Monday's Musings

I had a relatively good weekend. Crazy Nurse put on the Weekend Psycho Show, which oddly enough, puts everyone else in a chipper mood. Maybe seeing Crazy Nurse delve further into a mental breakdown sort of puts things in perspective in our own lives.

Nah! Who am I kidding? We just feel a sense of justice because karma is biting her in the ass for being a pain in ours.

With the arrival of my tax refund, I felt like buying something fun. Bills all caught up, and I hadn't made a frivolous purchase in a while. So, I bought Guitar Hero: Aerosmith Edition. Brother and I will be busting it out when he wakes up this afternoon.

And I also bought the first book of Stephanie Meyers' series. I initially turned my nose up because I figured it to be a teenage-type book. And I hate all things that have to do with teenagers. However, B-Ram started reading it and gave positive reviews. I turned my nose up at Harry Potter initially because I dismissed it as kiddie stuff, and look how much I liked that series. Anything has to be an improvement from that dork who wrote about dragons.

My vacation countdown is down to two months. Brother will be left to his own devices in my house. Lord only knows what's going to happen. I plan on having all my bathroom materials purchased so Mr. Recommendation can work on it while I'm gone.

If anyone is thinking about stopping by Casa de H-Train to pick up Guitar Hero at a five-finger discount while I'm gone, know that Brother has guns.

He's a very good shot.

He will not hesitate to pop a cap in your ass.

But not before he lets Hank rape you first.

I'm thinking about purchasing a laptop this week, but I need to figure out how to set up wireless crap at home. I think New Guy could help in this department. Not to mention my computer runs like a big turd and needs some sort of intervention.

Overall, a good weekend. No one died. I got cool stuff. And I have a good reason for New Guy to come over to my house. The only hiccup was that I dropped colorful language in front of a priest. Loudly.

Oops.

But for now, I'm going to bed. Happy Monday, biatches!!

Another Outrage!

And it has nothing to do with politics, if you can believe that!

I am a child of the 80's. I had big, permed hair. I wore the shaker sweaters. The laceless canvas sneakers. The popped collars. If your toes were not purple, then you were not pegging your jeans right.

Ahhh...back in the day where neon colors ruled and Kirk Cameron was a god.

I wandered over to another unit recently, and a nurse had brought her school work with her in the form of a Trapper Keeper. I delighted in the sight of the Trapper Keeper. In the 80's, EVERYONE had a Trapper Keeper. And you had to buy the 80's psychedelic folders that went inside. One folder for every subject.

My Trapper was orange. My folders were awesome, but I will point out that I never once owned a New Kids on the Block folder.

Trapper Keepers. The bane of existence for every teacher who taught during those colorful Breakfast Club times. They cringed every time one was opened, the sound of velcro being ripped apart filled the air. Rip! Rip! Rip!

Eventually, some schools banned them. The Trapper Keeper fell out of favor and was banished to the same place Swatch Watches went.

Until now.

I clapped my hands and cheered as my eyes hungrily looked upon the new and improved Trapper Keeper. Waves of nostalgia washed over me. Until I opened it.

No rip.

Instead of the distinct and comforting sound of the opening of the Trapper Keeper, there was silence. Those bastards replaced the velcro with a magnet. A silent magnet!!

Bullshit!!! I hate to think of what they are going to fuck up next!!

Save Us Not From Idiots

If I see another video of Sarah Palin speaking, and robbing me of intelligence points, I swear, I'm going to stab my ears with sharpened pencils. Seriously, I cringe to the point that everyone around me thinks I'm having a seizure. It's so bad, I almost need a translator of stupid to tell me what she just said. How hard did Katie Couric have to work to keep from breaking down into hysterical laughter during that interview?

This was the best the Republican party could serve up?? Jeebus! She makes Dan Quayle look like Stephen Hawking.

Yes, I get why so many people like her. "She's just like us. She's just like you and me!!!"

That's not a compliment. The only thing we have in common is that we both have vaginas. That's it.

She reminds me of that girl from South Carolina that came off sounding like a bleach blond botard at the Miss Teen USA pageant.

Again. THIS was the best the McCain camp could do????

I've been thinking long and hard about this. And I have decided that this all must be part of McCain's master plan to throw the election. There's really no other explanation. He hates George Bush SO MUCH that he found the World's Dumbest Politician and selected her to be his running mate. Then, he goes and "suspends" his campaign. Pisses off Letterman. Then goes around sounding like he has Alzheimers. It's all part of his master plan. In the end, he'll ride off to Arizona on his private jet, laughing in sadistic glee, but not before sending Obama one of those congratulatory cookie bouquets.

Of course, I will be tuning in for the VP debates. Biden is an asshole, so it should be fun to watch. We could even make a drinking game out of it. Who's game? VP debate watching party at my house. BYOB.

But please don't shoot at the television.

Politics and Strange Bedpans*

I've been reading as much as I can on this bailout. To the point of obsession, really.

Sometimes, when I'm with a patient that is not doing well, I get this dull feeling in the bottom of my stomach, that grows into this big chunk of dread. Minutes later, the patient crashes and I'm in a code blue situation.

Well...I'm feeling this same sense of dread whenever I think of this bailout plan. It has nothing to do with partisan politics, and everything to do with fueling government corruption. Call me a paranoid conspiracy theorist, but I can't help it.

Redneck Brother is notorious for being bad with money. So much that he has faced the threat of foreclosure on more than one occasion. Had utilities turned off and on. Switched phone numbers countless times. I love my brother dearly, but he sucks with money. Faced with a $100 bill, and he has only $75 to pay on it, instead of sending what he has, he just shrugs his shoulders, and blows the $75 on something stupid...like a ping pong table.

More to the point, he is already in debt to me and Mother for a grand. Each. Mom and I figure we will see money repaid when, oh say, hell freezes over.

So let's say that Redneck Brother is Wall Street and Treasury Secretary Paulson. Mother and myself are the taxpayers. Redneck Brother comes to us telling us that the biggest financial disaster ever to his hit family is imminent. They are going to lose everything, and need help to the tune of $500,000. Right away!!!

Oh...but we can't be privy to how he uses the money. Not now, not ever. And if we ever do find out that he blew the money on things other than saving his ass (like a pop-up camper), he cannot be held accountable for it. Even though it is our hard earned money, we have no say in how it's to be spent. Oh yeah, there's no guarantee that this is going to work either because history has shown that RB is an idiot when it comes to money. Even though all the signs pointed to this big financial crisis, he never once saw it coming and he was even mostly responsible for it.

Sound asinine?

Sounds like the bailout plan to me. In a nutshell.

I don't claim to be a financial genius. If I were, I'd be a retired millionaire right now. However, when the government wants a blank check from John Q. Taxpayer to the tune of $700 BILLION, no questions asked, I tend to take notice. I work too hard, and don't get paid nearly enough for what I do, to not care where that money goes and how it's going to be used.

I guess a salary cap for the CEO's sounds nice, but if the NFL has figured out a way to go around the salary cap, it won't be too hard for financial asshats who think they are smarter than most Americans to siphon more money so they can afford authentic Greek columns for their mistresses birthday parties.

If they insist on taking $700 Billion from taxpayers, shouldn't the taxpayers have a vote as to whether we want it or not? Where were these big bailout plans when families were losing their homes right and left? If this bailout is passed, what is Congress going to do to help us for helping them? Tit for tat? Unlikely.

I guess when the big businesses are in danger of losing everything, only then does the government take notice.

Assholes. All of them. And can I just say that in listening to Bush talk about this crisis, I'm led to believe that our nation's leader is mentally retarded??

In conclusion, there are a lot of better ideas being floated around instead of this bailout that smacks of socialism. I think the bailout is a knee-jerk reaction, and ultimately, I don't think is going to work. Gubment wants to prevent a recession. Guess what, Sunny Jim, we're in one now.

So, shall you bring your code cart, or shall I??

*FTFY

Really???

Clay Aiken has come out of the closet. Finally.

I'm shocked. SHOCKED!! I never suspected, not in a million years, that he preferred the sausage to the taco.

I'm actually more shocked that this is making headlines. Haven't we known about his gayness for, oh, since he first sang on American Idol????

He's not called Clay Gayken for nothing.

Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go back to reading more important news.

What?!?!?!

So let me get this straight...

An Amber alert is issued for an Independence woman who took off with her kids. Four of them, ages 7-14.

That's not the part that baffles me.

No. Mom of the Year has done this before. Four times before to be exact. Even taking them across state lines to New Mexico and Oregon. It's not like she just took them across the border into Kansas for a Runza in Lawrence!!!

(Mmmm...it's been years since I've had a Runza...not since my high school days. I do come from Nebraska, you know.)

She does not have custody of her kids. The kids (from the sounds of it) are in foster homes. Considering that our judicial system is retarded when it comes to giving kids back to unfit parents, this woman had to have been a major fuck up.

Considering that she's The Craptastic Mom of the Year, and that she has absconded with the children on four occasions prior to this, the DFS still agreed to unsupervised, overnight visits with her children.

The magnitude of stupidity is enough to make me go blind. Everything is already starting to get all blurry.

So, I award the Ray Nagin Dumbass Award to the entire Independence Division of Family Services. Apparently, you can have the IQ of potato salad and still work for the government*.


(*Just ask Sarah Palin...)

Bastard Chocolate?

Quite a few years ago, a friend and I were discussing chocolate, and how she didn't care for American chocolate as it tasted waxy. A short while later, I was actually eating some chocolate that I realized she was right.

Then, I sampled some chocolate that came from our friends across the pond. I was instantly smitten. I'd be even more so if they didn't insist on putting hazelnuts in everything. I don't like hazelnuts. They are like the onions of Europe.

I recently read a news story about how Hershey (and other U.S. companies that make chocolate) has switched creamy cocoa butter for veggie oil (among other types of oil) in their chocolate confections. This certainly explained the waxy feeling of American chocolate. I was a little annoyed at that tricky chocolately goodness wording the companies slyly used so consumers wouldn't know the difference.

Hell, if I wanted veggie oil, I'd drink it straight out of the bottle. Although the mere thought of doing it is disgusting.

So, screw you, crappy American producers of Soylent Brown. I'm only eating imported chocolate from now on. Sure, I'll pay more for it, but there are some things that are worth it.

Never, EVER come between a woman and her chocolate.

Chef H-Train, Coming At Ya!

This week, I made feijoada. I got the recipe from my friend, RCH, who got the recipe from someone else (the story is a bit fuzzy to my memory...it may have something to do with a return missionary).

For those who don't know of this dish, it's a simple dish that hails from South America. Brazil claims it as their national dish. You take different kinds of pork: bacon, smoked sausage, pork tenderloin, etc, and cook it in a pot. Traditional preparation calls for a clay pot, but I don't have a clay pot, and my metal pots have yet to fail me...so suck it, feijoada purists.

You cook it in a pot, add black beans, some bay leaves, and I like to add some garlic because I like garlic. There are variations as to the seasonings added, so I guess it's more about personal preference. Some people add chili peppers, some add onions. ~shudder~

You serve it with rice.

Bottom line = tasty.

I had Mom and Mr. Recommendation over for dinner. Mom reveals to me that Mr. Recommendation doesn't like black beans. I tell him to pick the beans out. He tries the dish, beans and all, and decides that in this case, black beans aren't so bad. It just goes to show two things:

- I am a bitchin' cook.
- Bacon makes everything better.

Before I made this, Mom and I went to the store because I needed beans. I cheat and use the canned stuff. I don't have patience for raw beans. As I was grabbing multiple cans of beans, an elderly gentleman stopped and asked me how I cook the beans.

So, I explained the recipe for feijoada. Different types of pork, plus beans, plus seasonings. The guy got stuck on the pork. He pointed to his cart where sat an industrial sized package of pork chops. I said while that was good, you should add some other different types of pork (or beef). I don't claim to be an authority of feijoada, but I do know about my personal experiences with the recipe, what worked and what fell flat.

He kept referring to his ginormous box-o-chops. He didn't want to add anything else. Not even bacon. FOR GODSAKES, AT LEAST ADD THE BACON!!

After thanking me (his mind made up about using only 50lbs of pork chops and no bacon), we went our separate ways. I leaned in to Mom.

"That guy is going to go home and fuck up the recipe and blame me for it."

Oh well.

I made tons of the stuff. So, guess what I will be taking to work for lunch...all weekend long.

In conclusion, if you are looking for something new and exciting to serve for dinner, make this dish. It will be a tasty hit, and you can can feel good knowing you are proficient at making exotic, ethnic food.

(Yes, I know this is a boring post. But life is boring right now. Be patient, I should be getting crapped on shortly.)

Arrrggghhhh!!!!

My pirate name is:

Iron Ethel Kidd

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. Even though you're not always the traditional swaggering gallant, your steadiness and planning make you a fine, reliable pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Hump Day Blather

So, it's early Thursday morning. I'm still running on Wednesday's steam. Sue me.

Last night, I let the dogs out. I swear, they will sit on the deck when I let them outside, but the second they are in the house, they start play-fighting. Hank is roughly the size of my car. And having a furry PT cruiser rough-housing in the living room is no good. His tail alone has enough power to knock over various vases, decorative candles, and glasses of whatever beverage you happen to be drinking at the time.

So, I let the dogs out for a while, and went to let them in. Sam came in readily, Hank was sitting out in the grass playing with a stuffed animal. Then, it occurred to me that Hank didn't have any stuffed animals. I shrieked when I realized it was a opossum that he was munching on. I called to Hank, who left his furry friend to come to the house, realized he forgot his friend, turned to go back for it, until I started jumping up and down on the deck, ordering him inside. Dejected, he went inside the house without his opossum.

Brother was at work, so I called Mom and told her about Hank's catch, and would Mr. Recommendation come and get rid of it?? I don't touch dead animals. Dead people, sure, but not animals. I had a guinea pig that died once, and I called a friend over to come take it out of it's cage.

So, Mom and Mr. Recommendation come over because Mom wants to see the dead opossum. Only, it's not dead. It's still alive, but barely. It's kind of hard to sustain life when you've been chewed on by an 8 month Saint Bernard. Mr. Recommendation says it's okay for me to touch it because it's not dead yet.

Everyone's a smartass, I swear.

Mr. Recommendation disposes of the grotesque critter, covered in blood and poop because it soiled itself (I would too if I was tiny and saw Hank's jowels coming at me). The damn thing must have lived under my deck, which explains why the dogs have been interested in the goings-on under the deck for the past week or so. This makes the second opossum caught, not to mention the large raccoon that Brother scared out this summer. I must have Jack Hannah's Wild Kingdom living under there (not to be confused with Heather's Adventure Kingdom, which still has no visitors...in case you were wondering).

Brother was proud of Hank. Sam's getting a complex because he's the only dog to have no managed to catch anything. That's okay. I think Sam is gay. But that's okay. I'll love him no matter what he decides to hump.

My computer is diving further into the land of Suckville. It crashes more times than Lindsay Lohan. I really need to invest in another computer, but I hate parting with money, unless it involves me being in the Caribbean.

Incidentally, my next cruise is coming up. I've got my air, my rental car, my cabin assignment. I still need to find a hotel. I need this vacation.

I really, REALLY need this vacation.

I Spy With My Little Eye

Today I went out to order another set of eyeglasses. I have a vision plan, and they pay for a new set of frames every two years. My current eye glasses are still in great shape, but I just wanted something new. Not to mention I can just leave a pair at work and carry the other set with me.

So, I drove up to God's Country (aka Platte County) to The Eye Center of Parkville. I bought my last pair from them, liked their service, not to mention that they already had all my info on file and I hate the paperwork that comes with switching.

There was one woman, sitting at the little station where you actually put in your order. She had brown hair, and predictably, she was trying on those glasses that Sarah Palin wears. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't until this woman pulled her hair back into the Sarah-Palin-School-Marm style, that I actually threw up in my mouth a little.

It doesn't say a whole lot about you as a candidate when the only "good" thing you contribute is a fashion trend for bored housewives everywhere. Really, the people over on Fox news masturbate over her eyeglasses every chance they get. I've seen it.

IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO FIND ANOTHER RUNNING MATE, JOHN!!!

Anyhoo, I was paired with a Happy Helperton who went around with me trying on various frames. That's how it works. You get your own person to help you pick out frames. Sort of like a personal shopper, only she tells you if the frames look bad on your face. I have a particular liking for frames that only have the top part of the lenses rimmed. This enables me to wear my glasses further down my nose. I can still read, but I can also look up at you over the top and give you the Crabby Nurse Look. Multi-functional!!

After trying on a dozen or so pairs of frames, I finally settled on a pair. Still the half-rims, but a little trendy, but not so much that I look like I stole them from an old school teacher from the 40's. They are made by some company called Lafont. I know this because 3 people at the store cooed about it.

"Ooooh. These are made in France. Everything they make comes from France. Including the screws!!"

Whatever. Just as long as I can see what I'm reading, and I don't look like a complete dork. Or Sarah Palin.

Happy Black Monday!!

I shall spend the remainder of the day watching my retirement go down the toilet.

Nurse Follies: Dealing With Assholes

Why, oh why, can't I just have a job where everyone is nice and grateful that you are trying to keep their loved ones from, oh, DYING!?! Noooo, instead I get folks who make the mistake they are some sort of 5-star hotel, with narcotics! That's what happens to these designers that think making hospitals look more "homey" is a good thing. It should never be this way. Patients should always remember they are in a hospital, and the threat of a foley or milk of molasses enema is ALWAYS PRESENT.

One patient brags that they sued a hospital and got a big, fat settlement. Then, they proceed to sabotage their care...like they are trying to set themselves up for another lawsuit. It probably wasn't a good idea to brag about their little windfall to the nursing staff and the big boat you purchased with it, because then the staff charted every little thing they do from refusing care, noncompliance, and being an overall asshat. Brownie points earned when they step off the unit to go smoke in the hallway. I fly down the hall and read him the riot act, and he denies doing it (even though we had proof), and goes on to blame "some black lady". Because apparently only black people have little regard for rules. This is the same guy who claims various nurses tell him it's okay to do things he's not supposed to be doing, and these things are such things that only a nurse should be doing, and no nurse in their right mind would ever tell a patient to do these things. Asshole. I wanted to punch him in the crotch. Even his wife thought he was being a colossal prick, but she never said anything. Hell, he probably beats his wife at home. Douchebag.

Second asshole of the weekend is the family member who's Precious Snowflake is my patient. This is the type of scenario where self-entitlement runs high, nurses don't know what they are doing, and everything Precious Snowflake says is gospel. If Precious Snowflake doesn't get her way, she calls Mommy Dearest IMMEDIATELY, who in turns calls the nurse and calls them incompetent. As an added bonus, Precious Snowflake embellishes the story for more dramatic effect, and Mommy Dearest believes her. Precious Snowflake is also a drug-seeking crack head.

Mommy Dearest: You told Precious Snowflake she was going to die!!
Me: I said no such thing, I assure you. I would never tell a patient that. (I save that bit of cheerful news for doctors to share.)
Mommy Dearest: Precious Snowflake also said that she could get brain damage from not wearing her oxygen.
Me: I did tell her that by not wearing her much needed oxygen, she deprives the brain and it can cause damage. It's imperative that she wear it at all times. I cannot stress this enough. I wouldn't be doing my job, if I didn't.
Mommy Dearest: Why did you have to tell her that??? You didn't have to tell her that!!
Me: Uhhh...yes, I did.

We love these patients because they will inevitably "fire" the incompetent nurse in question. (And by incompetence, I mean those who do not willingly and readily put lips to ass.) For a patient to "fire" a nurse simply means the nurse will not have to care for this patient anymore, but rather their care is assigned to another poor, unfortunate nurse. Being "fired" is not generally a bad thing. It's actually a blessing that upsets only the unlucky nurse that has to assume care for this patient. And Bosshole who usually has to go in the room to be diplomatic and listen to the unreasonable rantings of a botard.

Fire away, people. Fire away!!

There have been a few times where patients have "fired" most every staff member they have come in contact with. You'd think that having someone tell you that there is no nurse to care for you because you have fired them all would impose some sort of self-reflection period where they realize that the problem isn't with the nurses. That maybe perhaps they are the problem? HAH! We'll see John McCain wearing his wife's underwear before that happens.

I seldom lose my temper at work, but I do come across situations where the only thing I can do is walk out of the room to prevent myself from delivering "anterior pillow therapy". There are some people out there who think very little of nurses, and truly feel that we are paid to stand there and take verbal abuse as part of our jobs. If you are lucky, they will even tell you so. Were do these asshats come from? Why do they think the way they do?

No where in nursing school was I taught the appropriate posture for sucking up. Knee pads optional.

My job is to save your ass.

Not kiss it.

Thursday Blather

I finally got to see Dark Knight today. Woo hoo!

As for Heath actually deserving an Oscar for his role...I'm not really convinced. Yeah, he was good and brought a new way of looking at The Joker. Perhaps the Oscar buzz was merely a knee-jerk reaction to his death and Dark Knight being the last movie he was in before he died. Sucks that if they decide to recast his character, the new actor has a pretty tough act to follow.

Bale's Batman voice bothered me. Sometimes, he was difficult to understand.

I wasn't a big fan of the Rachel Dawes character. Glad to see she's toast. I don't care who played her, and who did it better.

Overall, a good movie. The special effects were pretty handy. Morgan Freeman, always an added bonus.

I forgot what today was until I saw a flag lowered to half-mast. I could expound on my feelings on 9/11, but I still find the subject mentally taxing. The A&E channel had a show that deconstructed the bombings of the Twin Towers and events going on inside before they collapsed. I started to watch it, but had to change the channel. I haven't watched Flight 93 either. I don't ever plan to.

Brother got his free cd's in the mail of the new Metallica album. He got a free disc for each ticket bought, so I also have my own copy. The house is now filled with sounds of Hatfield's guitar and vocals. A good cd, it reminds me of their old stuff. Thankfully, it's better than St. Anger.

Nothing more to report. Actually, I do have other stuff going on in my life. I'm just not blogging about it. A girl still has to have some secrets.

Tuesday Blather

I spent Sunday night awake, even though I was sent home sick. I felt a little better Monday morning, and thought about going to the McCain rally-thingie anyway. Like I had anything better to do. I wanted to see if they would say anything interesting.

So, I gathered my camera and set off for Lees Summit, I left early because I figured there would be a lot of people. I left at 7am.

Perhaps I should have planned on getting there at 5am. Really. Did some of these people camp overnight to ensure a spot???

No where to park, and there were thousands of sheeple standing out in the rain. Thousands. A big line that started at the John Knox Village Pavilion, snaked around the parking lot, and extended all the way down the block, five people deep...at least. I knew that all these people were not going to be getting into the event, and I was right.

Remembering that I hate large groups of sheeple, even more so at political rallies, I said "Phuck it"and stopped by Starbucks before returning home. I noted the crappy morning commuters parked on the highway, and I was grateful I worked nights and didn't had to deal with that every morning, five days a week.

I was under the impression that the rally-thingie started at 8:30. No. The doors opened at 8:30, the rally-thingie started after 10. That means I would have been awake longer in the day than I had anticipated. Screw that! I went home and crawled into bed, where I slept blissfully for the remainder of the day.

Turns out, nothing interesting was said at the rally-thingie. Same "vote for me" crap, but mostly why you shouldn't vote for the other guy. Not to mention there was an overflow because not everyone could get in. Chances are pretty good I would have been cast in overflow. Bed sounded better.

I checked my voice mail (because I only check it once a week or something like that), and in my box was my very own personal invite to the rally-thingie. Whatever. They didn't even save me a parking spot. Overflow, my ass!

Bastards...

No More Fish!!!!

Sunday started out okay. Got up, got ready for work. Had some breaded tilapia I bought at Costco. Stopped by Starbucks to get my drink on.

During the drive to work, my stomach started cramping. I began to feel worse and worse and the closer I got to work. I also began burping up nasty fish taste.

I get to my floor, and I'm in full-blown sick mode. I immediately set up shop in the employee bathroom and proceed to pray to the porcelain goddess. It didn't help that the nasty fish taste made me hurl even more, popping blood vessels in and around my eyes.

Needless to say, I went home shortly after.

My stomach still feels crappy.

I threw out the rest of the fish. It will be a while before I look at fish again.

A Call to a Cause

Without dragging out my soapbox about the crappy state of our nation's health care system (I'll save that for another post), I'm going to post this link. This girl is a friend of Brother. Single Mom, no insurance, and with a crappy medical condition that I know firsthand that she will not survive unless she gets treatment.

You can read about her story on the site. While some might say that she caused the problems on her own, you have to give props to her for turning her life around. I've met her, she's a nice person. No child should have to lose their parent to something that can be cured.

So, go check it out. Besides a format for my bitching and venting, maybe some good will actually come out of this blog.

Almost Late

I usually get up at 4pm on nights I have to work. This affords me time to have something to eat, shower, and get ready for work at a leisurely pace. I leave my house a little after 6, stop by Starbucks for my evening beverage, then go to work.

Saturday, I woke up to the phone ringing the special little ring tone I have for Indy. This is so I know when to answer the phone, depending on if I am mad at him at the time. It was 5:25pm. I looked at the phone, and the clock, trying to figure out what was wrong with this picture.

For whatever reason, the alarm didn't sound. If he hadn't called, I would have just slept until work called, wondering why I hadn't shown up.

I showered and got ready for work in 20 minutes...complete with hair in a pleasing (and dry) configuration. A record!

So far, this weekend has been good and lousy. A half and half mix of patients and family members that remind me of the good things about being a nurse, and then the patients and family members that make me wish I was a teacher for the KCMSD instead.

Fr-EYE-day

Friday, I took Mom to her appointment with the retina specialist, who actually exhibited a personality. He's one of those old doctors who doesn't sugar-coat anything. You always know where you stand with him. He's kind of an ass, but you can't help but like him in that charming, cute way you like old people.

We drive all the way out to BFE, Kansas. Mom goes through this thing where they keep putting eye drops in her eyes every five minutes. After being there for 2 hours, one of the techs announces that the drug that they were going to use hadn't been delivered yet. This particular drug is something they don't carry on-hand at the office, and they have it delivered by the pharmacy, all drawn up in a syringe and ready to go. The mental giants at whatever pharmacy they use, just delivered an empty syringe. It took 45 minutes for pharmacy to get it right. I was thrilled.

I did not stay in the room while the doctor poked mom in the eyeball with a needle. I have a strong constitution, but I think that would have been pushing it. I just stayed out in the waiting room and listened to my ipod.

The good doctor came out and said everything went well, but it will be a couple of weeks before we know if was helpful or not. The Hurry-Up-And-Wait Game.

Gotta love it!

Meanwhile, I get to go see my retina specialist, aka Dr. Hottie With the Body, next week. As much as I bitch about how I hate the retinal exams, at least he's not jabbing needles into my eye.

Hump Day Blather

I watched the new show, Sons of Anarchy on Fox. I liked it. I will tune in again.

This afternoon, Brother busted into my room while I was napping and excitedly started yapping about the Metallica concert. I'll be going. Our seats are so close to the stage, Hatfield should be sweating on me. Just as long as they don't play anything from St. Anger.

I didn't watch the RNC, particularly because I couldn't stomach listening to Failin. She's against the right to chose, yet tells us that her daughter chose to keep the baby. What's good for the goose, isn't necessarily good for the gander. Apparently, choice is only afforded to you when you are running for public office. I don't consider myself a fem-nazi, and while I applaud McCain for selecting a female running mate, I really, REALLY find myself disliking this woman immensely. Everything about her screams "hypocrite". I can think of at least 10 women I like better for VP than her.

Go back to Alaska and eat a moose burger, you cow.

I have to wonder about the whole Palin family dynamic. I'm sure she was aware that her daughter's pregnancy would be trounced out for all the globe to see and speculate on. She had to have known that this would be a humiliating experience for her daughter when she accepted the VP nomination. So, do you think this could be a passive-aggressive way to heap shame upon her daughter for getting pregnant? Sarah Palin doesn't have to say a word to her daughter about how she's brought embarrassment to them all and tarnished the good family name...the media is taking care of it for her.

I feel bad for the daughter. Everyone makes mistakes, but to have them played out on such a public forum...I can't even fathom.

Meanwhile, my mother is going in for more eyeball fun this Friday, but all the way out in Shawnee. We're still in the land of not knowing anything for certain, and technically, she's legally blind in the left eye. Here's hoping for experimental medicine. Everyone, keep your fingers crossed.

I bought some cute new scrubs this week. Pants that fit and won't fall down whenever I put anything in the pockets! Included are brown scrubs, because everyone knows that brown is the new black. Or is it pink?

I just finished laundry, cleaning the kitchen, and taking a long, hot shower. Now, at 3am, I am ready for bed.

Good night, y'all!