A Ray of Sunshine At Last!!

Let the party begin!!

May the lawsuits come down like fire from the sky!

May the purveyors of hate be stripped of everything...including a pot to piss in and a place to put it.

May the Phelps cult get a taste of the hell they will be living in when they all kick the bucket.

Happy Halloween!

I'm not dressing up tonight. Instead, I will be at home handing out candy. The one time of year where it's perfectly acceptable to go door to door asking for food...and have people happily giving it to you. This will mark the first time I've ever entertained trick or treaters as no one takes their kids to apartment complexes to trick or treat. In an effort to be festive, I hung my one Halloween decoration, then spread some of those fake cobwebs all over the porch. The black light plan didn't quiet work the way I wanted it to, so I switched bulbs and have decided to turn on those lights that shine around the house. Yeah, this house came with spotlights.


I know, I'm the shit.


Last night, I took Mom some costumes for her to try and she reminded me of the flapper costume she made for me when I was six or so. She hand-sewn strands of beads to a pair of shorts and a halter top. I had no idea what a flapper was at the time, but the costume was pretty neat, even if Mom came to loathe those beads.


Halloween still remains one of my most favorite holidays. Maybe it's because it reminds me how fun it was to be a kid. Maybe that's why adults still dress up to this day...to try to recapture that moment, even if it is fleeting. The magic of Christmas has left me, and the thrill of Easter egg hunts has gone by the wayside, but there is always Halloween. At least I don't have to wear those awful plastic mask thingies anymore with the mouth-hole the size of a pin to breathe out of. Thankfully, costumes have evolved since then.


So, have a safe and Happy Halloween. I'll be waiting for you when you come in with diabetic coma from eating all you candy at once.

A Work in Progress

I went and got my hair re-done today. A little brown, a little red, a little gold...and I have exactly the color I wanted. A color that I look like I was born with.

I love my stylist once more.

On my way home, I listened to sad songs and reflected...which is never a good combination. I'm still trying to clear my head (among other things). I've found that given the proper amount of solitude, I can convince myself that a lie is the absolute truth.

Fortunate for me, those who were among the first to call bullshit on me are hundreds of miles away. I can tell myself I don't care, and no one is going to argue the wiser.

I think most people are this way. It is a survival mechanism. Some people can do it better than others. The crappier the adversity you have overcome, the better at it you are. That's just the way it is.

That's all...

Because You Can Do Anything With Cream of Mushroom Soup

Tonight I went to a kitchen show. This was different to other parties I've been to in the fact that everyone who attended was presented with six recipes a week before. Of those six, we were to pick the four we wanted to make. We provided our own meat (whatever that recipe required), and the rest would be provided for us.

So, today I went and purchased the specific meat I would need: chicken, pork, beef, and beef. Went to Mom's work (that's where it was being held), and there were about 15 other people there for the same thing.

The first casserole was one that I wanted to make, but I needed to rinse my roast before I used it, so I went to the sink to cut it out of it's packaging and rinse it. Naturally, I sliced my finger open in the process, so Mom had to put together that particular casserole while I was in the employee break room, rummaging through the first aid kit.

The bleeding finally stopped in time for me to put together my remaining three casseroles, my middle finger bandaged heavily in waterproof bandaids to the point I looked like I was flipping everyone else off.

Don't worry, I didn't bleed in the casseroles. The only thing I had to touch were the big zip lock bags we mixed stuff in. No fuss, no muss.

At the end of the night, I had four ready-to bake casseroles. Just take them home, freeze them, and pull them out to thaw when you plan on cooking them. Ideal for people like me who only have two hours before I have to go in to work...and am tired of baked potatoes and fish sticks.

Sadly, I didn't get any pictures. Handling the baggies were awkward enough without having to try to take pics of everything.

Incidentally, I booked a party of my own (and if you are lucky, you'll land an invite). This pre-made casserole thing is kind of a handy idea.

Martha Stewart better watch her ass!

Trimming the Bushes

Not that bush, you pervs!! Do you think I would broadcast something like that?

In spite of what you think, I don't share everything on this blog.

I ventured outside with my bush clippers and trimmed the bushes in the front of the house. The neighbor lady across the street stopped to chat with me, and I got a rough estimate on how many trick or treaters I should expect (between 30-50), more if Halloween fell on a weekend.

Now, my bushes look all nice and manicured instead of overrun and neglected. I also managed to hang my one Halloween decoration (a ghost that flits on a line, has a mean face, glows and makes groaning noises...sort of like me in the morning). I bought a black light bulb for the porch light, and will spread some of those fake spider webs on the landing so it will glow under the black light. Hell, I might still even get a pumpkin.

Tonight is the Casserole Event, and I have to go buy some meat (we have to bring our own). I'll even buy some candy to pass out tomorrow.

Tomorrow afternoon, I go back to the salon for a re-do. I remain hopeful.

Monday's Musings

So I go into work, and everyone likes the hair color. They think I'm very clever and that I must really love Halloween. I just told everyone that my costume is a candle.

*********************

I've been pretty bitchy all weekend. I'd like to attribute it to the fact that the more I think about things, the more pissed off I get. If I could just yell at someone, get it all out, I might feel better. Trouble is, the special recipient of my annoyance would give little more than a shrug or a "blah, blah, blah" (which has been the standard answer to my more serious questions for the past two years)...and that would just piss me off even more.

Instead, I yelled at the surly lady who came and took X-rays of a patient. She's horrible to everyone, so she more than likely deserved it anyway. After I was finished with her, the unit secretary applauded.

Brother has also been the unfortunate recipient of my hostility. He told me I should put my Halloween costume back on so I will be happy again.

*********************

Tomorrow night, I get to go to some kitchen show thingie where I get to pre-make 4 casserole dishes with a bunch of other people. We put together casseroles, take them home, and toss them in the freezer until that opportune moment when we really don't feel like cooking.

I'll try to remember to take my camera so I can post pictures of the culinary experience.

*********************

Brother was the lucky winner of two tickets to Freaker's Ball this Saturday. He was dropped off at the house this morning around 9:30, when I was hard asleep. Having forgot his house key, he kept pounding the doorbell until I fell out of bed and answered the door. He also broke the doorbell.

Brother showed me some pics he had taken on his camera phone from the event, including some of the more revealing costumes of some of the attendees. One of which being a girl with some see-thru mesh covering her boobs, which everyone could see.

Me: What was her costume? A skanky ho??

Brother shrugged but then went on to say that her boyfriend couldn't figure out why everyone was staring at his girlfriend, wanting to take her picture. Hey, no one ever claimed rocket scientists frequented any event hosted by 98.9. It is well known fact that when The Rock throws a party, trailer parks around the metro completely empty for the night.

Brother likes to go to people watch, and catch the bands...and then there is that thing about hoping to hook up with some skanky ho for the night. What can I say? My brother is a ho himself.

*************************

I'm so tired, I think I will go turn in for the day. Maybe if I wake up early, I can put up my one Halloween decoration. I don't know how many trick-or-treaters I should expect. Maybe I should go ask one of the neighbors. I'd hate to run out of candy and wake up to find my big tree covered in toilet paper.

Good night!

Shower #4

It's not getting any better...

I'm going to call the salon on Monday and make another appointment.

Tales of the Homeowner: The Curse of the Cluttered Garage

Someone once remarked how Americans will put tons of crap in their garage, and yet keep a $20K vehicle parked in the driveway. I've even known people who had so much stuff in stored in their garage, they couldn't park their cars in it.

After I bought the house, I relished all the open space I had in the garage. Not only could I park my car, but another car if needed (which usually was my Mother, and only if the weather was crappy). I never thought I would befall the Curse of the Cluttered Garage.

Almost a year later, I have.

Oh, I still have room for the PT, but just enough. How did it come to this??

Well, it first started with the mower and the power washer, which really wasn't a big deal because I'm waiting for the door to the shed to be fixed so such things can go in there for storage.

Then, I got a new living room set, and the old one went into the garage until my basement becomes available so it can go down there. Eventually, it will be a rec room. So far, a couch, a chair, a mower, and a power washer.

Then, I bought the table and chairs from XO, and my old set went into the garage because it, too, will find refuge in the rec room when it is completed.

THEN, Mom needed a place to keep her deep freeze because it sat in storage and why should it sit in storage when it can be put to good use? Now, there is a big, white deep freeze in the garage. The plus side: Brother plans on buying a side of beef to stick in there.

And lastly, Brother's new transmission for Oprah came in and now sits, and shiny and clean on some sort of block. If you are not careful, you will trip on it and crack your head open. Transmissions are big. And heavy.

Total: a mower, a power washer, a couch, a chair, a table, 3 dining room chairs, deep freeze, and big-assed transmission...in addition to the stuff that was there before like the garbage can, various garden tools, a dead vacuum cleaner, and two bicycles that probably haven't been ridden in AT LEAST five years, . I couldn't park a second car in that garage if I wanted to. Hell, I'm lucky I can make it to the laundry room without breaking my neck.

Thankfully, 'bert came and took the transmission away today. With any luck, Oprah will return to full power by the end of next week. Also, next week I plan on moving stuff around so the freezer will be against the wall, and the chairs can be down in the basement. I'm also going to make Brother fix the shed door so some things can be put in there as well.

I will reclaim my garage...or die trying!!

Blogger Halloween Party Update

So last night was the much anticipated blogger party. I had waffled between Plan A and Plan B, before deciding on Plan B. I put Plan B on and looked in the mirror and decided to go with Plan A anyway. However, I plucked some pieces off Plan B to use with Plan A costume.

For those who didn't go and wondered what I went dressed up as, I was a pirate. Maybe even one of those pirates from that porn movie that was about pirates. Not that I would know about such things...

The outfit was pretty short, so I hoped I wouldn't have to bend over and pick anything up. I didn't get my boots, but I figured that with my hair, no one would notice that I didn't have the boots. I had a hat, and a sword, and a cool necklace that looked like coins, and fishnet stockings.

I arrived at the house of Gone Mild where I was happy to know I wasn't the last person to get there. Most everyone dressed up, and the costumes were great, especially the couples ones. Filegirl brought jello shots that I swore multiplied when no one was watching...sort of like wire coat hangers. By the end of the night, there were thousands of jello shots all over the house. We offered suggestions as to what the Gone Mild house could do with the remaining jello shots: empty all of the cups into the bathtub and wrestle in it, freeze them for another gathering, take them to the library, or hand them out to trick or treaters...or their parents.

Various topics of conversation went from all things naughty to penguin socks. Cheesecake was shared and cleavage as far as the eye could see. Dan's homemade brew went over big, and Brother complained that I didn't bring any home for him to try.

Overall, a good night. It was great seeing everyone again and I'm looking forward to the next meetup.

On To Plan B

Who knew that boots were so important? While there is a collective effort in Bloggerdom to help me find a pair of boots I can actually wear, I've decided to go to Plan B. It turns out, black crinoline skirts are hard to come by unless you are the size of an 8 year old.

So, my Plan A is shelved until Halloween next year. I'll have ALL YEAR to find the rest of that costume. Until that time, what I have will go into the lovely cedar-lined closet I have in my storage room in the basement.

I still plan on looking hot, so feel free to make passes at me tonight (that is, if you're not a candy-ass and am not coming to the party).

Unless you can't get past the fact that I look like my head has been set on fire.

I still have time for a little nap before the party. Naps rock.

Shower #3

More purple down the drain.

I think I'm washing out the second color she put on.

Shower #2

More color came out.

Brother, upon seeing my head, "What happened to your hair?"

Two people have seen it (Brother being one). Both agree I should keep it for a while. Men! What do they know? I'm the lone dissenter.

I'm going to bed now. I'll try again tomorrow.

Shower #1

I washed a lot of purple out of the hair, and my towel has orange all over it. It would appear that some progress has been made.

Unfortunately, I still look like a crayon.

All's Red That Ends Red

This morning, I had to get up BEFORE the buttcrack of dawn to go pick up Brother from work. I didn't even bother getting dressed...I just went in my pajamas.

Around noonish, I went to the beauty salon because with the changing of the leaves, and the briskness in the air, it was time for that honored tradition of ditching the dirty blonde and exploring my redhead side once more.

The damn appointment lasted FOREVER. Only because she had to add an filler, then I had to sit and roast under a dryer, then she had to add the color, and I had to sit and stew for an additional 45 minutes. During that time, I asked for a quick eyebrow wax. Not anything dramatic, but enough to maybe smooth it out a little and get rid of the unruly hairs that tend to take a wrong turn and end up no where near the rest of the hairs. I think she got a little overzealous with the wax, because I now have pencil thin eyebrows. I can't wait for the unruly wild hairs to grow back. This look just isn't me.

A quick haircut later and I was out. The blonde is certainly gone and the red has arrived.

Let's discuss the color, shall we?

One of the things I pride myself on is my ability to wear red hair naturally just as I am with the blonde I was born with. I'm not too overly impressed with hair color that just isn't found in nature, and that is just my personal preference. (Despite my freespirit, I am somewhat conservative in nature.)

As I look in the mirror, I can't decide if I don't like the color because of the color, or because I'm shocked by the drastic change. I'm fairly certain it's not the same red in colors past, but there is something about it that I don't like, that I can't quite put my finger on. Do I look like Ronald McDonald or a Troll Doll? Is it red, or is it fuchsia in red's clothing? I don't know what it is, but I don't think this can pass as a natural color. I've seen this color before...on what, exactly, I don't remember.

I'm withholding my complaints for a few days because I know that red is a constantly evolving hair color, and fades a lot faster than browns and blacks. While I may be mortified to leave the house now, I could take a couple showers with intensive hair washings, and like what doesn't wash out.

This also means I'm not posting pictures (for now). If you want to see the new 'do, you can either come to the Halloween party tomorrow night, get sick and come see me on a professional level, or just use your imagination.

Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to go take the first of many showers.

Hump Day Blather

Someone better call Denver and remind the Rockies to haul ass to Boston. Apparently, they forgot they were in the World Series.

Tonight, I went for my last computer training class for work. Our hospital is going to go to an all-computerized charting system which is set to go live next month. To say that there will a global meltdown the day it goes live would be an understatement. If you hear collective screams coming from there, don't be alarmed. It's just the collective sound of computer rage. Fortunate for me, the go-live date is on a Monday. I won't have to be back at work until the following Friday. Most of the carnage should have taken place by then, so I remain hopeful.

After the class ended, we had to take a competency test, and I passed with a 96% because I'm the shit that way. Put me in front of a computer, and I can pretty much find my way around a system on my own. I'm not getting fat bonuses for being a trainer (they were hand selected by Bossholes housewide and no one asked me), so I'm not going to be volunteering myself too often.

I only have to help the people I like.

As you may have read, I acquired a the dining room table and chairs from XO. That's some damn heavy furniture, I must say. So heavy, that when it was delivered to my house, our collective muscle power only took us to the garage. This week, I have only managed to move the old chairs to the garage, scoot the old table into the living room, and cart the new chairs into the dining room. Brother is currently nursing a sore shoulder, not to mention coming down with the crud, so the table can wait in the garage until he gets better.

If there is one thing I am, it is resourceful. That table will be in my dining room by the end of the week. Pictures will follow.

Tonight, after I got home from computer class, I decided that while I have the car, may as well go to the gym. I started on the treadmill. Sometimes, I say I'm going to start running again, but the minute I try, my reconstructed gimpy knee reminds me why this isn't possible. So, I switched to he bike and pedaled my ass off for 10 miles while listening to the ipod. I love my ipod. What in the hell did I ever do without one??

Now, it's time to turn in. Tomorrow is going to be a productive day.

Floating My Own Boat

When I was a kid, my father acquired a boat. It had a big hole in the hull, didn't have a working motor, and the inside was a mess. It needed new seats, new interior. My father, who could fix just about anything, said he would get the boat running again.

So, he patched the hole because he could work with fiberglass. Then, he found an outboard and tinkered with that until he got it to run. Years this project took, and everyone thought that this boat would see a return to it's glory days from the obvious progress being made. Everyone was excited.

For whatever reasons, Dad stopped working on it, and the boat never saw water again. I guess sometimes you get so tired of trying to fix something, you simply give up.

My life is a lot like that boat.

I've had a long string of relationships that didn't work out. In the beginning, I was easily a pushover, and my feelings got hurt quite a bit because I allowed it to happen. Somewhere along the way, I decided to stop being the victim...and yet I still get hurt.

A wise man once said that love isn't something we slip and fall into, but it is a choice we make, conscious or not. At some point in everyone's life, you actually decide it is okay to have feelings for someone. That's it's okay to let your guard down. That it's okay to exhale.

Why do I insist on loving people who don't reciprocate my feelings? Why do I cultivate those strong feelings when deep down I know I'm going to be hurt in the end? Why do I allow myself to become so jaded by these experiences even though I've known what the outcome was going to be?

Introspection sucks.

I know why. I've known the answer all along. It's much easier to fall for someone that is unavailable to you (physically, emotionally, etc), because to love from afar, means you don't actually have to work at a relationship. Relationships are hard, but it's easy to stand on the sidelines and fantacize about things, make excuses. In fact, the idea of being married scares the hell out of me. Having children sounds like some terrifying gamble. Sad thing is, I thought I may have finally met someone I'd was willing to take that chance with.

But no more.

That boat has sailed.

A Love Rejected

I guess you could say my heart is broken.

That's all I'm going to say about that.

For now.

And Boo to You Too!

I went out today to find some boots for my costume, and I tried Independence center. The only place that had what I had in mind only had boots for Amazon women. If I needed a size 11, I would have been in great shape.

Me thinks I might have to go to plan B. Without the boots, the outfit just doesn't work, unless I want to look like some sort of lame-ass stripper.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the KC Blogoholics Halloween party. If you haven't RSVP'd, do so. I'm going to be there...what more reason do you need to go??

Tomorrow morning, I have to report to physical therapy...at 8:30. The hags in occupational health scheduled it at that ungodly hour. I still loathe physical therapy. I'm not looking forward to getting out of bed before the buttcrack of dawn, and I'm sure as hell not looking forward to the visit.

It's going to be a great day, I can tell.

Monday's Musings

Feeling blue? Just watch the new featured vid over to the right. Once you get past the first song (I haven't decided if that is a real language or what), things pick up. I'm told I'm going to hell for posting it, and probably in a motorized wheelchair.
************************
Dumbledore gay? Shit...does this mean I need to go through and re-read the entire series AGAIN?? I thought it was an interesting twist. I'd be interested to hear what my other Potter-fan-friends think of this newest revelation.
************************

I read with some excitement that Union Station is getting an exhibit that displays cadavers in various forms. Tony even posted about it on his blog. I find it interesting that so many people are against this, but I'd be willing to bet money those same people are the first to slow down to look at a traffic accident. While the Kansas City exhibit won't be opening it's doors until February, the more widely known Body Worlds exhibit opened up in St. Louis this past Friday.


I've always been interested in human anatomy. Unfortunately, the breadth of my anatomy classes only encompassed that of dissecting sheep brains, hearts and eyes. I was once invited to visit the cadaver lab at University of Biosciences (or whatever they are calling it now). Amazing. Numerous cadavers in various stages of dissection. Nerves, muscles, organs, anomalies.


So, I am planning on attending both the exhibits here and in St. Louis. I'm probably going to pick up an anatomy book that doesn't weigh a ton and take it with me for reference.

***********************
Friday night, I had an orientee. Don't get me wrong, I don't ordinarily mind having an orientee to pass along my infinite knowledge in the many different enemas available, but sometimes, I just like working alone. I just stick my head down and try to plow through the shift inflicting the least amount of damage. She seems nice, and smart (always a big plus), but she is still new, and so I had to explain a lot. This was a problem because I started to feel yucky at the beginning of the shift, and got progressively worse as the shift went on.

I decided I felt well enough to report for duty on Saturday night, but I went prepared. I took my own box of tissue with me. The kind that has lotion on it. I thought I would save a few cents and buy the Wally World brand of tissue with lotion, only to realize that it's still crap, and I doubt the only lotion on the tissues is what was printed on the box. I think I have efficiently scraped the first layer of skin off my nose. Next time, no more off-brand. It's Kleenex brand all the way!

On my way home Sunday morning, I stopped by Walmart for some last minute rations: some sinus medicine, Kleenex, normal saline and one of those bulbous sucker thingies so I could try to irrigate some of that crap out of my nose. In the parking lot, a lady approached me and asked me if I had a slim jim as she unfortunately locked her keys in her car.

Dour nurse in scrubs with a bright red nose. Does I look like someone who has a slim jim? Nurse by weekend, boosting cars to supplement my income during the week.


I woke up Sunday so congested and miserable, I had no choice but to call in.

So, I'm not certain what my affliction is. I'm sneezing all over the place (excuse me a moment while I blow off a couple right now...okay, all done). My nose is running, my eyes are dry and on fire, low-grade fever, and I feel like my head weighs 20lbs instead of the average 8. This morning found me in a steaming hot shower trying to irrigate my sinuses with a bulbous sucker thingie. When I blow my nose, I can hear the fluid in my ears. Lovely.

This better clear up by Friday or I'm going to be pissed.

Hot and Heavy

The other day, one of our techs was up to C.O. This means they have to sit at the patient bedside to watch them. This is employed in special cases for a myriad of reasons: patient loony and high risk for falls or pulling lines out, suicide attempts. The purpose of the C.O. (constant observer) is to make certain the patient doesn't hurt themselves. This could very well be the most boring job on the planet. So boring, in fact, that many a C.O., will bring something to do. Some bring homework, some bring a laptop, others may just bring a book to read.

Like I said, this tech was to C.O. that day and asked anyone if they had a book she could read. Another tech tossed her one of those cheesy sex novels. I made a face.

Me: Ugh! You actually read that crap?

Tech: Nah...I'll just skip to page 110 where things start to get interesting.

This started a discussion on cheesy romance novels and how, in no way, do they reflect real life. Particularly the sex scenes. Sex in cheesy romance novels is the stuff every bored housewife dreams of. No matter what the setting, characters, etc...it's all the same: foreplay, heaving bosoms, faces flushing with pleasure, manhoods rising, clothes that seemingly melt away, passionate lovemaking that lasts hours and men that actually stay awake afterwards. Everything is just perfect.

Just once, I complained, someone should write a book that depicts intimacy in real life.

In a heated race for the bedroom, Steve tripped on the cat and hit his
head on the door jam. Ten stitches later...

Oral sex on the balcony was amazingly adventurous, he thought as he
leaned back into the wood railing. Just as he was about to have his romance
explosion, the rail gave way and he fell into the bushes below, his very
pronounced snap coming from his ankle. At that precise moment, Joe remembered his orthopedist was on a ski trip in Vail.

Arms and legs everywhere, they tangled into her unmade bed with ugly
green paisley sheets. Just when things started to get interesting, Sally fell
off the side of the bed and onto the cat. Later at the emergency veterinary
hospital, Sally was inconsolable. Jeff knew then that there would be no chance of a hummer that night.

Dan slowly stripped off his clothes, watching Katie carefully as he
done so. There, in the candle light, Katie squinted her eyes. She flushed...with
embarrassment. Judging from the looks of Dan's rising manhood, she would be
breaking out the toys later after he left.

After a night of passion on the couch, Lisa studied herself in the
mirror. Her lips swollen from Bob's stubble that he claimed was a goatee. On her
neck, was the biggest hickey she had ever seen. A huge nest of ratted hair on
the back of her head. Lisa groaned. That would be the last time she would ever
sleep with the pizza delivery boy.

Unable to resist their mutual attraction, Kim and Ted staggered into
his bedroom, tearing off their clothes as they done so. Five minutes later, both
lying spent in bed, Ted got an excited look on his face. "Law and Order is on!"
he exclaimed, while reaching for the remote.

After turning on a cd that played smooth jazz, Diane slowly stripped
off the black teddy she just purchased earlier this week, starting with the
matching thigh-high stockings. Jack watched while clutching a bag of Freetos,
his eyes widening. Diane bent over, giving Jack a full view of her generous
booty. Diane felt a grumble in her tummy, and before she knew it was going
to happen, before she could stop it, Diane let out the biggest fart
ever.

Sean tossed back the rest of his beer, and studied Amber thoughtfully. Sure, she was chubby and ugly, but she appeared eager and enthusiastic. He calculated that it had been at least 4 months since the last time he got laid. "Hell," he thought, "Beauty is just a light switch away. Besides, there's nothing on television tonight."

Hump Day Blather

This morning, being the most awesome daughter on the planet, took Mom to see the doctor. About five weeks ago, she attempted a new machine at the gym with a huge amount of weight. Without getting into too many details, she hurt her back. Since then, she's been seeing a chiropractor. Now, I don't usually have issues with chiropractors (I even dated one once), but I don't think all of life's mysteries can be solved with a quick adjustment. Oh sure, they may cure your infected ear, but you will have one leg shorter than the other.

After five weeks and her back not getting any better, she finally opted to go see a doctor. I referred her to my nurse practitioner. And still being the most awesome daughter on the planet, I picked her up from work and drove her there.

Funny how things are when you haven't been to see a doctor for a while. They will ply on all these routine tests that you should be getting, but haven't. Mom went in with a sore back, and came out with not only a prescription for pain meds, but also an appointments for a mammy-gram, MRI's for neck and shoulder, and a colonoscopy to be completed in the near future.

And I did what any most awesome daughter on the planet would do...I laughed sadistically.

After the doctor, or rather nurse, visit, we stopped in Riverside at some Chinese place for lunch. This place was next to a pet store, and that isn't usually a good thing. The place was busy though, and the food not bad, even if it had been Fluffy with the meaty hind leg. I meowed a couple times during lunch...no one noticed.

I dropped Mom off at her office and began the soggy drive home. As an afterthought, I stopped by the Den of Iniquity and Cause of Moral Decay for a few other items for my costume. I haven't found replacement boots yet, but I've got a little over a week to think of something. Paul (ND!) is dying to know what my costume is. I told him he'd have to go to the Blogger Halloween Party to find out, but he claims he has to work.

Funny how he has to work whenever date opportunities present themselves.

Now, I am home. The rain is coming down like a cow pissing on a flat rock. Nothing to do but take a nap. Just a little one.

That sesame kitten is not sitting well on my stomach.

Nurse Follies: Putting on a Happy Face

It's no secret that morale on my floor has hit an all low. For the month of October, we will have lost 4 nurses on nights. Bosshole has made arrangements for a temporary fix, but it's just that...temporary.

Some people have it in their heads that the crappy morale has everything to do with a few unhappy people spreading their unhappiness. It has nothing to do with the short staffing, or the myriad of other bullshit we endure at the hands of crappy management. One of the coordinators suggested that if we hear someone complaining, we should correct them and tell them to say only nice things so the new grads wouldn't become disillusioned with their new jobs. (I suggested that if someone corrected me during a rant, they would promptly receive the finger.)

Nope. It is felt by a certain few, that if we blew sunshine up each other's buttholes on a regular basis, morale around the unit would improve. Such sunshine would be infectious, and spread like cancer! Soon, the new nurses would forget we work in hell because we would all be happy about it. We'd be so happy about working on our floor, we would work overtime!!

In an effort to commence with the sunshine blowing, a decorative box was placed in the break room. A "feel good" box of sorts. Everyone would get a name and have to write something nice about that person, and those compliments would be shared with everyone.

Is it me, or does this sound retarded?? Or more like something we did in the third grade.

I asked the person who is spearheading this activity what we should do if we can't find a nice thing to say about that person. That they have good hygiene? That they don't fart during report?? That they are best ass-kisser ever!? That they do a good job taking their psych meds as scheduled??

The Feel-Good Captain got all snippy with me, like it wasn't a valid question. I'm not going to write lies, because we all know what happens to liars...

They are thrust down to hell.

Feel-Good Captain was sizing me up. I could tell she decided that I was going to be the Scrooge of this project. That I would single-handedly bring the downfall of the Feel-Good Project. I wouldn't be surprised if she conveniently forgot to assign me a name of a staff member. Not that this is a bad thing. I prefer to dole out my compliments in person, and only if they are true.

I think I will just keep being my usual, charming, sarcastic self. With any luck, someone will write that about me.

Gah!

I was sent the wrong boots!!

Now, I have to scurry to find a replacement pair in time.

Monday's Musings

I left work early Saturday night because I thought I would become snarled in Elton John traffic on the way. So, I buzzed down 70, waiting for the backup of cars. Surprisingly, there wasn't any.

As I cut through on 670, I was still surprised to see hardly any traffic. Where were all these people who were going to see Sir Elton in concert?

Then it occurred to me...I was coming from the east. Jackson County. Land of people who are paying for the arena, but actually can't afford to go. It also occurred to me that in the land of Jackson, there might not be a huge Elton John following. I suspect the ratio of Garth Brooks fans to Elton fans to be very lopsided.

I popped out onto 35 South and saw the traffic coming from the Kansas side. Ahhh...so that's where the majority of the tickets went.

*****************

I'm still grossed out by the fact that there is a dead opossum sitting in a yellow garbage bag in my driveway. Brother is going to toss it in outgoing garbage for Monday. I don't care what he does with it, as long as I don't have to touch it. I'm kind of weird about that. I don't like touching dead animals. People are okay, but critters? No way!

*****************

I've decided to resume classes in the spring. It appears that to have a position beyond what I currently do, you have to have a Bachelors in Nursing. I only have an Associates. I find it amusing how some people put so much weight in a BSN degree vs an ADN degree. We learn the same things, we sit for the same boards, we can do the same job for the same salary. The only thing different is that the BSN programs have a couple more lessons in leadership...which also amuses me. I've always held to the belief that leadership isn't just learned by reading a book on it. That's like reading a book on surgery, and then proclaiming yourself a neurosurgeon. History tells us that all great leaders overcame some form of adversity to become the strong leaders of their day. And when I mean adversity, I'm not talking about a hangover you got once from partying too hard at a frat house. Or that you are going to have to actually work for money because once you graduate, the parent's take their credit card away.

At any rate, I figured I may as well start classes now. I may dislike my job, but they offer a pretty good tuition reimbursement deal. In a year I can bridge to the BSN, then take Bosshole's job.

Or not.

Her Name Is Lucy

This week, Brother and I are playing dogsitter for Brother's Special Friend. Last week, she apparently was rip-snortin' drunk, and thought oatmeal sounded like a fine idea. So, she puts a bowl in the microwave and zaps it for five minutes. Ding! She pulls it out and apparently has a seizure and spills the scalding contents of the bowl all over her. Later, in her post-dictal state, she comes to with severe burns on her arms and legs, and has no recollection of how she got them.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking...she just passed out from the booze and burned herself. While this might seem like a valid explanation, folks who are drunk, and burn themselves that badly, usually sober up right away. At any rate, Special Friend has a history of seizures. So moving right along...

Special Friend was admitted to the hospital on a burn floor, and would Brother mind watching her puppy while she's away? Sure! So, Brother brings home the dog. A one-year old mix of Rottweiler and German Shepherd. Her name is Lucy, and she is not fully house trained. Wonderful.

Sam didn't like Lucy right away. In fact, he became insanely hostile in a way I've never seen him be. So much, that I had to stand on the back deck with the garden hose and spray him anytime he took after her. There's no need to be territorial. Everyone is welcome here.

At the end of the day, Sam and Lucy became friends. Now, they are best friends. They play in the yard, they play in the house, they play in that mud puddle I have out by the storage shed. They take naps side by side. They eat together. They crap together. They were in secret collusion together when they destroyed my birdbath. When Sam sleeps in his kennel, she sleeps on the floor outside of it. It's almost nauseating how much togetherness I've witnessed this past week.

She's a sweet dog. Mild tempered. But man, she has the nastiest farts I have ever smelled coming from any living organism. They rival that of Brother's farts...which are also so bad, the paint peels off the walls.

Yesterday, I came home from work and Brother announced that Lucy killed a opossum in the back yard. Skeptical, he told me it was still out by the deck, so I looked, and was immediately sorry I did because it was nasty. I think opossums are nasty creatures. I couldn't decide if I should congratulate Lucy, or be repulsed. I never knew I had opossums in the back yard. Perhaps it lived under the deck. Maybe that's what that big hole by my deck is from. Whatever the case may be, I hope it's little friends witnessed the demise and have decided to move next door where the threat level is lower because they only have a little Pomeranian named Honey.

I demanded that Brother remove the offending carcass from the back yard as the dogs were wanting to go outside with the urgency of a crackhead that needs a rock. They wanted to revisit the scene of the crime, and I wasn't too keen on the idea of finding little opossum parts scattered around the lawn.

Now, Lucy has gone home as Special Friend has returned. Sam mopes around the house and looks for her, and has returned to barking at the dust bunnies under the couch. Maybe I will find him a more permanent playmate down the road. Maybe after the first of the year when I don't have so many things on my mind.

Add a Heaping Pile of Bullshit

I've been keeping tabs on the Lisa Montgomery trial. Appalling. Just seeing a picture of this woman's ugly mugshot makes me want to reach through the screen (computer or television) and cut off this woman's air supply, until she passes away. I'd like to think I'd be doing humanity a favor in doing so.

For those of you who are not familiar with the case, you can Google her name and become familiar with it pretty quickly. If the story doesn't make your blood curdle and boil at the same time, you need a mental check. I'll be more than happy to give it to you.

Prosecution rested, and the defense has begun. They want you to think that she is insane. I mean, what sane person could do this horrific thing? Lawyers are going to drag out the circus in an effort to spare their client from the needle. Today, they brought out the family, and from the sounds of it, they come from America's finest trailer park.

The angle? Lisa was abused as a child and that has made her mentally unstable, and that's why she did what she did. Family members testified to the abuse, subjected to a shitty childhood, blah, blah, blah.

I'm not going to argue that Lisa was or wasn't abused (Predictably, the stepfather denied the allegations. Actually, the entire family all but claimed to be angels.), but I am going to argue that being sexually abused ultimately leads a person to a life of crime and entitles them to no accountability whatsoever. I know a lot of people who were abused as children (sexually or otherwise), and have grown up to be perfectly normal, rational, productive law-abiding citizens. To say that being abused leads to heinous acts, does a grave disservice to those who have survived it and have not let it dictate what kind of person they should have become.

No, I'm going to call bullshit on this one. Yes, maybe she was abused as a child, but that didn't give her the green light to do what she did. In fact, that applies to anyone who was abused. People who use their childhood as justification for horrific acts need to have their asses kicked. I think Jeff Foxworthy said it best when he said, "You know, my mom was great. My dad was great. I'm just a shit head."

I don't buy the "insane" defense anymore than I desire to have a sex change (and that would be a HUGE NO). Lisa Montgomery deserves the death penalty for what she did.

Hell, I'd even volunteer to put in the IV.

Call Me One-Armed Jack

Today, I had to drive in to work to go visit Occupational Health, which ranks right up there on my list of favorite things to do, right under root canal. Because parking at my place of employment sucks in ways not yet discovered by modern man, I was surprised to find my favorite parking spot open, as if waiting for me like an old lover. Ahhh...

I saw a nurse practitioner and we went over what happened and where the pain was and blah, blah, blah. After agreeing with the whole "thoracic strain" diagnosis, I was put on restricted duty until my visit next week. In my case, no heavy lifting, pulling or pushing with my left arm. Unrestricted on the right.

That would really suck if I were a left-handed man who was a chronic masturbator.

Happily, I wasn't told to go see Physical Therapy. I hate Physical Therapy. I loathe it. It ranks right up there with onions and child molesters on The Things I Hate Most list. I'd rather sit at home and shove a hot curling iron up my ass than go to Physical Therapy. That's how much I hate it.

So, I return to work Friday, and we'll see how I can manage using only one arm. I can do all the work with my right arm, and the only thing I can do with the left is give the finger to stupid residents.

Before I left, I stopped by Bosshole's office where the Missus was visiting with their new hybrid (i.e. baby). Bosshole wasn't even aware I had been injured until I handed him the work-restriction form. Nothing slips past him, I tell ya! He mentioned we are losing another nurse because she is going to go on disability. If I were a wagering person, I would be willing to guess that it's because the cheese finally slipped off her cracker. After having to work with her, it was easy to tell that her elevator never quite made it to the top floor.

More to the point, staffing on my floor is going to hit critical mass by the end of October. I've resigned myself to the fact that I work in hell, and I am going to go to Costco first thing tomorrow and buy an economy size jar of Vaseline in preparation. I'm not sharing with the other nurses. They are going to need to get their own jars.

On a side note, I checked with the new schedule and I am off the night of the Halloween party. Woo-hoo! The way things are going at work, I'm going to need that night off as a mental health day anyway.

Halloween Costume Progress

I ordered my Halloween costume today. Hopefully, it will fit when it arrives. If not, I'm going to be pissed. If not, Plan B isn't too far behind Plan A. I usually have a back-up plan in most situations.

Costume: check
Boots: check
Frilly under-dress skirt thingie: in progress
Hat: in progress
Fishnet stockings: in progress

I'm going to look pretty dang hot in this getup. I don't know if I will be bringing someone with me to the costume party (anyone want to be my date?), but I do know that someone better hit on me while I'm there. I don't care if you have to pretend like you are interested. As long as it's enough to fluff my ego, we're golden!

Too bad things didn't pan out with Ridiculously Hot Guy (his shirt still hangs in my laundry room). He'd make a fine date and I could totally stare at his fine ass for the evening.

I even managed to get off work for the evening of the much anticipated Blogoholics Halloween Party (provided no one jacks up the schedule). I'm really looking forward to it. The rest of you better dress up. I don't want to be the only one there in costume.

If I can do it, anyone can!!

Monday's Musings

This weekend started par for the course. Worked on Friday. Worked sucked on Friday. Such is the nature of things. Why even mention it?

Saturday was heading in the same direction. Around 8:30, I was with a patient discussing how her hand almost came off, when I was helping re-adjust the pillow behind her when I felt something clench in my upper back. Pain and suffering ensued. I tried to shrug it off as just a muscle cramp and went about my work. An hour later, I couldn't even turn my head.

The charge nurse sent me down to the ER where I got the once-over by various staff. It was decided I had "thoracic strain", given some scripts for various meds, and sent home. After I returned to my floor to finish my charting and give report to the nurses who would be taking over my patients, I left around 1am.

I stopped by Wally World on the way home to pick up an ice bag. Some very interesting people visit that place late at night, and they also bring their very small children. Who keeps their kids up at that hour? From there, I went home and crawled into bed.

The next morning, it hurt to even climb out of bed, but I managed to so I could give Little Roo her shot. This was a painful experience for us both because I had to crawl under the bed to fish her out. Not having anything better to do after that, I went back to bed.

Around 1pm, I got up and realized I needed to fill the prescriptions, but I had to drive to BFE to do it. Unfortunately, I live on the other side of town, close enough to the stadiums to hear the collective groan coming from Arrowhead. So, I haul ass across town, have my scripts filled, and drive back home. Fortunately, I missed getting clogged in post-game traffic.

The muscle relaxers, coupled with the pain pill and anti-inflammatory, worked great. Now, it's all worn off, and my back still feels crappy. Getting out of bed was a fun task. Looks like I will be self-medicating again this morning. On a more pleasant note, Brother brought me delicious coffee this morning.

Funny thing about that combination of meds is that it leads me to extreme relaxation where I just sit at the computer and shop. And I drool a lot. This week's medicine-influenced purchase: one pair of black, platform, knee-high boots. Surely, I can incorporate this in my Halloween costume. While waiting for the pharmacist yesterday, I meandered over to the costume store and perused the isles, my mind a whirling cesspool of creative alternatives.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I am sitting here, feelings hurt. I'm not going to elaborate much on the matter, other than this is starting to be a regular occurrence. What does one do when someone regards your feelings as nothing more than a punchline to some lame joke? Yeah, I'm usually a barrel of laughs, but my life is not a comedy.

I have feelings, too.

Finally...That Nursing Know-How Put to Use

As you may remember, I took my cat to the vet earlier this week because she lost a shit-ton of weight in a relatively short period. That, and she was behaving funny. The vet drew blood, took some urine, and told me to call the next day for the results.

I slept through the next day with the help of Flexaril, so I completely forgot to call the vet.

I called yesterday, and Dr. Vet (who is the most awesome vet in the whole wide world), told me that Little Roo was diabetic, her blood sugar nearing the 500-range. That's not particularly good for a human, so I can only imagine how bad that would be for a cat.

While diabetes is curable, it certainly is manageable. This morning, when I went to pick up Brother from work, I toted Roo with me in her box and stopped by the vet's office where they gave her the first dose of insulin, showed me how to do it, gave me a prescription for said insulin, and sent me on my way. I then stopped by Mom's office where she had a box of insulin syringes she wasn't going to use (as she no longer needs to take insulin), then I stopped by the pharmacy to have my script filled. The pharmacist kind of looked at me funny when I told them that Roo was a cat. Apparently, they don't fill scripts from veterinary offices too often.

Pharmacist: I'll need an address for Roo.

Me: It's the same as mine.

Pharmacist: Okay (writing address down as I recite it to him). Now, does Roo have a phone number?

Me: Well, she doesn't have her own phone. She just uses mine.

Pharmacist fills my script and I pay a whopping $83 for one little bottle of insulin. I really need to look into pet insurance. That little shit has cost me almost $300 in less than a week. Fortunately, the insulin should last me until mid-next year. However, in addition to the special diet I have to provide for George and his Peehole Issues, I now have to give Roo a special diet to accommodate her diabetes. Not to mention the insulin shots I have to give her twice a day. She's 13 years old, so it's not like I would let her go untreated to the point she has to be euthanized. I've had her forever. In fact, she was given to me by my cousin because she hated my fiance at the time, and thought I would love the cat more.

She was right.

And so begins my journey to Crazy Single Cat Lady Status. Thanks for stopping by!

Another Blogger Meetup, Winding Down

I almost didn't make it to the blogger meet and greet. Brother announced he had to go to work early, which means he would need to take my car. Deflated, I sat on the couch and pouted until I had an epiphany. Call Mom!! So, I did, and she graciously agreed to picking Brother up and taking him to work. I know Brother is saving up money for the new transmission and all, but this is starting to get old. Everytime I look at the odometer on the car, my asshole twitches.

So, I went to the meetup. Saw some folks I knew, and new bloggers I hadn't met yet. I finally got to meet Kristine. Like two ships passing in the night, we finally got to ram into each other (no homo).

Overall, a good blogger turnout. We covered many varied topics like Faith's suggestion for conversation topic. We also talked about a Halloween party and various costume ideas, the D's craptastic date and his unfortunate problem, and then some general insults were tossed back and forth between the KU-lovers, and the K-State lovers. I'm a Huskers fan myself, so I don't care either way.

Naturally, Tony didn't make it out of his mother's basement to grace us with his presence. Now that he's a bigtime award blogger, he doesn't bother with us lowbrow peons. Had he came to the meetup, he would have been treated to the plentiful cleavage...as far as the eye could see. His loss.

Everyone was also asking where Paul (ND!) was at, because I guess we're a couple...but not really. I'm sure they all wanted to know when he was going to pull his head out of his ass, but I could be mistaken. I've put myself back on the singles market, as it were. So, I guess it would be a moot point.

Many left, and a handful of us stayed and were rewarded for our perseverance when KCSponge popped in. I hung around for a little longer to engage in conversation, but left around 11pm and started for my way home. I stopped at a light when I noticed police lights flashing in the next lane opposite of me. Then I noticed the little SUV they had pulled over. THEN I noticed the two police officers with GUNS DRAWN ordering the guy out of the vehicle. The guy in question, looked at me, I soiled myself, and then sped away as soon as that light turned green.

That's what I get for taking a shortcut through the 'hood to get home.

It was good to see everyone again, and meet the new faces. I'm going to update my blogroll before I go to bed.

Sometimes, It Hurts Being Right

I hate saying "I told you so!"

So I won't. You can read about it yourself.

Another Meet and Greet!!

Thursday October 4th 2007, 5pm

CHARLIE HOOPER'S BROOKSIDE BAR

W 63rd StKansas City, MO 64113

816-361-884112

Be there or be square!!

How I Spent Last Night

I really didn't have anything big planned, so when Mom called that day to see if I would take her place at some dinner thing at Arrowhead because she had injured her back overdoing it at the gym, I said why not. One catch: the ticket was non-transferable, therefore, I would not only be going in my mother's stead, I would be going as my mother.

I meet Mr. Recommendation at Arrowhead. It was by his company that I was able to attend this event, thrown by the folks of FedEx. I checked in (under my mother's name), and got a big, fat name tag with my mother's name on it. I was no longer a nurse. Instead, I crunched numbers for a living.

First, we meandered around the Pavilion, stopping by various little booths where FedEx employees got to tell you all about the wonderful ways FedEx can ship your packages. You were given a card the you filled in as you went with all kinds of facts and figures. When you were finished, you submitted your card and at the end of the night, they drew a name for various prizes like autographed football, helmet, and some other stuff.

Everyone got the opportunity to tour Arrowhead stadium, so our group was the first to go. We walked inside the lobby, and around the corner were some bronze busts of various players who did well. In the middle was the one, the only, the Superbowl trophy.

At the rate the team is going, this could very well be the only one we ever get. Note how grubby it is. I wonder if the fingerprints belong to Carl Peterson, on those days he's alone in the building, and cries over the trophy, knowing he won't see another one in his lifetime...

From there, we went to the press box, which was kind of impressive. Apparently, the press box is extremely quiet during game time. No cheering, yelling, etc. Unbiased reporters, ya know. I'm guessing Bill Grigsby has to sit somewhere else.This was the view from the press box. You can still see the lines from when the Wizards played. Flanking the press box is Hermy's office, which we were not allowed to see (I suspect that is where he keeps his alien space craft.), and the owner's suite. I didn't know this, but there is a three story apartment in Arrowhead that the Hunt family stays in when they are in town. I wonder if that is where Marty stayed when his wife kicked him out for banging that teenager.

Next stop: the dark underbelly of Arrowhead. The Chiefs locker room.

Big, roomy, with slut-red carpet. And guess what? It smells like any other locker room. We got to walk around, looking inside various lockers. Some of these guys have more shoes than I do! At one point, a player (I don't know which one), popped out of the shower room wearing nothing but a towel. Upon seeing the 25 strangers milling around the locker room, he uttered an expletive and scampered back into the shower room. Regretfully, I didn't get a picture.
This was posted just as you leave the locker room. The Official Kansas City Chiefs Statement Concerning Violence. I'm guessing there are some players who haven't read it, or can't.

We make our way through the very plain "cafeteria", which is boring and consists of just some tables, two refrigerators, and a shitload of bananas, to the tunnel which is the same tunnel the players run out of on game day. Finally, out on the field. I don't know why I expected the field to be larger than life. It's the same size as any other football field. I should know, I marched on one toting a 40lb snare drum for 4 years. Anyway, after the crap-ton of rain, everything was soggy. Don't step on the grass!
Oops. I stepped on the grass. My bad.

After that, we went down the little tunnel from the 50 yard line to catch the elevators, and head back to the Pavilion. On our way, we encountered a surly Gunther Cunningham, who opted to take the stairs instead of having to share an elevator with us peons. Fuck him. I didn't take his picture because it wasn't worth the effort. There was one guy who I swore looked like Dick Vermeil. Mr. Recommendation vetoed this because he's gotten drunk with Dick before. And therefore, he knows Dick.

Back in the Pavilion, it was time for dinner, so everyone fixed a plate and found a seat in the dining area.

The food wasn't too bad. I liked the asparagus, the green beans were unremarkable. I'm a big fan of Caesar salad. For dessert they had a chocolate fountain with various things to dip into it. It gave me ideas for the next time I drag out the fondue pot. To wash it all down was all the beer you could drink...and wine...and more beer. Did I mention they had beer??

During dinner, some FedEx guys spoke about how wonderful they were and how wonderfully they could ship my FedEx packages. Take that, UPS!! The guy who was the ringleader was way too excited. I can't imagine how much Prozac I would have to take to sound that happy about my job.

Two players from the Chiefs made an appearance. Derrick Johnson and Boomer Grigsby. Before his appearance, Boomer tore into the parking lot in his super-charged Mustang. Upon seeing a group of people, he decided to spin out in an effort to make himself look more like an ass, and almost running over a couple people in the process. Security rushed over to him, and he physically pushed them aside, not to be bothered with such trivial things like being a responsible driver. Douchebag. Play one game well, and you apparently turn into a certifiable asshole. He had the top down on his car. I suspect that was the only way he could drive it with that big head of his. Before he disappeared, he barked at the security guards, "Don't let anything happen to my car!" If a security guard would have whipped out his weiner and pissed all over the leather seats, I would have asked for his autograph.So, for about 15-25 minutes, there is a Q&A session where these two get to masturbate themselves silly over how awesome they are. I must confess, Boomer's kind of a hottie, but the whole douchebag factor more than kills it for me. Fake-boobied Johnson County hos can have him. I prefer Respiratory Therapists anyway...

After the Q&A, we get to line up to have our picture taken with the players and have something autographed. Some people brought shirts, hats, or balls. Sadly, I came ill-prepared. Because FedEx is a wonderful company and can wonderfully ship my packages, they have thought of everything. For those of us who didn't bring anything, they provided mini Chiefs helmets. This was good because I was worried I'd have to wing out a boob for them to sign. I hear they do that.

My turn, and I get my picture taken. Neither player turns around to even look at me. I could have been a 6 foot drag queen in a gorilla costume for all they know. The photographer calls me by my mother's name, and I am momentarily confused. It lasts less than a second. He takes the pic, I get my signed helmet, and I am ushered off the stage.

All the excitement has worn me out, so I decide to cut out and go home. Mr. Recommendation opts to stay a little longer. Shortly after I get home, he calls to tell me that my name was drawn for one of the prizes: the autographed helmet. You had to be present to win.

Brother was eyeballing my loot from the event, including the miniature helmet. What does one do with such an item, anyway? It's not like the ones you get at Royals games that you can eat ice cream out of.

This House is CLEAR

This morning, I woke up around 9am. Brother was supposed to have brought me coffee, but a visit to the kitchen revealed no cup of Joe with my name on it. Butthole forgot the coffee! Oh well.

I showered, dressed, and drove to OP to have my one-month-overdue follow up visit with the Dr, who reported that the path report came back clear, so she got everything with her little procedure on Heather's Adventure Kingdom. However, I've decided to keep the park closed indefinitely...not that anyone is interested in visiting anyways. On another happy note, I've dropped 13lbs since my last office visit. Yay! This might explain why my scrub pants kept wanting to fall down this weekend.

On another side note, my pressure was a little high, and when I mentioned that I pulled something in my back this weekend and it still hurts, the good doctor was nice enough to write me a script for some muscle relaxers to take before I go to bed. Woo-hoo! I might actually get a decent sleep since Friday.

I returned home, tricked my cat (Roo) out from under the bed and took her to the vet. She's lost a bunch of weight lately, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn't from something bad. The vet took blood and assessed the old girl, and said he didn't immediately see anything wrong, but the lab results should be ready tomorrow afternoon, and we'll know for sure. For the time being, he suspects that it's all related to the fact that she's getting older and may have an issue that old cats often get. After thinking about it, I realized Roo is 13 years old.

Tonight, I'm going as a sub-in to some dinner thingie at Arrowhead. There's supposed to be a reception, a dinner, a tour of the stadium, and some sort of meet and greet/autograph session with a couple of the Chiefs players. I'm going to take my camera. Hopefully, there will be some good blog-fodder there.

That's all for now. I have to go get ready for my big night out.

Me...and Me...and Me

Newsweek posted this story online about Googlegangers, which is the end result after you google your own name on the internet. Out of boredom, and curiousity, I decided to try. Turns out that I'm a pretty busy person.

-> I am an actor in second string productions in little local theatres no one has ever heard of in the Oregon area. I play support characters. Ahh...always the extra and never the star. I also look like a man.

-> I also had a bit part in a television show Rough Crossing on the USA Network. I'm the third person on the left by the water cooler. This acting career is REALLY taking off. Julia Roberts better watch her ass!!

-> Dear Lord...I was a student at Pittsburg State. I was a kick-ass volleyball player AND an accounting major. Unfortunately, that's about as exciting as life got for me.

-> Oops...BUSTED! A DWI somewhere in Maryland!!I blew a .15, got slapped with a $1,000 fine and 1 year probation. I was really stupid at 21 years old. The parents were so pissed!!

-> I'm some sort of dental assistant in Colorado for a dental who specializes in dental implants. I've been happily married for almost two years and I enjoy art, camping and baking. I love cuddling with my cat, or my husband. Sometimes at the same time! Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go take a purge. Then, I'm going to load up the minivan and go to my yoga class.

-> I have a daughter and am married to a, gulp, minister. An internet minister. Our website has all kinds of nature pictures to help you feel at one with God and nature and deers and stuff. We provide you God's teachings on beautiful wallpaper that you can put on your computer to ignore later when you are surfing for porn. If you send us money, we can add more pictures of furry woodland creatures.

-> I ran in some women's run thingie in Kansas City. Oh wait...I really did that.

-> Still acting in plays. I can't seem to make it outside the Oregon state line. At this rate, it's going to take YEARS to get to Broadway. Oh...and I still look like a man.

Monday's Musings

I thought I would start this Monday Musings because I usually have a bunch of random thoughts throughout the weekend, but usually don't have the time or the energy to sit down and actually write a full blown post about each and every little thing. Instead, I figured a quick and dirty rundown would suffice.
**********************
So I am sitting here at work, waiting for labs on a patient that may or may not be doing poorly. Some people look like crap no matter what. This patient happens to fall in that category. Sometimes the ICU folks send their peeps over prematurely and I end up sending them right back. Sort of like returning a steak because it isn't cooked thoroughly. Meanwhile, I have another patient that is going through the dying process. The family is real great about everything...no dramatics or heroics involved. I wish I could spend more time with the family as they maintain their bedside vigil. I really don't mind being involved in this sort of situation. Dying is a very personal experience, and I am honored that I'm trusted enough to be allowed to share in the journey.
Other than that, the entire weekend has sucked. Which means it was an average weekend.
***********************
Brother has announced that he will more than likely be purchasing a new transmission for Oprah. Yay!! With any luck, he will have it installed this weekend and I can put my girly car decorations back up in the PT. It's not that I mind Brother driving the car, but the extra mileage makes me cringe. In the month that he's been driving it, almost 2500 more miles have been tacked on.
***********************
Three experienced nurses are poised to leave the floor within the next two weeks. Either transferring to other floors or quitting outright. Bosshole still has his head in the sand about why everyone is bailing out, and I suspect the higher ups have no clue as to what is going on as Bosshole has anyone outside the unit snowed by way of thinking that everything is roses and butterscotch pudding. Things should get very interesting by the end of the month...and not in a good way.
***********************
Red has put in her two weeks notice at work as she is going to venture into the exciting field of travel nursing. Up until now, I never thought that was an option for me because I have the house. Up until now. Recent developments have illustrated that no one gives two shits whether I stay in Kansas City or not (aside from my mother), so I am also looking into it. Seriously. I'm going to update my resume this week.
Palm Springs, anyone??