This damn story will never go away and since I've been keeping you updated, I feel responsible for continuing to share the story. The Christ.

Worker: Finger found in chili severed in tailgate

SAN FRANCISCO, California (AP) -- The finger that a woman claimed she found in a bowl of Wendy's chili was severed in the tailgate of a truck during a work accident, an employee of an asphalt company said.

Pat Hogue, an estimator with a Las Vegas asphalt maintenance company, told the San Francisco Chronicle for a story in Sunday's editions that a man he was working with lost the tip of his finger on a job five months ago.

Both men were working with James Plascencia, the husband of Anna Ayala -- the Las Vegas woman who claimed she found the finger in a bowl of chili at a Wendy's restaurant in San Jose, Hogue told the paper.

Authorities believe the injured man gave the finger to Plascencia. Ayala is accused of trying to shake down the fast-food giant with a bogus tainted-food claim.

"I saw it on the news. I didn't know the lady at first was married to that James guy until after he was arrested," Hogue said in a telephone interview from his home in North Las Vegas.

Hogue and investigators have refused to identify the man with the severed finger, but police have said he's cooperating with authorities.

Ayala, 39, is in jail on suspicion of attempted grand theft. She claimed she bit into the finger on March 22 and filed a claim against the restaurant chain shortly afterward. The publicity resulted in a major loss of business for Wendy's.

Ayala later withdrew her claim as she came under scrutiny and investigators found at least 13 cases in which she has filed claims in her name or her children's.

Plascencia, 43, is being held in a Las Vegas jail on unrelated charges. He is awaiting extradition to California.

San Jose Police Chief Rob Davis said a tipster led investigators to the Nevada man with the missing finger. Investigators have refused to say how the finger was preserved or transported from Las Vegas to San Jose.

Police said more arrests were possible.

YET ANOTHER EDITION OF THINGS NOT TO DO WITH COWORKERS
Otherwise titled: Reason #1025A Why I Am the Biggest Wiener of All

So yes, it has been awhile and there has been much happening and I was going to blog about it all. But before I go back and do a retrospective, I want to give you all a quick insight as to why I suck. Well, at least last night.

So tempted with the idea of a night at the ballpark, I bit when my co-workers, Jackie and Sarah (both of DE United) decided last-minute to go to the Orioles/Twins game last night at Camden Yards. Turns out that Jackie's friend from the campaign trail is a big Twins fan and there were still seats available right next to him and his girlfriend. So what the hell, I love Camden Yards and I wasn't driving. So whoohoo! And we were off.

Apparently, when we stopped to get gas, I pulled all of the money out of the ATM so Jackie and Sarah couldn't take out the cash they wanted. In hindsight, this is strike one for me.

So we go to the game, everything's fine. Jackie and Sarah start early with the Miller Lites. I'm hanging back because I wanted to walk around a bit, check out the bats they were selling (I'll get to this in a little bit). Here's where it gets interesting. I left at the top of the second inning to go walking. I went to the bathroom, ordered a personalized bat, and waited in line behind these two girls buying beer who decided to have a forty minute conversation with each other while they very very slowly ordered, got out their money, paid, and took a long ass time to get their money back in their purses, all the while standing at the counter. Needless to say, this whole affair probably took closer to ten minutes, but I was annoyed. Finally, I get myself and Jackie a beer as requested and start heading back to the seats. The whole thing must have taken half an hour or even forty minutes.

We were just getting into the bottom of the second inning.

This was the longest game. EVER. And I wasn't the only one who started feeling it.

So after finishing beer one and alternating between the actual action on the field and checking the scores of the team I really care about (Los Yankees) on my cellphone, I realized we had finally just finished the second inning.

By this time, Sarah, Jackie, and I were making comments and lamenting and laughing over the fact we would probably die in the stadium before the game ended.

So we did what only three girls who love baseball do. What do you do when you're at a beautiful ballpark and you don't give a rat's ass about the two teams playing? (Jackie is a Braves fan, Sarah is a Cards fan, and I'm the Bronx Bomber girl)

You drink. As much as you can to make it go faster.

So around our second or third beers, we decide we need to move to a less populous area because we wanted to revel in our drinking and loudness. So we move closer to foul territory, out from under the stadium into the open air and much better seats.

It's around this time that I stopped paying attention to how much I was actually drinking. We left again to take a pee break and I'm pretty sure Jackie got another one - with my money - at this point, it really didn't matter.

What I do know is that at some point, I ended up with three beers in my hand and an extra one between Sarah and me.

I think at some point, I knocked over that extra one and as penance, had to chug it. More for the road.

So I suppose somewhere in there was strike two. I only say strike two lightly because if you could get out with five strikes, that's where I was. I'd say in there was strike one and a half.

After the game, I managed to remember to pick up my personalized bat (everyone needs a thinking bat - especially a personalized one - and yes, I use one all the time). At this point, we somehow manage to make it to the car and I think I threatened to use my bat a couple of times, but I didn't swing it. I promise.

I think.

Ends up that Sarah had to drive because she was quite sober. Unlike the Jackie and I.

I should also mention a few other things. I have been warning the two of them about my legendary tolerance. Most of you who read this blog are well aware of it. It takes me gallons to get drunk. And Jackie was saying at the beginning of the game, "Can I please get you drunk once?" I said, "If you're buying, then hell yes."

I just didn't think it would be the same night.

I should also mention that besides not really knowing how much I drank (five? six? seven?), that I had nothing in my stomach but a SLIM JIM. One of the few things I could buy at the gas station.

So we decided to go to the Papermoon Diner near where I lived for a summer. Somewhere in there, I drunk dialed Fabs to say hello. We were conversing just fine and Sarah and Jackie were yelling at me for directions (they didn't trust me) and in between telling them to trust me, I think I might have made reference to the bat in my possession again. I still didn't swing it, no worries.

We got there just fine (I told them to trust me) and went in. It was at this point that I drunk dialed Matanya Zarga and proceeded to have a totchy conversation. I was feeling sober again. Until I ate what were probably the best nachos EVER and some great ravoili. I was hoping the turkey powerhouse would do the trick and after eating half of it, we got back into the car.

It was at this point that I realized that the nachos weren't sitting well. Must have been the cheese and sour cream. The turkey powerhouse was just fine, it was doing it's job of soaking up the alcohol well. I give kudos to the sunflower bread for knowing it's role in my digestive tract last evening.

So I decided to lay down. I was giving directions as I laid in the seat. Sarah said she wanted to hear Eminem, which suited Jackie just fine since she hearts Eminem. So I was laying there, trying to just close my eyes and stop the world from spinning, which is very difficult to do in a moving vehicle. I should also mention that part of the reason for me lying down was because I felt like I was leaning forward when I was sitting upright which wasn't helping me at all.

I was getting the feeling that I had been in this situation before. My 21st birthday. Also in Baltimore. Why am I always wasted in that city?

So with Jackie singing Eminem and yelling at me intermittently to make sure I was awake, I was feeling them nachos in a ball in the pit of my stomach. No good can come out of that, no matter how hard you will it away.

We got to Jackie's in one piece and as soon as I sat up, I knew things were not okay. I was getting the dry mouth but the spitting, which is a sure-fire sign that something was going to give. I took my time, moved slowly. I grabbed my things and as we were walking to the car, I couldn't help it - it just went.

So Fab was correct. Strike three: projectile vomitting on the lawn of the State Director for Delaware United.

It wasn't really that bad - it was a turn the head, there it's over, let's go home kind of deals. It's always like that for me. I don't know why. Either way, it was the only thing holding me back from sobriety. Once it happened, it was like, "Ah! That was fantastic! I feel better!"

Seriously.

Sarah and I drove back to my heezy where we proceeded to then pass out. I woke up refreshed this morning.

This, friends, is why I am the totchest ever.

And now, lessons from last evening:
1. Baseball games where everyone is stranded on base for the first five innings go much faster when you drink.
2. However, moderation is key.
3. Just because it's the seventh inning and it's last call, it doesn't mean that you should buy the beer guy out of all the beer he is carrying.
4. Just because you spill half of a beer when getting up to cheer doesn't mean that you have to chug it if you still have three in your hand.
5. Drinking faster does not make the eighth inning go faster.
6. Buying a personalized baseball bat is not a good idea if you are wasted. I didn't use it, though. Let's remember that.
7. Cheese and sour cream are not good on a drunk stomach.
8. Eating something besides a slim jim and salad is a good rule of thumb if you go to a baseball game to watch teams you don't care about.
9. Offer to hose down your coworkers yard after an evening like last night.

and finally:

10. Do this with coworkers that are awesome because otherwise, work would be hell.

We're so doing this again next week. Ha.