Who Loves Ya Baby!

Okay, so Tim McGraw and Faith Hill are coming to town in less than 3 weeks, and I have one extra ticket. Rather than just arbitrarily letting any schmuck go, I thought I would make things more interesting if I made it into a contest. A Who Loves Heather More Contest. The winner of said contest would win the extra ticket, and have the honor of going with me to the event. Being with me should be incentive enough to compete, the concert just gives us something to do.

So, to kick off the contest, here are a couple rules:

1. Showering Heather with gifts is accepted. However, gifts that cause an allergic reaction, or anything with a heartbeat automatically disqualifies you.

2. Good things earn you points, bad things will lost you points.
Example: taking Heather to Starbucks = points earned. Making Heather pay for it = points taken away.

3. Bribes will not be accepted, but flattery will. Even if it's bullshit.

4. If you show up at my apartment naked, I'll call the cops...then sick my dog on you.

Don't want to go through all this trouble of sucking up? Submit a proposal as to what you would do if you were my escort to the concert. All proposals will be carefully evaluated and considered.

I will keep a tally on all interested participants, and I will announce who the lucky winner is before concert time.

Good luck!!!

Phone Conversation

Paul: Congratulations!
Me: What for?
Paul: We are the proud parents of a 9 inch cucumber.
Me: Already? Cool!
Paul: I found it while watering the garden, hiding under some leaves.
Me: Are there any others?
Paul: Yes, but they are small.
Me: Did you name it?
Paul: Yes...Paul Jr.
Me: How do you know it's a boy??
Paul: I have a feeling...
Me: You know, we're going to eat Paul Jr.
Paul: Yes, I know.
Me: That gives new meaning to "eating our young".

Nurse Follies: A Culture of Caring Nurses

I had to go to a mandatory thingie this evening. I don't like driving in for meetings and whatnot because A. the parking sucks and B. I just don't like meetings. However, this was mandatory, worth one whole CEU. I opted to go in the evening because I knew my chances at finding a parking spot were more promising.

I go to the auditorium, and for two hours, I get to hear about how nurses are supposed to be caring and whatnot. I don't really get into the preachy stuff about my personal reasons for being a nurse, well, because it's personal. So, I simply say I became a nurse to support my cruise habit. I made it through the inservice without incident. Considering I haven't been feeling well since Sunday, "without incident" means not barfing on the nurse sitting in front of me. It did take some effort on my part, though. They played some audio of a lady talking about lifeforces and some other blather. I just concentrated on the piano music, and the scrambled eggs that wanted an encore appearance.

For two hours, it really wasn't as horrible as some other nurses told me. In fact, I was expecting something entirely different. Something I had gone through with a previous employer. Something that still makes me shudder when I think about it.

The last Culture Inservice thingie I went to, was a two-day event. I was told I would get to take a nap, and I would need to bring my own pillow. Hey, sounded like a great inservice to me! Wrong! It was orchestrated by some new-age shiester. The pillow? Well, at one point we were told to lay on the ground with our pillow. They turned off the lights. I immediately close my eyes to get a jump on my after-lunch nap. Suddenly, I feel hands on me. What? Someone tossed a sheet over me and was "tucking me in". I guess the idea was for us to feel how good it was to be tucked in, and maybe we should tuck our patients in at night.

Another activity involved half the group standing in a big circle, the other half in a smaller inside circle, facing everyone else. New-Age Shiester plays this sappy music as we are to move from one person to the next after 2 minutes, not saying anything, just holding their hands and looking at them. For some unknown reason (I personally think there was subliminal messages in the music), lots of people cried. Grown people, sobbing and hugging each other...with no reason. I was confounded! I'd stand across from Sobbing Sally, and I would just pat her on the arm. In one instance, I had to stand across from this ridiculously hot guy, who was notoriously gay, and hold his hands while we just stared at each other.

He cried, and all I could think was, "What a waste."

There were lots of other likewise activities with this Culture of Caring thing, but my mind has blocked them from being remembered because they were too traumatic. I do remember, though, going back to work, no more different than what I was before I took the class, which was also mandatory. I do know that Gay-boy seemed to avoid me for a while.

Hopefully, tomorrow I will feel better. Hopefully, I can get some laundry done because I have a mutant laundry pile in my bedroom. It's hard to be relaxed in my Tantric/Asian bedroom when there is a pile of dirty scrubs and underwear right there on the shag area rug.

It also makes yoga damn near impossible.

Who are the TWO!?!

If you are not a Harry Potter fan, you can just skip over this post. For all other rabid readers like myself, read on...

The news reports that JK Rowling was on some show and she revealed some interesting things about her seventh, and last, Harry Potter book. Most of the Q&A was boring as it was stuff we already knew, but the most interesting parts pertained to who gets it in the end. Originally, three were going to be killed off, but one found reprieve...which leaves the other two.

Who the hell could they be? The world is ripe with speculation, myself included.

Of course, they are going to be big characters, Rowling said they would be. I predicted that Dumbledore would buy it in book six, and I was right. It was high time for a high profile character to kick the bucket.

So, here is what I think. Everyone, feel free to chime in!

Death and Life Theories!

Well, we know Voldy's going to get it, because you just can't have the bad guy live in the end...so I don't think he is included in the two that Rowling has mentioned.

George or Fred Weasley? I think it could be one of these guys, if not both. It would be more tragic if one died and the other had to go on without him because they are twins in the truest of nature.

Molly Weasley? Maybe...maybe she will give her life in an effort to save one of her children.

Ron or Hermoine? Nah...Rowling has spent the past 6 books cultivating a romance between the two (and it STILL hasn't even come to pass!), I don't think she would kill either off after all that work.

Snape? Quite possibly. If he does get it, it will be because he trying to save Harry. I think it will happen after everything comes out and you feel sorry for the guy.

Hagrid? Also another strong possibility. One of the last of Harry's protectors getting the axe, and it would happen early in the story. The same would apply to Minerva.

Arthor Weasley? Nah...I think he's going to be the next Minister of Magic after all is said and done.

Draco? Maybe, but who would really care? The same also applies to Percy...and Lucius.

Harry? I'm still on the fence about this one. I can understand why Rowling would kill him off...so she wouldn't be pressured to write about him again. I would like to think she lets him live so he can actually try to have a happy life. I don't know if Rowling would consider Harry's death one of the two. From the interview, I got the impression that if he died, it would be in addition to the other two. I do know that if she does kill off Harry, she will probably be the most hated woman in the world...for a while.

Who got the reprieve? I think it's Ginny.

So, more than two people will kick the bucket, but the point being that the two are MAIN CHARACTERS. Everyone else who buys it, they are in the background and not really essential to the story...sort of like Cedric or Sirius (c'mon...admit you really didn't care when these two guys died).

Those are my thoughts. It will be interesting to see how it turns out.

Absorbent and Yellow and Porous is He!

Today, I ventured out of the house to the craft store to get more fabric for my toothbrush rug. I decided to see what they had that might make good pajama pants. I found a lovely Elvis print, then I decided to look for something a little more fun that a boy could wear. As I was perusing the fabric section, an older woman approached, an employee of said craft store. She asked in a voice reminiscent of Kathryn Hepburn, if she could help me.

Me: Yeah...do you guys carry Spongebob fabric?
Employee: Sponge fabric?
Me: No...Spongebob Squarepants.
Employee: We may have a sponge fabric (flexing hands in a manner that is supposed to indicate sponging).
Me: No...it's a cartoon. Spongebob Squarepants? He lives in a pineapple under the sea?? No???
Employee: (looking at me as if I just asked her to pull my finger in Japanese) Sponge...bob??
Me: Nevermind...do you have anything with Star Wars on it?
Employee: Star Wars?
Me: (Oh hell no, don't tell me you don't know what Star Wars is!) What about Disney characters??

I guess it was good I didn't ask about Captain Underpants.

Eventually, I was directed to the section of fabric where I found cartoon characters. They had Spongebob, Star Wars, and all things in between. I didn't see anything I thought would make good pants. However, I did see some ideas for fashionable loungewear on my cruise...which is only alittle over 6 months away.

Fun times with fruity prints!

The Cutthroat World of the Farmers' Market

I usually stop by the little farmers' market on my way home from work on Saturdays. I like going. I like being among the people, as we all share a common love for produce. I like looking at vegetables, my mind running rampant with ideas on how to cook them. I can grill a mean zucchini.

Last week, I found some farm-fresh eggs, a loaf of french bread, and two tomatoes. These were no ordinary tomatoes. They were as big as my head. The older gentleman who was peddling these mutant fruits was boasting that his tomatoes were grown in soil, not in water, and not in a greenhouse. He leans in and whispers, "Those tomatoes over there," indicating to another booth, "They are grown in a hot house. I don't see how they let them get away it with it!"

Indeed! There must have been some sort of conspiracy afoot. Terrorists must be involved, because no true American would ever dare sell subpar tomatoes at a Farmers Market.

Apparently, he was the tomato police, or he thought there should be some...ready to ban anyone who's tomatoes didn't meet the high expectations of the Farmer's Market.

Today, I stopped by the market...late. The loaves of french bread were sold out. The farm-fresh egg peddlers were missing-in-action, as was Man of the Tomato Conspiracy. I did manage to buy what looked like two ball-shaped zucchini (Eight-ball Zucchini to be more precise). I can hollow them out, stuff them and bake them. I will try this Monday and see how it turns out.

If it's nasty, there's always hot dogs.

Keys, Please!

For as long as I have owned keys, I worry about them. Call it one of those strange phobias, which is why I have two full sets of keys in case something happens to one of them.

I fear that I am going to drop them down a sewer drain. You know, those big things covered with grates that you can walk on. I don't like walking on them, but when I do, I have the Vulcan Death Grip on my keys.

I fear that I am going to lock them in my car. So,I clutch them in my little hand whenever I close my car door. I make sure they are in my direct line of site. I'm the same way about checking to make sure my debit card is in my wallet before I leave the house...even though I live alone and there is no reason for my debit card to be out.

Yes, I'm sick about this. You don't have to point that out.

I came to work, as I usually do on a Friday. I parked in the garage, gathered my things, got out of the car...

Why is it that you realize you lock your keys inside your car the very second the door closes???

There they were, plain as day, in the ignition...inside my locked car. I stood there, my face pressed against the glass, spewing forth a string of profanities as I watched my keys dangle carelessly. I don't know how it happened, as I am usually neurotic about them. It must have been the fact that Starbucks ran out of black tea, and I had to settle for the green tea instead.

Quickly, I dialed my mother and told her what happened. She laughed at me, which upset me even more. I asked her to go to my place and pick up my other set of keys. While this was easy, she pointed out that she didn't know how to get to my place of employment to bring me the second set. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that directing my mother to work would have been a bad idea because with her sense of direction, she would have ended up off of Prospect or something.

A little white hick woman going through menopause in a large, red Jeep Liberty = not a good idea.

So, I called my friend Ben and orchestrated a pass-off of the keys. An hour later, he arrived at work, my keys in hand. I raced up to my car, and rescued the first set. All I could think of, someone could come along and see this shiny car, keys in the ignition.

May as well hang a sign in the window: Free for the Taking!

Now, I will worry twice as much about my keys, even though this was the first time in over 10 years since I've locked my keys inside my car. Maybe I can make multiple copies and hide them in places I know I can get to in the event it ever happens again. Heather's keys hidden like Easter eggs.

I guess there are worse things to be mental over.

On Loans and Ice Cream

My brother is still on his crusade to find some poor, unsuspecting schmuck to co-sign on a "Bail Me Out Loan". While it was initially thought that this loan was for school purposes, the truth comes out that my little brother is up to his eyeballs in debt (like every other person in the country), and at risk of losing his house, his car, his manhood. The loan would pretty much save the farm.

But that doesn't mean I plan on turning over my signature.

My other brother came over yesterday to use the computer. Bless his heart, he even filled my empty ice cube tray without me even asking him too! He mentioned that John had called him last week to beg him to co-sign. When Mike wouldn't budge, John wanted to know if Mike would ask his girlfriend if she would cosign. Mike said no, John got mad and hung up.

It wasn't until later that Mom told me that he was seeking a loan to the tune of $16,000. Sixteen THOUSAND...which is more than what I paid for my car! If my little brother does find someone to cosign for that loan, that person will officially be the Dumbest Person on the Planet.

I tried to make homemade ice cream yesterday. My very first foray into that little area. I bought a handy little attachment for my KitchenAid a couple years ago, and I finally cracked open the box. I was so excited as I mixed the vanilla ice cream with the milk and crunched up Reeces Peanut Butter cups. I even made Mike stay so he could partake of my accomplishment.

Why didn't anyone tell me I had to use whole milk or heavier? I used 1%!! The ice cream came out the consistency of a shake, and had to be consumed with a straw. So, I made Blizzards instead of ice cream. Mike ate it anyway.

I have a new mission: to make the best homemade ice cream with the KitchenAid ice cream maker. So, it's back to the drawing board for me. Maybe next time, I will try strawberry. As with any good experiment, I need test subjects.

Do I have any volunteers?? (sound of crickets chirping)

My Eggs: Scrambled or Fertilized

I slept all day Monday until 6pm (sleeping 4 hours more than I had intended). Got up, took Mom out to dinner, came home, checked my email, went back to bed around 9:30pm. Slept until 1am, got up, had an egg sandwich, played Kingdom Hearts 2 until 7am, then went back to bed. Trish called around noon and wanted to know if I wanted to meet her for lunch. In my sleepy haze, I agreed but forgot to ask if she would be bringing her children.

We met at Applebees...me, her and her 3 boys. I love her boys like they were my own family, but even I have family members who I can only handle in small doses. After an outing with her sons, I am reminded why I never reproduced, and am filled with the urge to run to the bathroom and rip my uterus out with a salad fork. I am also reminded as to why my parents never took us anywhere until we were 20.

In spending time with the little ankle-biters, I am also aware of some obvious truths in the event I have any kids of my own...

1. I'm going to still be an asshole.
2. I am going to be hated by my children because I am going to be their parent, and not their best buddy.
3. Time out is for sissies, I'm going to spank them until my hand falls off.
4. I'm never taking them anywhere until they are 20.
5. "NO!" is going to be the most commonly uttered word in my vocabulary.

I do sometimes worry that maybe I have waited too long, and maybe I should have settled down sooner. I worry that in getting older, I become more set in my ways, and I will be a crappy parent. To hear the medical community tell it, I may not even have to worry about having children because my prime breeding age has passed, and my eggs are hard-boiled.

After lunch, I stopped by Bath and Body Works to buy more crap I can't use. They are having their big Semi-Annual Sale, and everything is dirt cheap. I finally figured out that I can't use a lot of their soaps and stuff because it makes me itch to the point I get welts, which is unfortunate because I like a lot of their stuff. I still go and buy it by the basketful, only to put it away in a big box, and save it for when I need to come up with a gift and am too lazy to leave the house and get it. I can just reach into my wonderful box of soap and lotion, and pull out a couple items. Drop them in a gift bag with a card (I have those by the bulk, too.), and give them away. Everyone loves Bath and Body junk.

From there, I stopped by Walmart. Say what you will about Walmart being lowbrow, but sometimes, you just can't shake a stick at their prices. I don't buy everything from Walmart, but I am not a complete and total snob either. Some things I get from Walmart, and somethings I get elsewhere. For example:

Bras and Panties - Department store
Socks - Walmart
Housewares - Target
Laundry soap - Walmart
Shoes - Department store
Cat litter - Walmart

Some things you can scrimp on, but there are some things where there is no other substitute...like Macaroni and Cheese (Kraft).

I was in the checkout line and there was a lady was ahead of me, with her toddler. The woman had pink hair. HOT PINK HAIR...like a troll doll. Why? WHY?? Who said this was cool for a parent?? If my mom were to show up at my place with hair this color, I wouldn't take her out in public either.

If she wanted to eat out, the skies the limit...as long as they delivered.

Nurse Follies: Another Weekend, Winding Down

So, I have to go back to work tonight. It's been an interesting weekend. Friday, I took a new admit. ER never said anything about the patient being hostile, but sure enough, as they brought him to his room, he fully lost his marbles. It took 5 people just to get him to bed...one person for each limb, and one person to make sure he didn't bite anyone. At one point, he looked up and me and said, "You have nice, straight teeth."

Then, he attempted to punch me in the mouth. My catlike reflexes enabled me to catch his balled up fist in mid-flight. Disgruntled, he kicked another nurse in the chest, and grabbed one of the male workers in the junk with a death grip meant to render said person sterile for the rest of his life.

And people wonder why nursing has such a high turnover rate. The least hospitals could do is give us Hazard Pay.

The next night, I had a patient fiddling with her insulin drip. I walked into the room 30 minutes after I adjusted it according to her blood sugar, and I had found the rate had been increased from 2 units an hour to 30 units an hour...which would mark the first time I uttered a colorful expletive in front of a patient. The patient denied any wrongdoing, but she looked guilty. IV pumps are not smart enough to reset themselves, but patients who spend a lot of time in hospitals have a good idea of how to work them.

I locked the pump for the remainder of the night.

I wonder what tonight will bring me. I can hardly wait.

Thursday Outing

Thursday night, I went out on another "outing" with Paul for his belated birthday. We went to Dave and Busters, had dinner, then went on the game side for a little light-hearted fun. Not too many kids running around, but lots of grown-ups. We played on the race games, we stood mesmerized at this one lady playing that game where you drop tokens to make more tokens fall into the bin. Paul became so focused on Shakira dancing on the television, that he managed to accidently rack himself on a handrail. Serves him right. Paul then wanted to do this picture thing where the machine takes the picture of a guy and a girl, then creates this image as to what your child would look like. His idea...not mine.

To avoid the further ridicule of my coworkers (who already say I am pregnant with Paul's offspring), I will not be posting this picture online...so don't even ask.

However, at least it's good to know that our daughter will not be ugly, but according to the computer, she will have a bad haircut. I told him that he is not allowed to take our children to Fantastic Sams...ever. He kept the picture, telling me he would give it to his mother because she is always complaining that he hasn't produced her any grandchildren yet.

There was this one section of the arcade, a racing game that can pit up to 7 people against each other in a NASCAR-type race. One of the fun things, there is a camera trained on every single person playing, with screens above the game consoles, and those screens display the "drivers". There was this one guy so into his game, he didn't notice the half-dozen people standing behind him, laughing hysterically because he looked so funny...eyes wide open, mouth open in some sort of focused sneer. He looked like Dad of Chucky...with a mop of gray hair.

We stood there and laughed, bent over with tears streaming down our faces, for a good 15 minutes.

After that, we drove home, stopping by a couple swankier-than-thou subdivisions to oogle at the new houses that are being built down the road from my house. Yes, it's somewhat depressing to look at $300K+ houses, then return to my dumpy apartment. I always wonder what these people do for a living, to be able to afford to live in such expensive places. My only answer is that these people are up to their eyeballs in debt. We did note, that a lot of them were for sale, so maybe my guess isn't too far from the truth. Maybe some of these people have to work 4 jobs and live off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and top ramen noodles...all for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Nothing else exciting, other than I almost got hammered by a speeding cop car on my way to work. The little douchebag had his lights and sirens running. I was just making my left-hand turn because the light was green, and he comes barreling over the hill like someone announced a sale at Krispy Kreme. Little asshat didn't even brake! Aren't they supposed to slow down somewhat when they go over hills and pass through intersections?? It could have ended a lot worse than me giving him the finger after he had already passed.

Had I been going any faster, I would have made the evening news.

The Funnest Thing I've Done Today

Besides doing the laundry, and going to that oh-so-exciting CPR class this morning, I ran a Google search as suggested by Rachel. Go to Google, type in your name followed by the word "needs". Put it all in quotes.

I'm amazed that Google knows me so well...

- Heather needs men...now!
- Heather needs TWO therapists
- Heather needs to start wearing a bra
- Heather needs a childhood
- Heather needs rest

I ran Kathryn's name, and I kid you not: Kathryn Needs to give Heather lots of Dove Chocolate Bars. :o)

Nurse Follies: The ER

I don't work in the ER, but I have friends that do. After hearing about some of the crap they have to put up with, I am eternally grateful I didn't take a job down there fresh out of school. It takes a special breed of nurse to stomach working there. While there are some really, really good nurses, there are also the assholes who have attitude over most other nurses because they have the "I save lives" complex.

Hey...I save lives, too. So, go blow yourselves!

But I digress...

I never cease to be amazed at some of the stories I hear coming from that department. Oh sure, you get the obligatory "seek and find" cases where the staff gets to delve into orifices in search of things deliberately put there, only to be told, "I was walking around naked, and slipped and fell. That's how that jar of grape jelly ended up in my ass."

Other asshat visits to the ER:
- a hang nail with no complaints of pain
- Gum stuck in long blond (bleached) hair
- a blister on the right toe
- child has lice
- female cut a fingernail to short and it hurt
- a paternity test, as he was due in court IN SIX HOURS!!
- totally well, but needing a work excuse for a sick day sometime last week
- mosquito bite
- A man with a ring on his penis- which was easily removed with lubricant
- "My girlfriend said her Doctor told her she had herpes. I wanna see if I got Herpes, too."
- came in wanting to have his blackheads removed
- wanted his ears cleaned
- Being drunk and requesting detox until social security check arrives
- "to have my wife checked out to see of she has been sleeping around"
- school vaccinations
- "When I get cold, my nipples get hard"
- chapped lips
- Daughter swallowed her gum
- Wanting Viagra

Again, I digress...

I was reading today about some blurb that proclaimed, "U.S. emergency rooms are understaffed, overwhelmed and could not cope with a crisis, whether a pandemic, attack or natural disaster, according to three reports released on Wednesday."

Well, no shit, Sherlock. Maybe if people came to the ER with actual emergencies, emergency rooms across the nation wouldn't be so clogged down. You hear about hospitals on diversion because they are too full to take anymore patients. Laypeople are just shocked when they read about this. SHOCKED! Lots of folks out there think that working in the ER is a lot like the tv show. Some of my friends get pissed when people compare the tv show to real life.

Let me tell you, not once have I ever heard of a helicoptor dropping in through the ceiling and taking out the biggest asshole doctor to wear a white coat.

Again, I digress...

Maybe if regulations were implimented that would prevent ER abuses, things might improve. Things that prevent those assclowns who come in at 1am wanting a pregnancy test (because they are too cheap to go out and actually purchase one at the 24-hour Walmart). Lots of people use the ER as someone might go visit their doctor's office. There's a reason some patients are referred to as "frequent flyers". Sometimes, it's not a matter of having insurance.

It's a matter of people being stupid...and the world is full of stupid people.

On Top of the Suckiness Scale

I just had the dubious misfortune to hear the new music of Paris Hilton...and I must say, if you anyone was ever wondering what Betty Boop would sound like if she entered the forum of pop music entertainment, chances are pretty good she would sound a lot like the garbage that Paris touts as the next BIG THING.

I saw it in video form. My ears are bleeding, as well as my eyes. It sucks something awful. The only thing that would be worse is a duet between Paris and Jessica Simpson.

But impressionable, young, teenage dimwits will love it.

Suffer the Little Ones

Normally, I don't care to offer a great deal of commentary on all things in the news unless it pisses me off, or I find great amusement in it. There are plenty of people in Blogdom who recap the news in ways that I never could (like Tony), and I am more than content to read their blogs.

However, after reading this news story...I had to say something.

Recap: A lady in St. Louis buys a puppy from a breeder. A chihuahua. She takes the puppy home, and the puppy gets sick. She takes the puppy to a veterinarian who tells her the puppy is only 4 weeks old, not mature enough to be on its own, and needs to be returned to it's mother immediately. Before this can happen, the puppy dies.

Now, this is where it gets interesting.

Owner of said dead puppy takes takes it back to the breeder's house around 6am, pushing her way into the house, demanding another dog to replace the one that died. She's pulling the hair of the breeder (whom I assume was a woman because no man would ever stand for the following bullshit), then she starts beating the breeder...WITH THE DEAD PUPPY.

A chihuahua is the world's smallest breed of dog. Fully grown, they seldom weigh more the 6lbs. I cannot even imagine that a 4 week old puppy weighed even 1lb, but still this lady (whom obviously has some sort of mental disturbance) was beating the breeder in the head with a dead chihuahua.

The beatings end, and the grief-stricken owner takes the dead puppy and retreats to her car. Before driving away, she waves the puppy out of the sunroof and makes threats to the breeder and her family.

"I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dogs, too!"

Okay, so she really didn't say that, but it would have been perfect if she did.

I don't really feel overwhelming pity for the owner because she apparently needs a dosage adjustment in her meds. I don't feel bad for the breeder either. Stupid bitch deserved to get boinked in the head for selling them before they were well enough to be on their own. (I'm sure a shitstorm is going to rain down on her by reputable breeders in the coming weeks.)

I just feel bad for the puppy. I know, the puppy was dead and couldn't feel a thing, but what an undignified way to leave the world...as a tool of violence. What happened to the days when simple assault was carried out with a pipe, or baseball bat, or a Maglite? Now, people are resorting to animals.

The next thing we will hear about is George Bush being pelted with hamsters.

Yo quero hospital visit.

Nurse Follies: Some Dude

With summer upon us, the activities of Some Dude usually increase. Apparently, Some Dude doesn't like to go outside in the winter.

If you don't know Some Dude personally, then you have at least heard of him. I know every doctor and nurse who works in the ER has. The purveyor of ill-will and naughty shananigans. He is lying out there, waiting for th opportunity to jump insuspecting innocent bystanders, who are doing nothing more than, ahem, minding their own business.

Nurse: Sir, can you tell me what happened?
Patient: Well, I was just sitting on my porch, minding my own business, when Some Dude just came up and hit me/stabbed me/shot me (pick one).
Nurse: Was this someone you knew?
Patient: Never seen him before in my life. I think he was a crack dealer, but I couldn't be certain because I don't do drugs.
Nurse: (inspecting burn marks on patient hands)

Sometimes, he's even accompanied by Some Bitch and/or Some Guy. We are not certain if they are related, or just good friends. Sometimes, these people do the dirty work for Some Dude. Sometimes, they strike out on their own to cause mayhem.

For years and years, Some Dude has eluded police. It's not just Kansas City. It's ALL cities. Some Dude gets around. Sometimes, he even attacks more than 5 people a night. You'd think with so many people, they could at least have a sketch of him or something, but no. Some Dude is particularly sneaky as no one ever can get a clear look at his face.

Some Dude is single-handedly responsible for the elevating crime rates everywhere. If we can apprehend Some Dude and his cohorts, then innocent, drug-free citizens can go about sitting on their porches in peace drinking their not-alcoholic beverages, without fear of being attacked for no reason.

He's out there, people. He's waiting.

In the End...Silence

Busy week...where to begin.

Earlier this week, I found out one of my coworkers died at home. A seemingly healthy guy in his early 40's, just dropped dead in his bathroom. I guess he wasn't so healthy. I didn't work with him very often as he usually worked during the week and I work weekends...but when I did work with him, he was usually nice to me...even though he complained a lot about how sick the patients were.

If there is one universal truth, there is a plan for everyone. When it is our turn to go, it doesn't matter what we are doing...it's going to happen. When I die, I hope I'm not sitting on the toilet or anything. I hope it's while I'm doing something I absolutely hate so I don't have to finish it. If I go while doing something I love (like being in the Caribbean), I'm going to be pissed.

So, the sudden departure of our colleague left my floor short-staffed. I went in last night to help out for 8 hours. It wasn't a bad night, and everyone is still in shock...like we expect to see him come in through the double doors and clock in. It's strange knowing that someone can be there one minute, and gone the next.

Some strangers came to floor to ask about it. People who didn't even know the guy! Nosy little bastards...go find someone else's ill-fortune to pick over for gossip. I ever heard two people blathering about it near the cafeteria. Hospital hot topic. Whatever. They need to go back to discussing which resident is shagging which nurse in the broom closet.

Today, Mom decided to venture out on her own and go stay at her own place. She hasn't moved everything out yet, but she is working at it. She has enough stuff in her apartment to make a go of it...so why not. I think she seemed kind of sad to leave, but there comes a time when we all must leave the nest. After she packed her little bag, took her toiletries and whatnot, she left. I sat in my apartment and marveled at how quiet everything seemed. My mother was not a loud roommate, but still...you get used to someone being around for a while, you notice it when they are suddenly not there.

But that doesn't mean I plan on taking on another roommate. If I have to live with another warm body under my roof, rest assured that we will have the same last name, but not linked by DNA.

I don't have any Cheetos on hand, so I think I am going to fix me a grilled turkey and cheese sandwich, maybe watch a movie (not so sure about being naked tonight). I have a huge blister on my foot from my new tenny-shoes. I've been inspired to get my ass in shape...which means actually using my gym membership.

For the first time in a long time, I have Saturday night off. I was originally slated to shoot a wedding for a friend I used to work with. She called me yesterday to tell me the wedding had been postponed until Christmas. They were too young to get married anyway. I thought about going in to work, but I think I shall help Mom move out the rest of her stuff, then maybe take in one of the half-dozen movies I've been wanting to see.

Maybe I will even buy some Cheetos and bring them home!

The Things That Make My Blood Run Cold

I don't consider myself as a fearful person. However, my mother uttered the words last night that made me break out into a cold sweat.

"Your brother quit his job."

Great! I knew I could count on a call from him the immediate future. I was not to be disappointed as he called my house numerous times before I caved and answered the phone.

Brother: I need a favor from you.
Me: The Bank of Heather is closed.
Brother: No, I don't need any money (yet). I need for you to co-sign on a loan for me.
Me: Why?
Brother: I'm going back to school and I need a student loan.
Me: You should qualify for grants, why do you need a loan?
Brother: Well, the BI Bill is covering the cost of school. I just need a loan to live off of while I'm going to school.
Me: And this is the loan you want me to co-sign for?
Brother: Yes.
Me: No.

I explained that I am trying to get my house in order so I can buy a house of my own within the next couple of months, and that means not over-extending myself credit-wise. I couldn't possibly co-sign for anything.

Besides, I know for a fact that my brother is not exactly, uhh, dedicated to paying his bills...which is why his bill collectors are calling my house looking for him. Me co-signing for a loan for him would be like me paying for a car I never owned. As an added overture in an attempt to change my mind, he added, "If I get the loan, I can pay back all the money I already owe you."

Thanks, but I'll pass.

He wanted to know my credit score so he could analyze it and see if I was a suitable candidate to co-sign. Sorry...my credit score is no one's business. Besides, my brother has no background in finance. I wasn't biting.

After deciding that he wasn't going to get anywhere with me, he said a hurried good-bye and hung up in a huff. I'm sure he'll be mad at me for a while. That his own sister wouldn't bail him out...again. I'm still miffed that a guy with two kids and wife would quit his job without having another job lined up. He said he hated his boss and that is why he quit.

I'm not exactly thrilled with my boss either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to up and quit without a notice.

I suppose there is a lesson to be learned in all this. Don't ever start "loaning" family members money...ever. After a while, they come to expect it, and then get pissed off when you say no. I didn't go through the trauma that is nursing school just so I could support everyone else when they decided to quit their jobs. Just because I am single with no dependents doesn't mean I have all this money laying around to just hand out.

I just hate being thought of as someone's safety net.

Grrrr!

Here Comes the Bride...and the Bride

Everyone is getting on the gay-marriage wagon. They are either for it, against it, or don't care either way. I guess you could put me in the last category. Considering how the institute of marriage is held in such esteem in my family (NOT!), my faith and confidence in it is somewhat diminished. It's almost laughable when activists claim that gay marriage will destroy the sanctity of marriage.

And a national divorce rate striving for 75% doesn't? Heterosexual couples have done a bang-up job of pissing on marriage, why not let the homosexuals have a stab at it??

But then, if states pass laws that permit gay marriage, then they have to open the flood gates for every kind of marriage because that "between a man and a woman" thing would be a moot point.

This also includes polygamy.

It never occurred to me that polygamists would be in favor of gay marriage, because most religious zealots are most decidedly anti-gay. However, some are in favor for it, if not to further their own agenda. This is frightening when you think of those scary little Fundamentalists who engage in molesting children under the guise of "God told me to do it". They want gay marriage to pass so they can push for the legalization of polygamy. After all, how can you do for one special interest, and not everyone else?

And just like that, polygamy could be legal in the United States once more.

Breakfast of Champions

After a long shift of dealing with one resident who kept calling me and asking all kinds of really dumb questions, my friend P and I decided to stop by the hospital cafeteria for breakfast this morning. It just sounded good.

On weekends, it's pretty much self-serve. This includes the waffle-maker. They have those waffle makers you see in hotels that offer the free continental breakfast. They give you little cups of batter, and you pour it yourself onto the griddle, flip it over, and then when the timer buzzes, you have a waffle. Yum!

So we are standing there, surveying the setup when my friend grabs a cup of batter and pours it into the griddle. She had never used the big, industrial waffle makers, so she assumed the batter was measured right, and dumped the whole cup. Naturally, when the lid was closed, the batter ran over the side of the waffle iron and onto the counter. I grabbed a cup and poured what I thought was a good amount, but the same thing happens. The cafeteria worker comes over in a huff to clean up the mess. P and myself are very apologetic, and look, there are other nurses watching because they want waffles too.

Surly Cafeteria Lady (SCL) grumbles that the messes have been happening all morning and she should just stand by the waffle iron and make the damn waffles herself so she wouldn't have to clean up the mess. One nurse helpfully suggests that a sign should be put up telling people not to dump the entire cup into the waffle iron. SCL continues to bitch that people would still make a mess, and she's pretty insulting about it. She even turns to another cafeteria worker to complain about it with us standing right there, as if we weren't.

Considering I was already in Annoyed Mode, I just suggest they try putting the correct amount of batter into the cups if they really didn't want to clean up a mess.

SCL glares at me then goes to tend to the oatmeal. I think she was mostly mad because she had to work on Sunday. Whatever. I work every Sunday...you get no sympathy from me.

The waffles were tasty anyway.

The Exciting Life I Lead

Today, I'm doing laundry. For a little extra excitement, I stopped by Taco Bell for lunch. The cup that came with my meal says I could be the next El Presidente of Taco Bell, and I need to just plug in some code on the cup to their website. I could win one million pesos.

Which roughly translates to $9.26. Just enough money to buy more Taco Bell.

This evening, my brother is coming over and helping Mom move some of her stuff to her new apartment. This weekend, she plans on moving furniture in. By Monday, my apartment should be Mom-free.

I plan on celebrating this marvelous event by sitting naked on my couch, eating Cheetos, and watching Napoleon Dynamite.

I worked an extra 8 hours on Tuesday for another nurse. Yesterday afternoon, work called and begged me to come in last night. I got the message too late, not that I would have gone in. I'm well aware of who was working last night. Most of the other nurses had also agreed that my floor was not the place to be Wednesday night. It's bad when you know it's going to be a horrible night just by looking at who is scheduled.

On another work-related note, I told my Bosshole yesterday not to stroke out if transfer papers with my name cross his desk in the near-future. Being the blatantly honest person I am, I told him that working on his floor is not what I want to do with my career for the rest of my life. Surprisingly, he wasn't an asshole about it. I don't think he wants to retire working on his floor either. Also surprisingly, he was very supportive about a lateral transfer. I secretly think he hopes I go away as much as I do.

Yesterday, I went back to my salon for round two of "Get the Red Out". My hair is now mostly blonde, save for a couple streaks of red that just won't die. Oh well. I'm going to lay off the bleach for now because I don't want a chemical haircut. Amy did cut my hair, now I have a super cute short haircut, just in time for summer. It was another all-day-at-the-salon-day, but I got lasagne, a t-shirt, and free hair product. Amy rocks!

Today, I was dorking around online, and I discovered that someone I went to high school with is one of the Chief Nursing Officers-In Training at Research Hospital. This same guy who was the BMOC (Big Man on Campus), the guy that every girl salivated over, the popular jock, the son of the school principal (who was busted for embezzlement or something like that)...is a nurse. A nurse!!! I always thought he would move on to anything...besides being in the thankless field of nursing. Of course, he's going to be a CNO, which means he doesn't get his hands dirty in blood or any other body fluid, and his main job is to smile a lot, and technically, he's not really a nurse-nurse now. He's more a Bosshole.

Even so, I still crack up when I think about it. I wonder if in those early days, playing football, the tuba, his poofy-haired girlfriends, and whatever other preppy crap he did in high school, it ever once crossed his mind that he would go on to become a nurse.

It also makes me wonder about some of the other folks I went to high school with. I'm not bored enough to go looking, but it still makes me wonder.