No Couth on my first Business Trip

Finally, Worthless Boss allowed me to accompany him on one of his many business trips. I never understood what happened on these trips, but I always had the desire to find out. After all, there is nothing more exciting than doing the airport walk, pretending to be somebody on their way to a very important destination when in reality their annual Family Reunion awaits. The theme of this year's reunion and corresponding tee shirt makes the traveler even more mysterious and indifferent.

We were also accompanied by the other Account Executive, you know the one with the three month long yeast infection.

“It just won’t go away.”

No shit, slut, it's gonorrhea.

Since I was a Traveling Virgin (a soon to be written country song), I woke up during the night with the horrid fear that I had missed the plane. As a lovely result, I overslept by an hour.

I took a whore bath, threw on travel gear, and headed out the door in fifteen. I arrived at the gate to find Yeast flirting with the ticket man. I had never met such a complete slut in my entire existence. Every Monday we were forced to hear about another romp with her countless and anonymous weekend warriors.

“Remember that stripper, Dance Machine, I told y’all about? You know, the one I met at the male review? Well, I know why they call him a machine," she giggles a Yeasty laugh.

Jesus H. Christ (What the hell does the H stand for, by the way?). Chlamydia ain’t no flower, bitch. I bet she’s the one who danced on the cauliflower growing out of his ass for a good two hours.

I couldn’t believe that my first business trip had to be with the Yeast. The only thing that we had in common was that we enjoyed booze and smokes; on the other hand, I passed out while she fucked herself to sleep. Living la vida loca.

We arrived at our destination around 6pm. We met Client in Mulletsville where the best manes reside with a full on party in the back, business in the front. I needed a cocktail to take the edge off, so we decided to ditch the boss and go to the bar, only to find that the Hawaiian Tropics were having a contest.

After a couple of white wines, I was hooping and hollering with the mullet mania in our corner of the bar. I just adored the pasties on contestant number twelve.

Client was a trip. He knew the Yeast and I could put em' down, so he got us into VIP with a bottle of wine a piece.

After we had finished the bottles, the Yeast had the urge to go back to the pool to go skinny-dipping. Being the responsible one, I called the hotel shuttle to send out their best driver.

Driving Mullet was there in a hair-fluttering flash. The first words out of her two teeth, “Y'all got cash to pay me?"

What cab driver doesn't take plastic?

"Hell, no. Stop at this gas station and I'll go to the ATM."

Me and the Yeast fell into the Circle K. I thought she was going to cream her jeans when she saw that Cheetos were on sale two for one.

"CHEETOS. We must have," the Yeast begins to drool like fucking Niagara Falls.

I was a nervous wreck with all the commotion, so I lit up.

The Circle K behind the counter reacted, "Ma’am, you can't smoke in here."

For God's sake, you would have thought we had just entered a Daughters of the Civil War Luncheon. I’ve never known any Circle K’s to be concerned about smeared shit on the bathroom wall much less a little ash in the chip aisle. I got a couple more puffs, grabbed the two bags of Cheetos, and a Coca Cola Classic.

Since Driving Mullet was salivating on the sterring wheel, I asked if she wanted any of my delicacy. I had a feeling she had a taste for some pieces of my fried orange heaven.

I knew Driving Mullet couldn't resist the two for one deal no more than the rest of us. However, for some reason, she refused my gift. I thought that if I placed a Cheeto on her shoulder, she could no longer refuse; instead, she did not take it, so I ate them off her shoulder until we arrived at the Holiday Inn Express.

The next morning began with my boss banging on my door. I had, once again, overslept. To save time, I wasn't going to shower, but the Cheetos had stained my fingers. Damn those little orange snacks.

I scrubbed the orange from my hands and ran into the meeting. I was sweating cheap white wine from the time I stepped into the coffin like room. Everyone could hear the Cheetos coming back up with a vengeance. I felt like bright orange fireworks were shooting out of my nose.

The lessons learned are obvious, but in case you missed them....

Number one, Cheetos do not come off with just soap and water. Number two, if a yeast infection lasts longer than one application of Monistat, go see your doctor. Finally, number three, all Circle K's are nonsmoking.

Bonus Learning: Thank God himself that Latin is a dead language.

©2007 Jessica Smith