FUPA Jan and the Ebola Cookies

Well today everyone is still pissed getting passed over for promotion. When 20% of the Air Force gets selected, the remaining 80% that didn't make it have to wait another year and it gets alot of people easily upset.

FUPA Jan was such one of those people. I came into work today having recovered the majority of yesterday's disappointing news, so I was my usual smart-ass self that people either love me for or tolerate in small doses. Now first I need to give you her background in order to really appreciate the value of this blog story.

Jan is a single woman in her early 40's that has just not had good luck with alot of things in life. Men especially, but it has even trickled over into lesbians treating her like a mere fuck-toy by sexual assaulting her at her last base - something she has shared openly with everyone. To what purpose this will serve I don't know but perhaps it is her way of dealing with this as well as all the other fucked-up situations Life has handed to her at one time or another. She gets stressed out easily and throws conniption fits in her office and everyone wonders why the fuck she just doesn't learn how to chill or at the very least switch to Decaf for those rough mornings.

Jan is also a Fundie Christian chick and have seen her at the base chapel quite frequently, hanging out with that crew. I don't know if she's using it just as a means to keep guys from trying to fuck her while she's over here or what, but it seems the majority of the chapel crowd are the usual misfits and rejects the military lets in only for the simple fact they serve a purpose as being whatever tool or lackey needed to fulfill whatever thankless job needs doing. The only reason I don't hang out with these left-overs is because they have no sense of humor and take the Jesus thing way too seriously - otherwise I'd fit right in.

Now I wouldn't mind banging the hell outta her, only she has a goddamned FUPA and chances are the moment she saw the Satanic pentagram I have tattooed on my back, she'd either freak out and gargle with Holy Water, or call me her Demon King and demand all the freaky Satanic sex she could squeeze outta me. For some reason it's just that way with the women I date. There's never a middle ground. Perhaps if she had popped out a kid by now I could overlook the fact she has this hideous thing above her pussy, only she never has and staring at a naked chick with a FUPA is just as hideous as seeing a fat guy wear a Speedo in my opinion. Especially if the dude has a hairy back and ass-crack.

I guess to compensate for her misplaced maternal instincts, she does alot of baking. Cookies, cake, pies usually - the typical mommy stuff, and she brings it in to her office for everyone to share. I usually joke saying something really obnoxious like "Hey, so what did you put in these cookies? You hear stories how disgruntled co-workers throw high doses of laxatives into whatever they're baking and then let them eat it unsuspectingly, as a form of subtle revenge, so I wonder if you've done the same thing too?" She usually rolls her eyes at my snide remarks as I take a slice of whatever she's prepared and then tell her how wonderful it tastes after eating it. And it's good too! Seriously! But since she works as a lab technician I figure she could easily get her hands on some germs she's kept in a petri dish and dump them in there when nobody is looking. "Mwaaaaaaaah ~!! Take this! Ebola! Mwaaaaaaaaah! Take this! PLAGUE! Mwaaaaaauuuuggggh~ !! Take this! Tularemia!!!!!! This is what you get for making fun of me and treating me like a sex object! I shall have my revenge!!!" she would scream hysterically.

Well the past few days she's been even more stressed out than normally. The combination of work plus the anticipation for promotion results has really made her cranky and on edge. This morning she brought in some sugar cookies she had baked with frosting on them - two types. Lemon frosting and white sprinkle frosting. I jokingly asked her if today's goodies were "Ebola cookies" and she damn near ripped my head off. "YOU'RE NOT FUNNY!" she snarled at me from her behind her desk. Jeezus Christ. Fuck me running already. I told her to relax as I ate a lemon cookie in front of her face and then complimented her upon how wonderful they tasted. Fucking Christ. You'd think she was about to start going rabid at the mouth she was so livid, yet she knows I always joke around like this.

As long as we've known eachother, she knows I'm a sarcastic pain in the ass and that everything is fair game. "Sacred cows make the best hamburgers" to quote Mark Twain, and that's been my life's motto now for the past 10 years and running. Everything from sex, religion and politics to a plate of goddamned cookies will usually get a snide remark from me, although people who do know me know that despite my abuse, I will gladly go the extra mile for them and fucking have their back if the shit hits the fan - that's just the way my friendship operates. Why the fuck she's started losing it on me I have no idea but perhaps I can pry some answers outta her tonight when the hooch opens up for drinks. Drunks always spill their guts it seems and if I hear some really good stuff that I can put here on the blog, then I'll share it with you all.

But all in all FUPA Jan needs a man that can handle her OCD complexion along with the 42 years of baggage she has accumulated. While I dealt with the majority of Melanie's shit, her issues were small by comparison and for me to try dating FUPA Jan would be biting off way more than I could chew. A shame really. If she lost her FUPA and started taking medication regularly I wouldn't mind being seen with her in public - she still looks pretty hot for a chick fighting menopause.

Oh Jeezus - I'm definitely going to Hell.