto my computer for safe keeping, and about how- OMG! PACKAGE FROM PETRA! PACKAGE FROM PETRA! Oooooooh! Sway vinyls and single! Ooooohhhhh! Oooooooooh! *fangurl*