Saturday, May 31, 2008

Drug-Induced Blathering

My apologies to all who have sent well-wishes and such my way, and they would appear to go unacknowledged. That's not the case. My day brightens when I get a text from someone, or someone stops by. It's nice to know that people think of me, even if I might be in too much of a fog to reply.

As of late, me and my new little Percocet friends have been playing post-op games. Our most favorite being "Naptime" in which I take my meds as prescribed, and then go sleep for half a day. Get up, pee, repeat. Sometimes, Flexaril will join in the festivities.

Let's face it...when you have a bad wheel, there's not a lot you can do other than sleep. It's kind of depressing, actually.

My least favorite post-op game is called "Constipated". That one is not too hard to figure out.

After my surgery, I felt well enough to walk around the house without the crutches. I rejoiced in knowing my knee was fixed, and other than the extreme nausea, it was all cake. I even got two loads of laundry done!

Unfortunately, I forgot that the post-anesthesia euphoria was short-lived, and I woke up with a stiff, painful knee. So, it was back to the crutches. I spent an entire day trying to get my leg to bend 30 degrees.

I was able to shower 48 hours after surgery, and while trying to do it while standing on one leg was a challenge, washing my hair was a near-orgasmic experience. I felt NASTY.

As the days have gone by, so have the Percocets. I've managed to somewhat retire the crutches and am gimping around the house unassisted. I've been doing some of the exercises I remember from my physical therapy days, and the strength is returning to my leg. I wrap and re-wrap the knee in the bandages, pile ice bags on it, and avoid resting my leg on pillows like the doctor instructed me. I'm nowhere near 100%, but I'm getting there slowly. My knee is incredibly swollen and bruised, but I can already notice a difference for the better.

However, with the lack of activity in my life, I've been on the grumpy side, and I did snap at Brother for something really stupid. Hopefully, he understands that this is all residual of surgery, and things will return to normal in a month or so. Say, when I get my life back.

Mr. Recommendation and I have been talking, and we are ready to start work on the house again. Actually, he would do most of the work, and I would write the checks to Lowes and Home Depot. I'm pretty excited about my tentative projects, mainly being all three bathrooms and some kitchen stuff. I suspect tomorrow will be the first salvo of my new bathroom campaign.

Still talking to my old friend (of whom I will refer to as Legal Beagle on this blog). I've been sort of feeling down lately, and he inadvertently reminded me that I'm a fierce, sexy woman that possesses the ability to drive men wild. Granted he is a lawyer, and lawyers are specially trained to say all the right things at the right times, it was nice to hear. Usually, guys crawl over me to get to whomever is sitting beside me, but in my own special way, I am also a force of nature. Sensual and tough. Witty and sexy. Princess Diana in public and Carmen Luvana behind closed doors.

It's how I roll.

And if some guys out there can't see that, then that is their loss. While I may appear invisible to some, I'm a beacon to others...and I shouldn't blame myself because some guy is a dumbass and wouldn't know a good thing if it came up and slapped him upside the head with a dead salmon.

As for Legal Beagle and myself...we're still just talking. Mostly just talking about how awesome it was when we were dating three years ago. He's seeing someone else right now, but it's nothing serious (or so he tells me). I'd like to hope that maybe there is a second chance on yonder horizon. The only reason we stopped seeing each other in the first place was because of the time demands of his new job, not to mention he just wasn't ready to go straight into a serious relationship after being freshly divorced. I'm not pinning my hopes on anything, but rather just taking things as they come. I can only worry about the things I can control, and there are plenty of those things to keep me occupied for a while.

Besides, the conversations keep me pretty happy for the time being. And I'm pretty content knowing that I still haunt his dreams. Not too many women can claim to affect a guy like that. I, however, have it in spades.

I'm starting to feel the meds kick in, so armed with my ice bag, I shall go to bed.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


I'm home from surgery. Actually, I've been home since 11:30 or so, but I just went to bed and snoozed. I'm still tired. I'm still trying to clear the anesthesia from my body, and I can't decide which sounds that cheeseburger that's sitting in the microwave that I only took one bite of earlier, or just go throw up. Both sound good to me right now.

I've had a handful of surgeries requiring general anesthesia. I have to say, this is the most difficult when it comes to the anesthesia. I feel like shit.

So, I drive us all the way to BFE to the hospital, hauling ass on I-70 going 80-85mph. We decided to take the PT instead of Mom's SUV because it would be better on gas. And afterward, Mom would drive it home. More on this later.

I check in, fill out some paperwork. I pee in a cup so they can run a pregnancy test. Mom's eyes get big like paper plates when the nurse tells me this. Predictably, I'm not with child. Nurse puts in the IV (which hurts like bitch). Not meaning to toot my own horn here, but my IV's don't hurt when I put them in because I'm good like that. Not all nurses have mad IV skillz like me.

At any rate, she starts IV fluids and leaves the room. Almost instantly, I get really nauseated, and I get this funny tickling sensation in my throat. I cough like I'm going to expectorate a lung. It was really, really weird. By the time nurse returns, the episode has passed. Anesthesia doc and my ortho doc come in a talk to me. Ortho doc draws a smiley face on the knee he's supposed to work on.

I selected this particular orthopedic doctor for two reasons: A) he was highly recommended and B) I used to work with his mother...and she highly recommended him for 7.5 years. So, before ortho doc leaves my room, I tell him that if he botches this procedure, I'm going to rat him out to his mother.

A quick Versed push, and I'm wheeled to the O.R. By the time I get to there, I feel the effects, but I'm not all giggly like I usually am with Versed. I'm strapped onto a table, and then I'm out like a light.

The next thing I know, nurse is waking me up. Why can't they just let you sleep as long as you want, I don't know. It's not like they were busy today. I'm given the obligatory crackers and juice and Fentanyl. Less than an hour later, I'm ready to go home. Still groggy. Still grumpy. Mom goes to get the car.

As I'm sitting in a wheelchair outside the hospital, Mom proceeds to back the car right into a small concrete column. It results in a few scratches and she feels bad. I guess there is a big difference between driving a Jeep Liberty and a PT Cruiser.

En route, we stop at a pharmacy to fill my prescriptions, stop by McDonald's for something to eat. Still nauseated, I can only manage one bite before I wrap it back up to save for later. And it now sits in the microwave, waiting.

For the most part, my knee doesn't hurt. They ended up repairing the torn cartilage, and doing a tendon release. I should be able to return to work in two weeks. The best physical therapy.

However, I still feel like crap. Nauseated as all get out. I've always heard of patients who get sick post-op, but have never experienced it until now. Oddly enough, I only feel gross when I'm out of bed, which I take a sign to stay in bed for the rest of the day.

And I'm going there right now.


It's almost 2:30 in the morning. I should be in bed, alarm set to ring at 5am. I've taken a shower, complete with antibacterial Dial soap. I stopped eating and drinking around midnight.

Surgery day has finally arrived.

Mom will be driving me to the hospital. Actually, I opted to have my procedure at a smaller, satellite hospital. As much I may like the hospital I work at, the surgery department doesn't instill a lot of confidence in me. With my luck, I'd go in for simple knee surgery, and come out with a colostomy bag.

Doc: We fixed your knee, but we did accidentally perforate your colon.

Smo already said she would burp my colostomy bag for me if that happened. I don't know how many people have had experience with colostomies, but the gas they pass has a smell so heinous, the mere thought is giving me heartburn right this minute.

That is the sign of a true friend.

Today, Mom and Mr. Recommendation grilled out. I made delicious pasta and fruit salads. Afterwards, we played dominoes. It was a good night. The only setback was getting ass-raped at QuikTrip to the tune of $52. To fill a PT Cruiser. That big a screwing and no kiss? Would it be too much to hope that the American oil tycoons experience impotency so bad, that their penises shrivel up and fall off the first time they tried to correct it with Viagra??

At any rate, I should be back online when the anesthesia clears and I am coherent enough to be trusted around a computer.

Wish me luck!!

Sunday, May 25, 2008

QuikTrip Wedding Revisited

I didn't go the QuikTrip wedding. As much as I wanted to, I had to work that night and it was simply too far for me to drive there, feast my eyes on the spectacle, drive all the way home, and then try to squeeze a nap in before I went to work.

Lucky for me, I have friends who went. Indy, for lack of better things to do, not to mention that the opportunity to observe such a event rarely presents itself, dressed in his best camouflage shorts and t-shirt, went. AND he took his camera.

More on that later...

When I posted about the wedding, there was a certain anonymity to my post. No real names and a vague location. I figured that if the happy couple wanted to out themselves, they would.

And they didn't disappoint.

A family member sent a email to the Johnny Dare show spilling all the details, first and last names. The couple did not send this email. The couple were annoyed, especially the groom, who didn't want his wedding to turn into a circus.

Let's pause while we wrap our minds around this: the couple was getting married at a gas station, and the groom didn't want it to become a circus.

~scratches head~

A day or two later, the anti-circus groom sends an email to the Johnny Dare show, whoring himself out for free stuff under the guise of "wedding presents". Johnny promises they will send someone from the station out to the wedding. Surprise, surprise...they didn't. No word on any freebies.

In all it's ghetto fabulous glory, Indy calls me periodically, giving me updates. He's absolutely giddy, and I'm fairly confident he had a boner. All the while, snapping pics with his digital camera. Pics of the arch, pics of the minister/judge (who had never married anyone at a gas station before), pics of the donut case inside the store. Indy is snap happy with a camera...which we discover will work to the favor of everyone involved.

Because this wedding has not one ounce of any discernible professional planning, the photographer is a friend with a nice camera. Her father dabbles on the side as a photographer. He gets paid to take pictures. However, he can't make it to the wedding. Dumbass Daughter volunteers to take the pics because she "knows how to do it".

After the wedding ceremony is complete, Dumbass "Photographer" goes to change the film in the camera, and discovers she can't get the film to rewind. Further scrutiny reveals that she loaded the film backwards (of which I'm still trying to figure out how this is possible, because there is only one way film will go into a camera).

End Result = No wedding pictures.

Oh! But wait!! What about that guy in the green camouflage shorts that was taking pictures? And just like that, Indy goes from being Missouri Rubbernecker, to Wedding Photographer.

Pictures will be forthcoming, as soon as Indy figures out how to load them on his computer. He's a techtard, but coming along slowly.

(If anyone in blogdom also attended this blessed event and took pictures, email me (or the pics) to headhurt at hotmail dot com.)

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Hump Day Blather

I met up with my friend Trish for lunch today with her two sisters, who are always fun to hang around. I don't have any sisters. I wish I did, because boys are kind of gross. Since I grew up in a house full of testosterone, I throw punches like a boy (instead of hair pulling like girls do). I can dismantle objects and put them back together. I can also belch the National Anthem.

So, in light of my sisterlessness, I do have a few pseudo sisters. Trish being one. Another one being H.C. (So, if Brother fucks it up with her, I'm totally kicking his ass...)

At any rate, lunch with Trish and the girls = fun afternoon. After that, Trish and I went and got pedicures where the lady who did mine proceeded to cut my toe off with her clippers. Seriously. There was blood. Needless to say, I won't be going back.

I spent the remaining afternoon with Mom. Another salad outing, plus a brief excursion to the grocery store. I cleaned the kitchen, and did some laundry. If I were pregnant, what I am doing would be considered nesting. But I am not pregnant. I am having knee surgery next week, and I would like to coast the rest of the week with a clean house.

I think the knee knows the jig is up. It's been hurting especially bad this week. I look like I'm mentally challenged whenever I go up and down the stairs. As if approaching stairs is as difficult as quantum physics. What the hell was I thinking when I bought a house with stairs???

I think it's safe to say my ACL is shot. And not a moment too soon. I can't wait for it to be fixed so I can start doing things I like. Swimming. Roller blading. Biking. Walking up and down stairs.

On a much more cheerful note, I've managed to reconnect with an old friend, and it feels good. Real good. Maybe it's one of those things coming full circle. Give me a month and I will know for sure.

American Botards

I don't watch American Idol. Even though I go to great lengths to avoid watching this show, I still am subjected to it.

So, we are now down to the final two...The Utah Mormon vs. That Kid That KC Has Been Cramming Down My Throat. I read somewhere that his old house is for sale, and the realtor is even actually using that as a sales feature.

You too could sit on the very toilet that David Cook's bare ass sat on!!

Really tough choice. My loathing of Utah Mormons has been well documented (when I see a picture of the Dad, I start looking for sharp objects). And if I hear the name David Cook mentioned one more time, I'll barf. Really. He looks like he combed his hair with a pork chop.

Why can't the Westboro Baptist Church picket this show? They could say God Hates America, and that is why we now have Simon Cowell, Batshit Crazy Paula, and a plethora of fame whores willing to sing my ears into a full-on hemorrhage.

I'm rooting for a Scud missile to hit the theater just as they are about to announce the winner.

Only then would I actually start to like the show.

Friday, May 16, 2008

A Study in Ghetto Fantastic

H.C. called me yesterday, frustrated.

Her cousin (Big Ed) will be getting married over Memorial Weekend. They had a lovely day planned. Wedding and reception at Table Rock lake. Big Ed (who is a fluffy female), calls to announce a change in plans. The reception will still be down in the Branson area, but the details of the wedding has changed. Instead of the lovely backdrop of Table Rock lake, the backdrop of the nuptials will now be the familiar red backdrop of a well-known insitution...i.e. QuickTrip.

What. The. Hell.

Big Ed and her beloved are both employees at QuickTrip and figured it to be charming to have their wedding there. They selected one in JoCo (somewhere off Blackbob) because "they have pretty landscaping".

Of course, the PTB at Quick Trip have a colossal boner and plan on putting pictures of the event in their corporate newsletter. However, they have asked that those who are attending the wedding to please carpool because they still need the space for their paying customers.

"You guys can always take the bus!" I happily suggested.

Naturally, I had some questions. Will corporate kick in some munchies after the wedding? If so, don't go with the corn dogs. They're nasty. The taquitos aren't too bad, I guess. A far better choice than the eggrolls.

You hear about couples having their wedding in strange and unusual places...but I always figured either one or both parties were mentally retarded.

Understandably, H.C.'s head is about to explode. Top this off with the fact that she has to wear the ugliest orange bridesmaid dress on the planet. If I were in her shoes, I think I would fake my own death and go to Mexico. Because you know, while this event makes a valiant effort to be solemn and touching, some asshole is going to be in the immediate background, pumping $4/gallon gas.

Indy has volunteered to be that asshole. He also plans on taking his camera.

Brother and I were discussing this ad nauseum yesterday. Our family has done some pretty spectacular fucked up stuff...but this really, really takes the cake. Redneck Brother's bowling alley reception cannot hold a candle to getting married at a gas station.

At any rate, I'm strongly encouraging that Brother go to the wedding (as he and H.C. are dating). And not to forget to take the camera. Meanwhile, he needs to locate one of those t-shirts that look like a tuxedo on the front. He has one week to do it.

So, if you are planning a staycation next weekend, and are looking for something interesting to do, stop by the QuickTrip off Blackbob around 1:30 next Friday and wish the newlyweds well.

Take lots of pictures for me...and don't eat the corndogs.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Monday's Musings

Brother reports that he shot a big raccoon that was hanging out on the back porch this weekend. He let Hank outside and saw the big monster just as Hank did, and was able to drag Hank back into the house by his tail before the creature decided to shred the Saint Bernard. From there, Brother tossed some bread on the deck, armed himself with his trusty Red Ryder BB Gun (and possibly dressed in his Real Tree cammo), and waited. The raccoon, unable to resist the aroma of day-old Wonder Bread, came out from his hiding spot where he met the business end of Brother and the BB gun. Brother also has a 45, but felt it might make too much noise in our fairly quiet neighborhood, especially with all the cops who live around me. Besides, leveling a 45 at a raccoon is like using a Sherman tank to hunt a deer. Overkill.

The raccoon, hit somewhere in the neck, ran away, scaled the 6 foot privacy fence, and escaped to the neighbor's yard, where, I assume, he died a slow painful death. Later in the evening, Brother spotted a smaller raccoon emerging from under the deck. However, his previous escapade caused him to waste his entire load of pellets, and he was rendered the impotent hunter for the rest of the evening.

Don't you guys ever learn to pace yourselves???

So now I am considering hiring someone to come and trap my very own wildlife sanctuary that resides in my back yard. Then, they can be released elsewhere. Far, far away from my house. Opossums, raccoons, bunnies. God only knows what else is living under my deck. Some nights, I look out the window and almost expect to see Al Sharpton crawling out from behind the chiminea.


Yesterday was Mother's Day. Because I had to work, I really couldn't do much for Mom to celebrate. I did, however, call her. She was rather glum. Some further scrutiny revealed that Redneck Brother had not called. We attributed this to the fact that he borrowed money from Mom about three weeks ago, and has yet to pay her back. When she loaned him the money, the agreement was that he would pay her back the following week.

I love my brother, but I think he could use a good kick in the head. The only time he calls is when he wants something. Since he figured out that the First National Bank of H-Train had closed, he hasn't called. Brother is fearful to talk to him because he knows he'll be hit up for something.

Deep down, Mom thinks that she was a horrible mother, and that is why Redneck Brother is an inconsiderate asshole. I tell her that is not the case, but rather, he is just a shit-head. A trait inherited from father's side of the family.


I came home this morning to a GINORMOUS Bow-Flex occupying the other spot in the garage. Apparently, Brother bought this monstrous torture device from a guy he works with, for a fraction of what they actually sell for. It's supposed to go in the basement, but I have my doubts because the basement has a low ceiling. Brother says he's measured and it will fit. However, I wonder if the fit is contingent on how many holes Brother can cut into the ceiling. There's already a punching bag affixed to a joist, courtesy of Brother. Directly in front of where the television is supposed to go. Men have no concept of floor layout and interior design.

At this rate, he's not going to have any room for a bed if he keeps adding to his own personal gym. He'll be stuck in the guest room forever. I guess if the trade-off is a home gym in my basement that everyone can hang clean clothes on, I can live with that.

Friday, May 09, 2008

Friday Feast: The Late Night Fridge Raid Edition

When someone smiles at you, do you smile back?
Yes, but it's probably a weak attempt at a smile. I don't usually like to smile unless I mean it.

Describe the flooring in your home. Do you have carpet, hardwood, vinyl, a mix?
My upstairs is carpet. Crappy linoleum in the bathrooms (which will be switched out for porcelain tile). Downstairs in the living room is cherry pergo, and the rest is parquet. My basement is multicolored foam tile.

Write a sentence with only 5 words, but all of the words have to start with the first letter of your first name.
Heather Has Heard Happy Horns.

Main Course
Do you know anyone whose life has been touched by adoption?
Not people, just animals.

Name 2 blue things.
Caribbean water. My ink pen.

Shrimp On The Barbie!

Wednesday night, I hosted a bbq at my house, mostly those who attended were nurses. I didn't go to the great lengths of preparation I did with the Christmas party, as this was an intimate gathering.

Hot Commodity (formerly known as No-Nick-Named Friend) came early to assist with any preparations. By that time, I had made meat patties out of a butt-load of ground beef. You know the kind, it comes in a big tube. I asked Brother if he would go fire up the grill because he's handy like that. Brother disappears, only to return minutes later to announce that my propane tank is empty.


So, H.C. and myself go to 7-11 and exchange tanks. We drive back to my house. Brother fires up the grill. The grill burns hot, so I turned it down to it's lowest setting. Wait. When I am confident the grill is ready, I put the patties on.

Funny thing about gas grills. Each one is snowflakes. I knew my old grill well enough, and I could cook anything on it with delicious and flavorful results. Then came big, shiny grill, courtesy of Mr. Recommendation. Brother has used it more than I have, I've only cooked on it twice, and it was just steaks. I really don't know this grill. It's a stranger to me. When I approach it, I swear it recoils like a scared dog.

Not even five minutes later, I open the lid and a wave of fire shoots out the grill. I immediately check my eyebrows because I am certain they have just burned off my face. The hamburgers, once big patties of red, ground beefy goodness, are now little black meatballs. They are also on fire.

Brother comes out and makes fun of the meatballs. I'm pissed. The lowest setting on the grill, and it torches my hamburgers. Ever. Single. One. They are not even remotely edible. I can't just serve hot dogs at my bbq, so I need to find replacement burgers, and fast.

So, H.C. and myself go to Hy-Vee and buy some of their pre-formed hamburger patties from the meat counter, but not before laughing at the guy at the meat counter for dropping his frozen sausage. (Don't you just hate it when your sausage slips out of your hand?~H.C.)

When we return, most of my guests have arrived. A platter with the charred burgers sit on my counter. So, naturally everyone has to put in their smartass remarks. I give Brother the replacement burgers, and goes to work cooking them on the grill that apparently hates me. It loves Brother. It hates me.

Aside from the hamburger incident, the gathering was a good one. No one barfed in my rock garden, or anywhere else around the house. Everyone loved on Hank, who was just eating it up. Our new unit educator showed up, and she turned out to be hilarious, and a fine addition to our floor. Brother and H.C. made out (because they are dating). And the police were not called.

A successful gathering. Can't wait for the next one. I will try to befriend the grill before then.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008


I drove all the way to work today because I am on an interview committee and we are interviewing nurses for a new leadership-type position that just opened. I did not apply for it. It's day shift, and I am not that crazy. Yet.

So I get all the way there, and Bosshole tells me the interviews are tomorrow. Last night at the AHA fundraiser dinner, he told me it was today. So, what's it going to be?? He brought up an email he sent two weeks ago that said Wednesday. I'm such a botard.

It wasn't a completely wasted trip, I got an earful of hot gossip, not to mention a new coffee mug in honor of Nurses Week.

Yes, it's Nurses Week. I like roses, imported chocolate, and Starbucks. Plan accordingly.

I came home, decided to mow the lawn....regretted mowing the lawn when I was done. I have officially decided that Brother gets the mowing job now, in addition to trash duty. To his credit, he did sweep and mop the living room this weekend. He's quite handy, and he surprises me from time to time.

Tomorrow night, I'm hosting a small bbq in honor of Tweener finishing nursing school. Just a handful of nurses will be coming. I'm sure it won't escalate to birthday proportions. Just nurses, burgers, and hot dogs. Oh yes, that karaoke machine also.

Right now, I'm kind of tired, so I think I will take a nap. Tonight, I will finish cleaning the house, and make a late night trip to the grocery store.

More later when life starts getting interesting again.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Monday's Musings

I went to see the doctor this morning to discuss the MRI findings. Of course, I knew the findings because I took it upon myself to look up the results at work. It's my own medical record, so I can access it all I want.

At any rate, I have significant cartilage tears, and what the doctor calls "a funny looking ACL". I could go home and think about when I want surgery. I declined the thinking and asked for it to be scheduled immediately.

This living with pain and not being able to do anything fun is a bunch of bullshit. Let's get this fixed already!!

So, I am scheduled for knee surgery number five at the end of this month. It's only a scope, but I'm hinging my hopes on the simplest of procedures. I don't want that other surgery he was talking about.

On my way home, I called Indy to commiserate, and he didn't recognize me on the phone. Instead, calling me someone else's name, or rather, pet name. He blamed it on Ambien. I called bullshit on the lame Ambien excuse.

Me: Who's Princess??
Indy: It's not important.

I hung up on him after he told me I needed take a chill pill. A Monday, another scheduled knee surgery that is going to set me back three weeks, and a guy for who can't even come close to being honest with me because he's a chicken shit.

It's shaping up to be a stellar week. Thank God for pain meds.

Seven Deadly Sins

Who did you last get angry with? Indy...but it was short-lived
What is your weapon of choice? boat oar
Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? Yes, and I have.
How about the same sex? Absolutely. Fair warning: I punch like a boy. No hair pulling for me!
Who was the last person who got really angry at you? Indy...I seem to notice a pattern emerging
What is your pet peeve? people who don't try
Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily? I have inherited my father's ability to carry a fantastic grudge for infinity.

What is one thing you're suppose to do daily that you haven't? go to the gym
What is the latest you've ever woken up? 7pm
Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't? My stepdad
What is the last lame excuse that you made? The gel isn't working!
Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through? Yes, and I drooled on myself out of sheer boredom.
How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock this morning? It was Sunday afternoon, and I hit it four times.

What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice? Venti iced white mocha with extra espresso and a shot of almond. Almost $5
Are you a meat eater? I loves the meat.
What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event? Countless shots of tequila on a beach in Costa Maya. Nothing happened. I didn't even get so much as a buzz. Mom on the other hand...
Are you comfortable with your drinking and eating habits? No...but that's a work in progress.
Do you enjoy candy and sweets? Not as much as I used to
Which do you prefer: sweets, salty foods or spicy foods? Some spice
Have you ever looked at a small house pet or child and thought, "lunch"?

How many credit cards do you own? 2
If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it? Make more with it and travel
Would you rather be rich or famous? Rich
Would you accept a boring job if it meant that you would make megabucks? Define boring...I can make anything fun.

What's one thing that you have done that you're most proud of? Bought a house.
What's one thing you have done that your parents are most proud of? Everything
What thing would you like to accomplish late in your life? Retire in the Caribbean.
Do you get annoyed by coming in second place? No...I usually don't care.
Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors? No
Have you ever cheated to get a better score? Maybe...
What did you do today that you're proud of? Came to work without calling in.

How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies, family, strippers, locker rooms)? It didn't mention anything about my I would say hundreds.
How many people have seen you naked (not counting physicians, doctors, family, locker rooms, or when you were a young child)? Considerably less, and that's the way I like it.
Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a person of your chosen sex during a normal conversation? Meat grazing? Guilty!
What is your favorite body part of a person of your gender choice? hands and neck
Have you ever had sexual encounters (including kissing/making out) with multiple persons? Just kissing, just once, and I'm not discussing it further.
Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute? Not that I am aware of.

What item of your friends would you most want to have for your own? Smo's hot tub.
Who would you want to go on "Trading Spaces" with? My mom.
If you could be anyone who existed in the world, who would you be? Angelina Jolie.
Have you ever been cheated on? sucks.
Have you ever wished you had a physical feature different from your own? I wish I had a smaller body.
What inborn trait do you see in others that you wish you had for yourself? Those people who are always lucky.
What deadly sin...Do you do the most often?Lust
Do you do the least often?Envy
Is your favorite to act on?Lust, but I don't act on it very often, if ever.

Tagged: Anyone else who wants to do this...

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Friday Feast: Under the Wire Edition

What was your favorite cartoon when you were a child?
-The Simpsons

Pretend you are about to get a new pet. Which animal would you pick, and what would you name it?
-A Munchkin cat. Regular sized body, short stubby legs. The wiener dogs of Catdom.

On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how much do you enjoy getting all dressed up for a special occasion?
-Depends on the occasion. On formal nights, I love to get dressed up to the nines. It's a big difference from wearing scrubs.

Main Course
What kind of music do you listen to while you drive?
-Whatever is on my ipod...which is a wide array of music.

When was the last time you bought a clock? And in which room did you put it?
-Last year in August. It was an alarm clock for Brother's room.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

One Man's Junk Is Another Man's Treasure

I had a roomie once, who was black, and she insisted that one of the biggest differences between black people and white people was that black people would never buy other people's crap at yard sales.

I disagreed. I pointed out the owners of one McMansion who were hosting a yard sale, were indeed, African American. She pointed out that while the owners were black, everyone who visited their garage sale to buy their unwanted stuff, was white.

Whatever. No one can turn down a bargain. I don't care what color you are. It's like trick or treating for grown-ups.

Now, some people do have attitude against garage sales. I'm not one of those people. In my younger years, Mom and I used to get up BEFORE the butt-crack of dawn on a Saturday, and drive around town looking for the best bargain of the day. It was almost a sport. Get up too late, and all the good stuff is gone, and you are left picking over fake flowers, baby clothes, and 8-track tapes.

Today, the sprawling metropolis of Gardner had their city wide garage sale. Indy was also among the masses who was featuring a sale from their garage. So, Mom and I decided to pay him a visit and see what else we could find.

Gardner was crawling with bargain hunters, particularly Indy's cookie-cutter JoCo subdivision. We stopped by his place first, where he say perched at a table, eating from the largest bag of peanuts I have ever seen. After scoping his offerings (peanuts not included), Mom and I moved along to other houses.

My day's take included some snowman Christmas dishes, a John Grisham book, a caddy to use when I grill out. a Galileo thermometer, and probably the best item: a karaoke machine (which will come in handy when I entertain). Mom scored some tomato cages, a purple princess tree for Mr. Recommendation's daughter, a dryer plug, and some other odds and ends.

There are a couple peeves I have with some folks who host garage sales. One, would be people who only set out five items. No one is going to stop if you only have five items, because if you expect someone to go to the trouble of parking their cars and actually getting out, you'd better make it worth the effort. If you have so few items, make nice with a neighbor and see if you can add your crap with theirs.

Second, there are the people who are extremely proud of their crap. Realistic people have garage sales to get rid of the mountains of crap they have accumulated, to make room for more crap they will acquire in the future. Other people have garage sales in an effort to make money. You can tell this because they price used things close to what they paid for it brand new. They are very proud of their junk, and it shows with their pricing. Guess what? You're not going to get retail for your used George Foreman grill.

Another peeve would be those people who obviously put no effort into preparation. They just put their crap out in piles and boxes. Instead of any sort of organized sale, it looks like the garage took a binge, and then barfed it's contents all over the driveway.

You can always count on finding the same things at garage sales: barely used exercise equipment, odds and ends that were new in the 70's, and baby crap. If I had a baby, I could clean house...but I don't have a baby, so I'm not interested in the tens of thousands of car seats, as far as the eye can see.

At one point, I'm gimping down the sidewalk, relishing the purchase of something I will later think is the most retarded purchase ever, and I stumble over driveway, coming down hard on the bad wheel. Exquisite pain shot up my right leg and I let loose a string of profanities that would make Eddie Murphy blush. Bargain hunting was most decidedly over at that point. It wasn't until I got home and slammed my finger in a window, did I forget all about my knee pain.

I've been inspired by the garage sales to go and start preparing for my own. I have a ton of crap, as does Mom and Mr. Recommendation. We have decided to have our garage sales at the same time. If there is nothing better than a big garage sale, it's two big garage sales right next to each other.

And not one baby sock in sight!

Hank the Tank: 12 weeks

Hank is growing by leaps and bounds. I swear, he goes into his kennel at night, and comes out five pounds heavier in the morning.Sam keeps busy trying to establish his Alpha-ness over Hank. He only has a couple more months of this as Hank will outweigh him. As of now, Sam only has fifteen pounds on Hank.Hank's favorite place to hang out and chill is currently under the dining room table. When it is time for bed, I have to crawl under the table and pull him out as we have not learned the "pen up" command yet. However, we are working on that.Hank, like most any teenage boy, is little body, but all legs and feet. He's unbalanced and uncoordinated and falls over himself with little encouragement, or just a slight draft.Hank still has some of his puppy features, but he's starting to emerge true to his breed. He still has puppy breath, unless he's gotten into something disgusting. He's now started to drool, especially after eating. He'll eat non-stop if allowed. And, instead of cute puppy turds, his poops are now starting to resemble that of an ottoman. Some Saint Bernards tend to run on the small side. I get the feeling that is not going to be the case for this guy. If this is his paw at twelve weeks, I can't imagine how big they are going to be fully grown. Hank still likes to play, especially with Sam. He is very inquisitive of his environment. This lands him in hot water all the time. The rest of the time, you can usually find him sleeping.Overall, a nice addition to the house. Now, if he would just fall in line with the housebreaking.

Boat Update

I put the boat up for grabs on Craigslist, and so far, I've had three nibbles of interest. One almost doesn't count.

On my ad, I did say I would consider a trade for personal water craft. So, interested party number one says he is interested in trading his wave runner for my boat. I've seen pics of the PWC. Not bad.

Second interested party, is just interested in maybe buying it. I will speak to them on Monday.

Third party, is interested in buying the boat, but wants to know if I will take payments. WTF?? I don't even take payments from family members, much less strangers I don't know. I sent a kind reply...I'm only accepting cash or cashiers check for the full agreed purchase price. Sorry...thanks for the interest.

My name's Heather. Not Bank. It took me years to get this notion through to Redneck Brother.

Friday, May 02, 2008

I Spoke Too Soon

I awoke to the sound of a train at 1:30 this morning. Only it wasn't a train. It was another storm that meteorologists in the area, while jerking off over all the damage, can't decide if it was a tornado, or a "microburst".

Brother and I were discussing the fact that we had never even heard of a microburst until our grownup years. Just another new thing added in the quest to pussify America.

At any rate, my neighborhood sustained no damage, just leaves blown out of trees. Down the road, a gas station had it's roof blown off. A couple trees knocked over. For the most part, everyone is okay.

The first storm was the huff. The second one was the puff. I stand corrected.

The Calm After the Storm

The sirens were very loud. Probably because they are not far from my house.

The alleged tornado...MILES away.

This storm was all huff and no puff. Kind of like most of the men I know.

I stayed up and watched Sixteen Candles. Still a great movie!

All this excitement has worn me out. I'm going to bed.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Thursday Blather

Today, I had to go have an MRI on my knee. I've had an MRI before, so I knew what to expect. Fortunately, I'm not one of those people who are claustrophobic.

I sat in that little tube for an hour, with only my head poking out. MRI's have gotten a lot more quiet, but they are still loud. I asked for ear plugs, and at some point, I dozed off.

Afterwards, I went and had dinner with Red, who has returned to KC from her Arizona adventures, only to decide to return this weekend. To be fair, she only came back to see if things between her and her boyfriend would work out. It only took 3 days. Most couples I know drag it out for months before they throw in the towel.

So, Red is leaving, and I am sad. My work buddy gone, and I won't be getting that sweet referral bonus they give for recruiting nurses. Looks like I'll have to find another sucker, I mean, nurse.

While we were in the restaurant, news stations are going apeshit about the storm. Looking out the window, we only see that green cast that comes before a house is deposited on some unsuspecting witch. As we were leaving the restaurant to our respective cars, the sirens started blaring. I hauled ass out of there.

I made it home without incident, but making sure I hit every single red light from Fairway to Raytown.

And now the sirens are going off here. Shit. I'll be back later.