Special and Unique...Just Like Everyone Else

Paul(ND!) sent me an email earlier this week. It was one of those flowerly, feel-good emails that's supposed to let the reader know how special the sender thinks they are. Paul never sends me stuff like this.

For a minute, I was hopeful. Could it be that he's finally coming to terms with his secret love for me??

My eyes drifted upward and noticed he sent it to twelve other people. The least he could have done was send it BCC.

Butthole.

Going From Suck to Blow

Last night, I was going to make an entire evening of cleaning. Vacuum the carpet, drag out the Hoover, and steam clean the entire upstairs. This plan was thwarted when my vacuum cleaner gave up the ghost. I had just finished my room when a big cloud of smoke and the smell of burt rubber and metal wafted from the thing. The entire upstairs smelled like burnt garbage. It was horrible. Even worse, I hadn't gotten to the office, nor Brother's room. That room hasn't seen the vacuum cleaner since the day he moved in. I can only imagine how bad it is. I don't go in that room. I'm too scared to do it.

At any rate, I find myself in need of a new vacuum cleaner. The one that just died, I've had for about 4 years, and it was around $50 at Walmart. Considering that I have pets that shed enough fur to make a winter coat of my own, I thought the vacuum held up surprisingly well. It was a Bissell.

I know a lot of nurses have purchased Dysons. In fact, I think one of the requirements to work on our surgical ICU, is to own one. I hear they are good vacuum cleaners to have, but in the past, I've balked at the price. Probably because I was a poor college student and found other things I'd rather spend my money on.

Then, there are the Electrolux cleaners. Kant's mom had one that she first got when Kant was a baby, if not before. It lasted forever, and The Lue swore by them. She got a new one as a gift a few years ago, and I believe the old Electrolux was passed down to the son. Or something like that. However, I know Electrolux has changed hands fairly recently, so I don't know how their most current models stand up. Fairly within the same price range as the Dyson.

Kirby? I'm not dropping a grand on a vacuum. I don't care what kind of attachments it comes with. I dated a guy who was suckered into buying one. Dumbass.

I've read reviews on probably every well known cleaner out there. Some good, some bad. In the end, I came back to the Dyson because it was the brand I read the most positive things about.

So this is the one I am looking at. It's red! Like a sports car!! And purple!! It looks like the official sponsor of the Red Hat Society. In the end, I don't really care what it looks like, as long as it gets the job done, and it's going to last me long enough to get my money out of it. For $400, it better work wonders on the carpet. In fact, it better make my carpets so clean, I could eat off it without so much a cat hair in my food. I don't mind shelling out dollars for a quality item, but it better last me until I die. (As it stands, I paid dearly for my cookware and forged cutlery that has a lifetime guarantee...so when I die, I fully expect to be buried with all of it.)

So, I ask you, oh loyal readers (all five of you), if you have ever owned a Dyson? What was you experience? Do you have a suggestion for another good vacuum cleaner? (And don't say Hoover Wind Tunnel...I've yet to read a good review about those.)

I'm all ears!

Hot Lovin'...but Not In Kansas

Recently, a grand jury in Johnson County handed down indictments to three businesses for promoting obscenity. One being a Halloween store for selling "obscene costumes" with names such as: Snake Charmer, and Country Lovin', Wet T-Shirt, and Tricky Dick. The second business sells adult videos. The third business being Priscilla's for selling "sex toys, including a dildo."

Isn't that "including a dildo" rather redundant? I mean, they already mentioned sex toys.

These three businesses are being called to the mat not because they enticed young children, (However, in the case of the Halloween costumes, I think it would be prudent to put them in a location in the store not easily viewed by children) but because these businesses violate some mandate handed down from a grand jury in 1989 that outlines what is a breach of community standards.

The Puritans are alive and well and JoCo. Welcome to the Bible Belt, folks. A place where you can find a swingers club without exerting hardly any effort, but selling a porno "without a significant storyline or plot" will land you in court.

I'm not a connoisseur of porn by any standards. Hell, I don't even own porn (I have trouble keeping up with Netflix as it is), but far be it from me to say what other people can and should watch. The same goes for toys. I don't care what adults do in terms of sex, as long as it's consensual, and children are not involved.

Besides, most places that sell adult items (Halloween shop aside) have an age limit, do they not? You have to be an adult to enter. And by being an adult, that means you are legally old enough to make your own choice as to what you are exposed to. Don't like it? Don't look at it.

I know a lot of people in healthy relationships, marriages even, who utilize things like movies and toys to enhance what they do behind closed doors. The fact that some people would like to make it sound like anyone who watches adult movies or uses toys is in some way a sexual deviant or pedophile is way off base. Hell, the people who probably think that still believe that sex should no way be enjoyed and is for procreational purposes only. From my observations, the religious zealots who cry "obscene" the loudest, are usually the ones with the most skeletons hidden in their closets. Just ask Larry Craig, Jim Bakker, and Ted Haggard.

What's next? They going to go after those people who do Passion Parties? Burn them at the stake! Flog them with the double-ended two foot pink jelly dong!! When the Moral Majority is finished, they can outlaw sex to missionary positions only, and only on days that coincide with the fertility cycles of women...which will also be monitored under law.

There are problems with crime, drug use, and child abuse...and THIS is what the Moral Majority of Johnson County focuses on?? I worked in a JoCo hospital for almost 8 years. I know all about the dirty little secrets of its citizens. A business selling an inflatable sheep should be the least of their worries.

It makes me glad I decided not to buy a house on the Kansas side. Sure, my roads may not be the greatest...but at least I don't have to worry about the government invading my bedroom.

You JoCo folks should be worried. Very worried.

Rainy Days Always Get Me Down

Wasn't that a Carpenters' song? I have some Carpenters music on my iPod, and despite Karen Carpenter having a good singing voice (not to mention she was a drummer, which is near and dear to my heart), I find that whenever I hear a Carpenters song, it has a depressing effect. The song could be about happiness and joy, and I would still have the urge to toss myself off a bridge.

I should take the Carpenters music off the iPod.

Anyway, here at home. It's rainy outside. While it's perfect sleeping weather, I'm wide awake...having been that way since seven this morning. Brother brought me some delicious McDonalds coffee, which I had with some multi-grain oatmeal. I'm trying to be better about what I eat. I have a year to get into hottie-mode for my next Caribbean trip.

The weekend passed with much of the same and then some. I found another nurse to work for me on Saturday so I could go to the Plaza Art Fair with Paul (ND!). I didn't see anything remarkable there, other than the $1.95 Angus burger that I suspect wasn't entirely all-beef. At any rate, the burger was good, and pretty much the only thing I ate that entire day. The art...I wasn't too impressed. I have issues with modern art, and I have mentioned this before. After a while, all the art started to look the same. Just because you throw something together and call it art, doesn't necessarily make you a professional artist. Much in the same matter that putting pictures of yourself on the internet doesn't make you a model either. Anyway, there were a couple things that I would considering hanging in my living room, but I wasn't about to shell out a grand for a picture of a flower basket.

Sunday night at worked sucked. I found myself running non-stop, barely squeezing enough time to snarf down a salad. At one point, someone announced a patient couldn't breathe, and I was able to test the sprint-ability of my clogs. I don't think I've ran that fast since my high school track days.

I also figured out that the intense pain in my left foot is plantar fasciitis. Maybe running in clogs isn't such a great idea. Two other nurses on my floor has/had it, and they had to wear this big dorky boot while working, to which other nurses made fun of them. I don't particularly want to wear the big, dorky boot...because I was one of the nurses who made fun of it. My coworkers have already warned me that if I wear the boot, I will be the lucky recipient of dorky-boot comments.

As of late, I've been reflecting on how much I loathe my job, or more to the point, the floor I work on. At first, I considered cutting back on the weekend hours and working two of the weekend shifts instead of all three. Bosshole told me that such a position didn't exist and it was either all or nothing. Ugh. Now, I'm contemplating doing travel nursing after the first of the year if the money is comparable to what I make now. I've spoken with Brother about him staying at the house while I travel, to which he enthusiastically replied, "Cool! Then I could turn the place into a brothel!"

Only if I get a cut...and only if I get to come home to a clean house.

Incidentally, Brother reports that a couple was found in a compromising position at work last night. She was polishing his chrome pipe, as it were. It's good to know that he has interesting work stories to share as well.

I think I may take my Carpenters-less iPod and head to the gym this morning to spend some quality time on the bike. Then, I can come home and maybe take a nap, because that's what rainy days are for.

Nurse Follies: The One-Woman Drug Counselor

I don't particularly care for taking care of the addicts. Yeah, I know they have a problem, and they can't help it, and blah, blah, blah. After years in this field, I have come to the realization that the addicts are usually the worst manipulators and biggest assholes. Thank you doesn't appear to be in their vocabulary. Following are a couple examples of what I get to deal with.

Patient: I need something for pain.
Me: I just gave you your pain medicine 15 minutes ago.
Patient: I know, but they are not working.
Me: Sir, you have to give the pills time to get into your system so they can work.
Patient: I need something stronger.
Me: I'm sorry, but the doctor won't give you anything else.
Patient: (whining voice) But I am an addict!
Me: I'm well aware of that, sir.
Patient: I need stronger meds. I'm allergic to pills.
Patient Wife: (sitting at bedside) That's bullshit.

Patient: I have a headache.
Me: Would you like some Tylenol for your headache?
Patient: No, Tylenol doesn't work for my headaches.
Me: Some Ibuprofen?
Patient: No, that doesn't work either. Got any coke?
Me: Coke? Like soda??
Patient: Cocaine. Cocaine really helps with my headaches. Got any of that?
Me: (stunned disbelief) No...we're fresh out.

Me: Sir, I need to put another IV in.
Patient: OK, just so you know...I'm a really hard stick.
Me: (inspecting the needle tracks on the arms...the legs...the feet) I can tell.
Patient: But... (lifting arm and slapping spot with flat hand a couple times) If you try right there, you might be able to get one in. I've always had good luck there.

Patient: (groggy) I'm an alcoholic, you see.
Me: Hmmm.
Patient: So, I am going to need something to knock me out so I don't go through detox.
Me: Do you take anything at home?
Patient: I usually smoke crack.

Me: (answering phone) How can I help you?
Family Member: (irate) My mama just called me and said you won't give her pain meds!
Me: I assure you that she gets her pain meds when they are scheduled.
Family Member: Well, Mama says you don't give them right.
Me: If you are referring to the fact that she wants her injections at full strength in the closest IV port, you would be correct. Only, we don't give our narcotics that way here.
Family Member: (not so irate) Yeah...she likes her drugs.
Me: I gathered...
Family Member: But Mama also says she's bleeding to death and you won't help her.
Me: You would be referring to her picking her nose to the point it started to bleed. It has since stopped.
Family Member: Yeah...Mama did have that habit, too.

Patient: I really need to smoke.
Me: It's a federal law that smoking is no allowed in hospitals. You, sir, are not to leave the floor while you are on this cardiac drip. I can call the doctor and get an order for nicotine patch.
Patient: How about pot?
Me: What?
Patient: Can I smoke pot? I could smoke it in the bathroom.
Me: That would also be a no.
Patient: Well, I could anyway. What are you going to do about it?
Me: I'm going to grab a fire extinguisher out in the hall, and I am going to charge in here and extinguish anything that is smoking and whatever happens to be attached to it. Then, the police will come up here and write you a ticket for smoking in the hospital.
Patient Wife: (giggling) You're really funny.
Me: I wasn't joking.

Me: (on the phone at 3am) Mrs. So-and-So? I'm calling about your daughter. It appears she has left AMA and we were wondering if you have heard from her.
Patient Mom: No. She left?
Me: Yes. She pulled out her IV, packed her stuff, and left while we were all busy in another patient room.
Patient Mom: No...we haven't heard from her.
Me: Oh. Well, if you hear from her, can you tell her to call us or her doctor?
Patient Mom: Won't do any good. She probably left to go turn a trick so she can get her crack fix.
Me: Oh...well...ummm...sorry to have bothered you. You have a nice night.

This is exactly why I went into nursing...NOT.

I'm Not a Failure

My far away friend, Rachel, posted this awesome post the other day about church, marriage, and all the things that are tied with it. Initially, it pissed me off (as it did Rachel), and then I experienced some feelings of hurt. I can't really add a whole lot to what she said because she said it perfectly, but instead I can only reflect on my own personal feelings in the matter of the Mormon Church, marriage, and me.

Even though I haven't been going to church, I don't hate it. Being a Mormon is still part of my identity, but it is not the primary thing that identifies me. Much like being a nurse. I still admire the way the church values family. Their charitable nature. I can listen to a General Authority speak and know he's just not paying me lip service in exchange for a monetary contribution.

I work weekends, so going to church really isn't an option because it's too hard to stay awake to attend, but maybe I use that as an excuse not to go. I'm too old to attend singles branch (congregation consisting only of singles under 30), and when I've tried to attend the family wards, I'm sort of an island. Sitting by myself. Curious looks in my direction and my wrinkled scrubs. From their looks, I can tell they are wondering why I am alone. It's that look that all older singles get because if you are single and over 30, then there is something wrong with you. Whether it be you are ugly, or mentally unbalanced, or you are divorced (which is just as bad).

I'm not single because no one will have me. I'm single because I choose to be. A lot of those older women in the church don't understand that. They don't understand how someone could willingly chose to be single...and be HAPPY about it. They don't think that a single person could possibly have something valuable to contribute other than babysitting in the church nursery while the marrieds can go to Sacrament.

(I must point out that it's the members (not all, but a certain few) that engage in this mindset. The higher-ups in the church have admonished members for bring retarded in this manner...but to no success.)

I don't think of myself as a failure for not being married. I still think that I can be a valuable member of society while still carrying my father's name. I believe there is more to me than my child-bearing capabilities. I have a degree, a career, a home, friends. Why, then, do some people look at me as being less than a person because I never knelt at the altar? When I am around members my age who have families, they talk about their husbands and children, and when I speak about things that are going on in the world, I am met with blank stares.

I've known girls who have literally sat and waited for their "eternal companion" to come along. Why get a college degree when you are just going to be a stay-at-home Mom? Why buy a house when your husband is just going to buy one when you get married? Why go see places when that is something you are going to do with your husband? I remember sitting in my Bishop's office with a couple other girls discussing the fact that one of the high counselors in the women's group was single, and one girl loudly announced, "I'd rather be dead than 40 and no married!" She was only 22.

At any rate, most girls I know that married really young are either divorced, or are in crappy marriages and won't get out of them because they don't want the gossiping old bats in church to think of them as failures. The ones who waited to get married, who wanted to experience life before they took the vows...they have the most solid marriages I know of. They are equal partners, and they can talk to you about more than what can be done with a can of cream of mushroom soup. I would also like to point out that these girls were raised in families that encouraged personal growth and independence.

I'm not ruling out the possibility of ever taking the plunge, but I want it to be on my terms. Not because it was expected of me. Maybe someday I will (in the event a certain Catholic pulls his head out of his ass...). Until that time happens, I will just go on living my life, doing the things that bring me joy, and not being a failure.

How About A Warm Glass of Shut the Hell Up?

It's only been a couple days since Hannah Montana sold out her KC show within minutes, and parents around the metro are still bitching. Bitching because after promising their little ankle-biters they would have tickets to see a fictional character from a Disney show, they can't deliver the goods because said tickets were sold out within minutes of going on sale. Bitching because now they have to see the disappointment on the faces of their dear, spoiled little poopsies! A recent search of the message boards on the KC Star's site, reveal little pearls such as:

I, too, tried to purchase Hannah Montana tickets via Ticketmaster beginning
at 10:00 am, with no luck. My daughter is heartbroken!

I think that it is ridiculous that parents can't get tickets. My daughter is
11 and still doesn't understand why I couldn't get her tickets so I look like
the bad guy.

My daughter was in tears on Saturday when we could not purchase a ticket to
the Hannah Montana concert.

My granddaughters birthday is Friday, she will 9, I promised her for her
birthday that I would get her Hannah Montana tickets, my son was on the computer
at 9:58 and my daughter-in-law was at the Hen House on College, I was at the one
in Merriam, needless to say we never got tickets so somehow when Vanessa opens
her presents on Friday I will have to explain to her how Grandma couldn't get
tickets because people are so greedy to make a profit!! What is going on in this
world.

My daughter is a huge fan she just had a Hanna Montana b-day party have told
her for months i would take her when she came to KC.I figured the tickets would
go that fast.But i no that someone purchased this tickets to make money. It is
not fare to our children to suffer for some one being selfish and greedy.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You people make it sound like someone snuck into your house in the middle of the night and stole everyone's left kidney.

Perhaps the more appropriate response of parents would be to have initially told their children, "It would be nice to go, and I will try to get the tickets. However, there is a good chance we might not be able to get them." Upon not getting them, it could be a lesson learned that you don't always get everything you want in life, even if it was promised to you.

You know there will be no lesson learned from this. Parents, after much whining and complaining, will end up shelling out obscene amounts of money for a children's concert because today's parents are nothing more than a bunch of pussies, turning their children into America's next generation of candyasses so that all foreign countries can loathe and despise.

Was there really this much hysteria when Barney came to town??

Parents are crying en masse. Call your congressman! Boycott the Sprint Center!! You know various elected officials will puff out their chests and make grandstanding gestures promising to get to the bottom of the evil, corrupt individuals who are undermining the American way of life and making little children cry. Meanwhile, people who still have functioning brain cells, are left to roll their eyes and wonder why such an effort isn't being directed to tackle real problems.

This isn't a ticket broker issue. This is the issue of a supply from a little arena not able to meet the demands of thousands of coddling parents. If you figure that by buying 4 tickets each, roughly 4500 people will be able to buy tickets. Hannah Montana in the Midwest will only include Omaha, St. Louis, and Kansas City. Considering that people from all over the Midwest will be competing for these tickets, do people really think that a majority of those who actually get tickets will be from the Kansas City area? Or do they think that only Kansas City residents should be entitled to the tickets because the Sprint Center happens to be in our town?

Dumbasses. Why don't you guys take a course in economics?

I don't recall so many people whining and crying when Elton John sold out.

Grow up! Even better, take your children to the museum.

Nurse Follies: Reeling Us In

With the shortage of nurses, we have seen an increase in the marketing for fresh meat, I mean, those of the nursing persuasion. It used to be, jobs were listed in the paper. Now, you see and hear ads on television and radio aimed exclusively at nurses.

Yay us. Nurses rule. You drool.

I find it interesting how some facilities market themselves to appeal to the nursing demographic. It's not enough to just say, "Come work with us. We're a nifty place to work." Knowing that having a nursing license makes us a hot commodity, we need a little more to go on besides "nifty". Through the passing of time, I have taken particular note of some of the marketing ploys designed to make us want to go have a nervous breakdown at particular facilities.

Hospital #1: They tell me that working for them is such a great thing because they will celebrate my birthday. Huh? Any nurse worth his/her salt will have had red alarms going off upon hearing this. If this is the best thing they can come up with to entice nurses, this isn't good. In fact, any nurse worth their salt should run screaming in the other direction. If the only good thing you can think of that would make me want to work there is the fact that you are going to bust out a birthday cake for me, you have a crappy facility. "Well...you're going to work short all the time...and take a huge patient load that will jeopardize your license on a regular basis. We don't pay as much as some of the other hospitals will pay you...and you are going to be treated like second class citizens by the doctors and higher-ups. You are going to dread coming to work, but hey! We're going to celebrate your birthday, which really won't be on your birthday because you will have taken the night off so you can go and get totally shitfaced so you can forget you even work here."

Hospital #2: If you come and work for this place, they will give you a big sign-on cash bonus. Again, any nurse with half a brain will tell you this isn't necessarily a good thing. If a facility has to shell out big dollars just to get you in the door, this tells you that the facility sucks. Usually short-staffed, crappy patient load, and equipment that dates back before the first computer was ever built. If you are lucky, you may get to see how they used to wash bedpans by hand and re-use them, or sharpen their own needles. What they don't tell you is that if you are going to get the fatty sign-on bonus, you also get the fatty contract you have to sign that sentences you to indentured servitude for 3-5 years. That's 3-5 years working in a job you are going to hate in a matter of months. Oh well, at least you got that bonus! Spend wisely.

Hospital #3: A long line of boring sea foam green scrub jackets and one scrub jacket so hideous that it looks like someone barfed on it. Apparently, this hospital not only allows you to wear ugly scrubs, they also encourage it. "Find Yourself" they say. If I were to wear that fugly jacket, I wouldn't be too hard to locate.

Hospital #4: Catholic nuns are telling me that I should come work for their hospital because they say it's good and everyone knows that Catholics don't lie. If I go to work for them, I get first dibs on going to heaven because to work for the Catholic hospital, is to be working for God himself. Just don't mention birth control to your patients. That will earn you either a write-up, a termination, and/or a first class ticket to eternal damnation.

Hospital #5: This facility's angle is that they are community based in a nice community in the land of milk and honey (i.e. Johnson County). The underlying message once you weed through the idea that working here is like working in Heaven: "If you work here, you won't have to deal with the poor riff-raff that those inner city hospitals have to take care of. Heaven forbid you actually touch one of these undesirables!! Of course, you won't get to see much aside from tennis elbow, and the standard STDs, and that rash that you get when you scrog in a hot tub...but isn't that better than having to care for a homeless guy? Not to mention you won't have to deal with anything horribly complicated...we transfer all those to the inner city hospitals."

Hospital #6: You haven't heard an ad from this hospital because they have no money to spend on marketing for nurses. They rely entirely on word of mouth. Not to mention, this hospital is where you go when nobody else will hire you. Upside: by surviving this place, you can easily work in a combat zone in Iraq. Downside: you routinely get shot at during your lunch break.

Hospital #7: Like kids? Work here!! You can read them kiddie stories, tuck them in with a teddy bear at night, and rainbows will magically shoot out of your ass because everything is so magical when children are involved. But you can't beat on the parents who abuse their kids. Or yell at them when they just dump their kids off so they can be kid-free for the weekend. But you still have rainbows!!

I know nurses who work all over the metro. For the most part, they like their jobs. So, it all comes down to personal tolerance threshold, what you can and can't handle as a nurse. What is cake for someone, is hell on earth for someone else. Sort of like the doc who practices in proctology and enjoys it, and the other docs who would rather do my job than play in someone's toot-hole professionally.

So, this is my take on the marketing for nurses. I bet you're going to listen more closely next time one of these commercials come on. Heard a funny one I haven't? Let me know and I can translate for you.

The Brother and the Barista

I woke up before the alarm this afternoon to the sound of giggling. I pondered for a minute, because there is no giggling in my house because if there is giggling, it's usually coming from me. Brother does not giggle. I stumbled out of bed, downstairs, to find another female in the house: Brother's...uhhh...well...Special Friend. Brother, who also happens to be a tattoo artist, had set up shop in the dining room and was putting the finishing touches on a tattoo while listening to the Chiefs getting pecker-slapped on television. Brother is pretty talented with the tattoo gun, and yet I am not inked. I'd let him give me a tattoo, but three problems exist: 1. I don't know what I want. 2. I don't know where I would put it. 3. It's permanent.

At any rate, Mom calls and mentions she spoke with Brother earlier, and knew about Special Friend being at the house getting a tattoo. Apparently, he also gave her a mushroom tattoo last night. Even more disturbing: Mom is the one who told me this. Brother doesn't know what the word "discreet" means. I'm guessing it thinks it where you can park your car. In discreet. I don't know which is worse. Knowing when Brother gets his jollies off, or the fact that Mom is the one telling me. Eww.

Brother rode with me to work tonight because he still doesn't have his truck fixed, and my car is currently the community transportation in my house. With him also having to report for work later that night, it just made sense to have him drop me off, then pick me up in the morning. When asked when we could expect the truck to be fixed, the answer is a solid "I don't know". In his defense, I am told that a new transmission for Oprah is going to run around $1200, and he is still saving up for it. I can't complain, he routinely takes it to get it washed, and he changes the oil. However, he did take the flowered leis that were hanging around the headrests and toss them in the backseat. When I asked him why, he said it was because he didn't want to look gay. I reminded him that he was driving a PT Cruiser and that it couldn't be avoided.

Before hitting the highway, I stopped by my favorite local watering hole (Starbucks) for something with teeth because I knew I was going to need it. A whole weekend with patients who were being assholes, and were good candidates for APT (anterior pillow therapy), and I was two seconds away from having a nuclear meltdown.

Brother makes a face when I pull into the Starbucks drive-thru. He complains that the cup sizing is confusing, and it's impossible to go in and order just a plain cup of coffee. Brother is not overly impressed with Starbucks. Brother drinks his coffee black. Anything added to coffee, he feels, just makes you a candyass. I'm a candyass. I know this, so let's move on.

I place my order, and ask Brother if he would like a coffee. Yes. A big, plain coffee.

Barista: Would you like any cream, or syrup or sugar in that.

Brother: No. My coffee doesn't need a vagina.

I pull around to the window and the Barista pops out like a cuckoo in a clock and says, "One Venti Iced Quad Marble Macchiato No Whip, and One Venti Brewed Coffee." She takes my Starbucks card and pops back into the window.

Brother: I didn't understand a fucking thing she just said.

We get our drinks, and we hit the road. Brother's coffee is so hot, a layer of his tongue sloughs off after one drink. He curses the Starbucks Barista. It was probably retribution for that vagina remark.

Monday is the visitation for Greg followed by Beam and Coke at Harry's, for those who might want to stop by and raise a glass to him. Hopefully, Brother will have avoided signing up for overtime, and I will actually have use of my car.

Dear Lord

I usually have words for just about anything that I come across.

This would not be one of those things. I don't know whether I should be shocked...or if I should buy a bunch and give them out as Christmas presents.

All I know is, the return missionaries I usually encounter look nothing, NOTHING like these guys.

If they did, I would have to rethink my self-imposed ban on dating one.

In Case This Whole Nursing Thing Doesn't Work Out...

I totally plundered this from Spyder.

1. Director of Photography

2. Professor I can teach you a lesson or two.

3. Occupational Therapist I'll pass...

4. Foreign Language Instructor I can teach you Japanese or Russian.

5. ESL Teacher I can also teach you English.

6. Criminologist Sounds like fun, I think.

7. Lawyer I'm already an asshole. This job might be a perfect fit for me.

8. Criminal Lawyer Only if I get to prosecute.

9. Civil Litigator Civil cases make my ass twitch.

10. Judge Now you're talkin! Do I have to wear anything under the robe?

11. Computer Trainer Ugh...I can't even get my computer to work right on most days.

12. Actor I can act like I care.

13. Director I can tell Lindsay Lohan she's a crappy actress.

14. Public Health Nurse Now every Tom, Dick, and Harry can tell me all about their testicles.

15. Anthropologist Because everyone should own their own monkey skeleton.

16. Personal Financial Planner This is laughable. My budgeting skills would make Suze Orman cringe.

17. Driving Instructor This is a nervous breakdown just begging to happen.

18. Marine Biologist Studying plankton!!

19. Political Aide Seeing how most politicians are stupid, and I loathe stupid people...I don't think this would be a good fit.

20. Casting Director Does it come with a couch?

21. Activist If it involves not bathing and not shaving my legs or armpits, count me out!

22. Corporate Trainer Is it good for the company?

23. Comedian Kathy Griffin already has making fun of celebrities cornered.

24. Musician I used to play drums in high school. I used to play them well. Know anyone who needs a tubby, blonde drummer?

25. Critic The afterbirth of the artist!!

26. Market Research Analyst Sounds boring.

27. Print Journalist Because everyone wants to be like Jenee Oster-whatever her name is.

28. Writer Already got that covered...

29. Composer I suppose I could compose drum beats or something.

30. Translator Translate Stupid to English?

31. Zoologist What could be better than watching animals all day?

32. Taxidermist And stuffing them before I go to bed.

33. Special Effects Technician I could be that person who makes the crunching footstep noises.

34. Producer I could produce cheesey gameshows.

35. Public Relations Specialist Spin doctor!

36. Public Policy Analyst Zzzzzz

37. Communications Specialist Isn't this just a fancy name for a college degree that is completely useless??

38. Paralegal Hell, if I'm going to be a lawyer, why bother with paralegal??

39. Legal Secretary See above.

40. Court Clerk I've seen court clerks. They are not too friendly...nor bright.

You can go take it too:
1. Go to http://www.careercruising.com/.
2. Put in Username: nycareers, Password: landmark.
3. Take their "Career Matchmaker" questions.
4. Post the top ten results ( Or like me what ever you you want)

Thursday Blatherings

Today, I have a shit ton of laundry to do. And when I say shit ton, I mean a shit ton. I will be doing laundry all day. How did I end up with so much clothing??

Yesterday, the repairman stopped by and installed a new heating element for the oven, and it worked. I was immediately disappointed because I was hoping he would tell me that the oven needed to be replaced. Maybe next time.

I just found out that a friend I've known for years has went and done the very thing I've heard him lament about doing for the past, what, 13 years or so. He moved to Vegas. Those who know me from way back when, should suddenly know who I am talking about, because chances are good that he whined to you about moving to Vegas as well. I'm here to say, he finally did it. Cut those apron strings, gave notice to the commissary at Ft. Leavenworth, and made the move.

Shocking! I wonder how long it will take for him to lament his move and come back. I hear that while visiting is great, actually living in Las Vegas sucks.

Yesterday, I went with Trish to this little Chinese place in Gladstone. In a strip mall, smaller than a Taco Bell, only open for two years. Best Chinese Food Ever!!! I don't remember the name, but it was on North Oak. Maybe Nightmare knows the name...Kam something-or-other.

It feels like autumn outside. So much, that I made a big pot of chili. Brother thought it was fine chili, winning his patented seal of approval: "good enough to make a turd". You know it's good when he says that. Of course it's good chili, I'm the supreme mast of chili. But then, can you really mess up chili??? Beans, beef, seasonings, misc...sometimes you can add nachos, Fritos, cheese or other stuff. Brother has to ruin it by eating it with peanut butter and cheese sandwiches. ~shudder~

Now, I must go and do what I've been putting off all week. Laundry.

A Moment of Silence

One of the best bloggers I've ever had the pleasure of meeting was found dead this morning of an apparent heart attack.

I only met Greg Beck on two occasions, both blogger meetups, but I read his blog, Death's Door, religiously. He was truly one of the best bloggers of Kansas City, and easily the most recognizable both in words and appearance. His blog, a staple in any blogroll, was as part of Kansas City as BBQ and Boulevard Wheat. He never tried to be like anyone. If anything, people wanted to be like him.

I wish I could have gotten to talk to him more. It wasn't until tonight, when I read this, that I realized we had a ton of stuff in common. Even though we were not good friends, the fact that he is dead is devastating to me. I feel like a member of my family has just died.

Larger than life, kindness that new no limits, and a heart that held more love than it could handle, Greg Beck will be missed by friends, family, and the masses that read his blog daily. If you haven't read his blog, hustle over there and read it.

God's going to have his hands full with this angel. I can almost imagine it.

Godspeed, Greg.

To Dan Porter

Dear Dan,

I hope you burn in hell.

I hope the state of Missouri sends you there.

But before you go, I hope someone "accidentally" makes the mistake of putting you in General Population, and that you are worked over to the point where you feel like you've been ass-raped by a train. And then you acquire some STD so hideous, it turns your lower GI tract into something that resembles rotten hamburger.

Sincerely,
Everyone Else

Old Woman in Young Woman's Body

You've Experienced 72% of Life

You have all of the life experience that most adults will ever get. And unless you're already in your 40s, you're probably wise beyond your years.

How Much Life Experience Do You Have?

When I was in my early 20's, my branch president (church) told someone from the stake office that I was really 54 years old.

It was a compliment.

Thursday Activities

Today I had a working lunch. Our little group met at a restaurant and we talked about things to make working on the unit better. More often than not, I hold my tongue at these meetings.

Anyway, one of the things discussed was how crappy morale is. Someone suggested that we should stop saying negative things, becoming encouraging cheerleaders for the unit. My response...a big, wet raspberry. If you have a mass of people who hate their jobs, telling them to lie and blow sunshine up the butts of whomever needs disillusioned is not going to help. In fact, it's going to make people more hostile.

Whatever.

On my way home from the meeting, I drove through "the hood". One house I passed, had all it's contents sitting out in the front yard. I'm assuming the occupants were either evicted, or shot. At any rate, every square inch of that front yard was covered in stuff: furniture, decor, clothes...EVERYTHING. Not to mention that everything was stacked 5-6 feet high. I spotted various people wandering over to pick around. One lady in a white Cadillac stopped, grabbed a fake ficus tree, stuffed it in the backseat of her car, and drove away like a bat out of hell.

It was one of those instances that I regretted not having my camera on me. I called Paul (ND!) and he berated me for not having my camera, telling me that I had an obligation to my readers (all five of them), the have pictures when I shared stuff like this. He asked me how my bootwagga was doing (because he secretly has a vested interest), and then told me that he now has a bike I get to ride when I come and visit...which is never because he never invites me over but maybe once a year.

Tonight I went with my friend Trish to a Pampered Chef party, hosted by one of the girls she works with. Incidentally, this person also lives about 8 blocks from my house.

She recently bought a house, completely gutted it out, and remodeled. I don't know what the house looked like before, but I was impressed by what it looked like now. I always admired those people who had a good eye for decor. Hers had a European feel to it. The kitchen almost felt like a bistro. Wine references in the dining room and kitchen. It was very nice.

I came home and surveyed my house and decided that my theme is pandemonium and chaos...in no particular order. My house is still a work in progress, and I am pretty happy with what I have done so far. I really need to stop comparing it with others. It's not elegant, but it's my home, and my goal is for people to feel welcome when they walk in the door.

Anyway, I bought a bunch of stuff at the party because I am a HUGE Pampered Chef whore. I made friends with Trish's friend and we discussed hanging out because we are both single, both have dogs, both nurses. She seemed really nice. Her dogs were really cool, too. Sam is going to be very happy to have new friends to play with.

I have a GINORMOUS headache tonight, not to mention it sounds like my roof is going to be blown off the house before the night is over. I've taken some Tylenol and Benadryl and will hope for the best.

Oven Update

So the repairman comes over yesterday morning as scheduled. He pokes around the oven and asks me to turn off the breaker to it so he doesn't get electrocuted. Score one for Heather, I learned which breaker turns off the oven. Yay. For. Me.

Repairman asks me how old the oven is. I tell him I assume it is the original oven that was installed when the house was built...which was about 25 years ago. He agrees with my assessment and does more poking.

Finally, he thinks it could be the heating coil. So, he orders one, which will come to my house. He will come back next Wednesday and install it. He's not sure if this will fix everything, but it's a start.

So, I have to go another week without an oven. This is extremely annoying. I'm having to look in my recipe box for stove top recipes because most things in my culinary arsenal have to be baked. I made green bean casserole on the stove top last night. Brother thought it was the shit.

I just thought it was shit.

Mommy Dearest

I saw two shows this week, both dealing with Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. This is a subject that has always interested me. It's so bizarre, it's almost difficult to wrap my mind around it. Some of the things they do to their children is mind boggling, and it makes me wonder if kids who suffer the standard, garden variety child abuse are better off.

Interviews with the offending mothers, their smug little faces proclaiming they are good mothers, had me wanting to crawl through the television set to beat the crap out of them. If there is one thing in this world I loathe worse than onions, it's that of parents who abuse their children. This is probably the main reason I don't work with kids. The first time I encountered a parent who viciously abused their child, I would probably be arrested for assault, and my nursing license stripped away. I hear the stories from ER nurses about the things they encounter, and it makes me want to vomit.

They say that there is no treatment for Munchausens, like pedophilia. I've got a suggestion for treatment. It involves me in a room with them for 15 minutes with nothing but my boat oar.

I don't know what brought all this on. I guess the story of the lady trying to flush her newborn down a McDonalds toilet bothered me more than I thought.

Don't Go Away Mad, Just Go Away

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

"to forget there was a child discarded like trash.” *

To be filed under the "You've Got To Be Joking" category, comes the story of a 20 year mental giant who tried to flush her newborn down the toilet at McDonalds, where she was working at the time. This happened last week, and much to the embarrassment of anyone who has an 816 phone number, right here in our city.

It would be nice if Kansas City was well known for a stellar sports team, low crime rate, or hell, I'd even settle for American Idol winner. But no, asshats like this girl are the ones that put us on the map. Awesome.

Anyway, the girl claims she didn't know she was pregnant. I'm going to have to call bullshit on this on, Alex, unless she was roughly the size of a Ford Excursion, which in any case, was too fat to discern the baby bump...and the missed periods...and the extreme nausea and mood swings...and the fact that you obviously don't use any type of birth control when you have sex...oh, don't forget those contractions!

Then, she admits she tried to flush the baby several times. Okay, let's suspend reality for a minute and say she really didn't know she was pregnant because she has the IQ of a loaf of bread. I don't know of anyone who doesn't look at their deposit when they are done taking a crap, and I know for a fact that anyone who felt like they just passed a 2lb turd, is going to look at it if not out of sheer curiosity. Did she not notice that what she passed had eyes? Hands and feet? Hmmm, there's usually blood involved (not to mention a placenta)...didn't that throw up any alarms?? Apparently not, because she "innocently" tried to flush the baby down the toilet. Not once. Not twice. But THREE TIMES!! According to Alonzo Washington (who is Al Sharpton-lite in some KC circles), Mom of the Year was unaware that the baby was in the toilet.

Everyone, say it with me...BULLSHIT.

And speaking of Alonzo Washington, I had the pleasure of having lunch with friends today, who live in the very area that Washington is trying to clean up. While his beginnings were benevolent and well-intentioned, it is the opinion of many in that, and surrounding neighborhoods, he's turned into quite the Famewhore. That he is only interested in the stories that get his face in the news. That he rolls around in his Escalade on dubs (I had to look that one up), and Edge on occasion, wearing his designer duds and bling. I was also told he has 8 kids (different moms??). I didn't know that.

Me: Isn't that the very image/stereotype he's supposed to be fighting against?
Friend: You would think so. He's becoming a bit of a joke.

To be honest, I had no idea that girl who did this heinous thing, was black. This could have been done by any person with a vagina, because let's face it...stupid comes in all colors. No clue the girl was black until Washington stepped into the limelight. Had she been white, would he had said anything on behalf of the family then? Unlikely. Everyone would have chalked it up to stupid white trash and gone back doing whatever it is they do in their daily life. Who's the spokesperson for stupid white people? Andy Dick?? Jerry Springer???

Maybe Washington should take up the cause of education so there are no more stupid people. Taking on the inept Kansas City School District might be a good place to start. What about preaching the virtues of having protected sex? Or maybe tackle the big enchilada: personal accountability. These are things that people from all races could benefit from.

In the end, I hope the baby turns out okay. I pray that Mother of the Year gets her rights revoked and that baby is adopted by a good, loving family that will raise it to not be stupid. Most of all, I hope that child never, ever learns of it's birth. How much of a mindfuck would that be, finding out that your mom thought of you as nothing more than a piece of shit, and tried to dispose of you as such?

I shudder to think of it.

*this was a direct quote from Washington, I'm assuming it had to do with Precious Doe, but I thought it sounded like it would apply here*

A Plea

Dear Amy Winehouse,

I've been reading about your problems with a morbid interest. Don't get me wrong, I really like your music. In an age where entertainers are more for looks than actual talent, your singing is like a breath of fresh air.

But really...manic depressive that doesn't take meds? An open affinity for illicit drugs and alcohol? Horse tranquilizers? Knock down fights with the hubby? Your in-laws are even commenting that if you and your husband are both alive within a year, they will consider themselves lucky.

As a nurse, I know that vomiting blood is not a good thing, and left untreated, can result in what we call "a negative patient outcome".

So, when you sing "They tried to make me go to rehab and I said no...no...no"...I BELIEVE IT!!

Why, oh why, didn't I put you on my Celebrity Death List this year?

So, if you could just hang on until 2008 before you decide to self-destruct, that would be GREAT! Mmm 'kay?

Sincerely,
H

Nurse Follies: Attack of the Leftover Lunch Goblin

Friday night, we ordered Chinese take-out. I ordered the standard fare of combo fried rice, where you are guaranteed no more than three pieces of shrimp in your box. They usually send your order in a huge container, with enough food to feed a small African country that is hard to pronounce.

More oft than not, you order, and mark your leftovers with your name, date the box, and write "SAVE" on top. It goes in the break room fridge and you go home. You don't bother to pack a lunch you know you are well covered. So, you get to work, get through report and the first four hours of the shift...running, fielding complaints from the patients, dealing with residents, and addressing any crisis that should pop up. The entire time, you are thinking about your leftover rice and egg roll and is patiently waiting for you in the dark recesses of the break room fridge. Midnight rolls around and you eagerly open the fridge, salivating at the prospect of reheated sub par Chinese food in your belly.

Guess what! Your leftovers are NO WHERE to be found. You brave digging in the back of the fridge, where the Gladware bowl filled with a furry, unidentifiable substance resides, but to no avail. Some bastard has eaten your lunch. It's already late, and no one else is open that will deliver you an alternative, and you are reduced to scrounging around in the nutrition room for something. Lunch choices for you have now been reduced to: crackers, peanut butter and jelly, low sodium soup, jello, and off-brand soda.

This is what happened to me tonight. My endless bounty of fried rice, that literally had my name on it, had found it's way into the stomach of a thoughtless dayshifter.

Ummm...gross.

It's one thing to have leftovers at home and have someone eat them. You are either related, or share body fluids of some sort...so it's not a horribly disgusting thing. However, why would you want to eat something out of a communal refrigerator, that someone you barely know has already eaten out of??? That's almost like wearing someone elses underwear.

Every time this happens, I consider making chocolate brownies with Ex-Lax, storing them in the fridge with my name on them, and wait for some asshole to just dig in. It would serve them right, but I doubt it would serve as a strong deterrent.

I'm just going to have to start bringing salads to work, because everyone knows that if it is green, leafy and/or nutritious, no one will touch it. The dozens of frozen Weight Watcher dinners that are collecting frost in the freezer should stand as testament to that. Why eat crappy, frozen, low fat noodle entree that tastes like ass when you can have someone elses fried rice?

Bastards.