Thursday, January 31, 2008
A ridiculously hot, verile man ravished my body all day, leaving my muscles achey, pain in the right places, and lips swollen, red, and chapped from all that kissing.
Wouldn't it be great if that actually happened?
Instead, y'all are going to have to settle for the truth. I puttered around the house, went to HyVee and bought a loaf of bread, and came home. My lips are red and chapped from licking my tasty gloss off while I was outside.
The first story was much more interesting to read, I'm sure. I mean, who wants to read about me buying a loaf of bread? And some Listerine. And a couple twice-baked potatoes.
That sound? Oh, that's probably Kant slapping her forehead. I don't know why the things I say still surprise her. She should be used to it by now.
I'm going to bed. Maybe I will have a pleasant dream about the first story, and not one about me at the grocery store.
Please note that the time is now 4:30 AM.
I started at 11 PM last night.
Tomorrow, I shall write the full body of my speech from the outline and power point I have created. So far, I feel okay with it...but that could be sleep deprivation talking.
I'm now going to bed.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I wasn't too impressed with this year's offerings. The only thing I liked was the oriental gong, which would have worked great in my bedroom (being all Asian and stuff), but then reality set in when I remembered that I really didn't have a good place to put it. What would I do with a gong anyway?? Smack it each time I went to bed alone? I'm sure Brother would eventually hide the gong because he would tire of hearing it so often.
At any rate, I hope Target goes back to the original formula next year.
Because the time has come to start the master bath remodel, I went to Lowes to find a new shower pan. The Lowes by my house didn't have any in stock, so I drove up north to that store, which did have one. I still had a little left on the old gift card, so I ended up only having to pay $40 for a new shower base. From there, I stopped by the store to pick up my prescriptions, pay my storage bill, then go back to my neck of the woods. As an afterthought, I stopped by Home Depot to peruse the tile offerings. I found a beige tile that I think will look good on the floor, smaller tiles for the shower with cool little colored accent tiles. Priced some of that stuff you put under the tile to make it heated and almost soiled myself because it was so expensive. Found some different colors that I could potentially paint the parts that don't get covered with tile. I'm getting pretty excited about the bathroom project. I decided to carry my Asian theme to the bathroom. It's going to be awesome when we are finished. I'll remember to post pictures.
Now, I am home, and time to get down to brass tacks on my presentation. I have mountains of notes, and a pretty good idea of the angle that I'm taking with my presentation. I anticipate being up for the rest of the night, at least until this power point is finished. I have a whole twenty minutes to speak, plus the dreaded five minute Q&A that follows.
However, I'm having an issue of a cramping nature...so I am going to have a pharmaceutical intervention, a hot shower, and then I will be ready to get to work.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
With me so far?
Quite a few months ago, my unit educator sent out this email asking if anyone would be willing to volunteer to help present at one of these hour-long inservices on a particular disease process that we see a lot of on my floor. Because I have a background in public speaking, a wizard at power point, and a momentary lapse in judgement, I volunteered. However, the stipulation was that the unit educator share in the responsibility.
Since that time, my unit educator has quit her job, and gone to work as a clinician in the pulmonary clinic...the very clinic that oversees patients with the very disease process that this inservice is about.
Still with me??
I emailed my former educator and asked if she was still going to help with the presentation, because she still works for the hospital, but in another department. She replies that she is unable to because the docs in her office prefer that their clinicians not present at the inservices. The moral of the story: Heather gets to present all by herself.
I haven't started on the power point. I only have a crude outline of what I am going to talk about. And I'm this close to pissing myself out of sheer nervousness.
The inservice is next Tuesday.
To make it even better, some asshole posted a flyer in the break room about it. My name is listed right under Dr. Prestigious as guest speaker...now the entire floor is making plans to come and listen.
Oh...I'm not nervous about speaking. I used to compete in speech and debate. Five points from making it to national competition once. Speaking in front of large groups is something I will have to get used to because I plan on finishing my nursing career in a teaching capacity.
No, what has my stomach in a knot is the audience. I'll be speaking to nurses who have been in practice years longer than me AND some doctors as well. Heather will be lecturing for doctors. And Heather will be lecturing for coworkers, some of whom I suspect would like to see me fall flat on my face.
And I have nothing to wear.
What in the hell was I thinking when I volunteered for this in the first place?!?!?!
Yesterday, I came home from work to see Mom and Mr. Recommendation sitting in the driveway of their soon-to-be house. It was Inspection Day...the inspection scheduled for 3pm, but they came early to wait for the utility people to show up and turn everything on. Utility people suck. They give you the "We'll be there between 7am and 4pm" like people have nothing better to do than wait for them to show up. Bastards.
An inspection wasn't required because the house is being sold as-is, but they wanted it to make sure it wasn't a money pit. I stayed up a little, but my need for sleep won out so I went to my own house and went to bed.
When I came to, it was 4 in the afternoon and the inspection was in full swing. The inspector being the same guy who did my house a little over a year ago. The guy is still ridiculously hot...and ridiculously married. Rats!! He did remember my name when he heard who was referring. I'd like to think it's because of my sweet ass, but it's probably more for my unusual last name...and maybe a little because of my sweet ass. You'd better believe that if he hadn't been married, we would have had a date by the end of this week. I guarantee it.
At any rate, the inspection goes off without a hitch. The inspector is so thorough, that if anyone in the house had hemorrhoids, he would have found those also. Most of his findings were cosmetic in nature, and nothing serious. Mom still worries because when he rattles off his findings, it sounds like a lot.
Of the house...a nice, raised ranch with a big Great Room with a cathedral ceiling...kind of like mine. Same parquet flooring. Same kind of drop-in oven like what's in my house. Probably even built by the same builder. We deduce that the previous occupants had moved in sometime in 2003...and hadn't cleaned the carpets the entire time they lived there. The previous occupants were also victims of either being color blind, or just having poor taste. In every room was a different color of carpet, and all colors being fugly and date back to the 80's. There's some weird wall paper in the kitchen-dining room that make you think of the Easter Bunny.
Most people recoil when I mention my mother is moving next door. They voice doubt at having to live so close to their parents. Really, it's not a big deal to me. I feel better about having her closer, especially since I know she's collapsed on occasion when no one was there to help. At least with her closer, I will be able to keep an eye on her. It pays to have a nurse living right next door to you. Not to mention I benefit because I know exactly who my neighbors are, instead of Tweakers who want to set up "kitchen" in the basement. It's win-win for everyone.
Today, I am going to go out in the frigid temps (I wish Mother Nature would make up her mind already) and visit a couple home improvement stores in search for a new shower pan. The time is upon us to start remodeling the master bathroom. Right now, all I can decide on is the shower pan. As far as tiles, the sink, the vanity, and the faucets go, the jury is still out.
Friday, January 25, 2008
(Hey, I bet you couldn't give an enema as good as I do...so no making fun of my computer skillz!)
Let me know in the comments box, or just drop me an email if you are interested in being helpful and flexing your html know-how. I promise to be easily impressed.
I pay in beer. And blog accolades.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Boy, no one saw that coming!
Actually, I'm not all that shocked. The KCMOSD is what we medical professionals like to call a train wreck. There's so many things wrong with it, you just don't know where to start to fix it.
I've always been suspicious of the KCMO school board itself. How many of the board members actually have kids who are in the system? Back in the day of growing up in smaller towns, the people who sat on the board were parents. If someone sat on the board didn't have kids, people just looked at them like "What the hell are you doing here??"
Maybe the state should step in and take over the district, just like they did in St. Louis. It would render the school board impotent (heh!) and maybe something would actually get accomplished, like oh, I don't know, the schools getting their accreditation back.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
For someone who really doesn't care for large crowds of people, I do love to people watch. This probably stems from my early church years when Kant and I would sit at church dances and make snarky remarks about the Mollies trying to dance like Britney Spears in an effort to snag them an E.C. (that's Eternal Companion for you gentiles).
At any rate, with the gym, people watching is either hit or miss, depending on when you go. Last night's workout was apparently Teen Night as gaggles of the pubescent bunch were roaming around the gym. None of them wearing body deodorant.
Tonight, there was no real theme really. Just an interesting mix of people. I could see them all from my perch. It was almost like one of those Mutual of Omaha shows about wild animals in their habitat.
In front of me is a guy, late teens or early twenties, that looks like Ron Howard before he lost his hair. He's pedaling on the recumbent bike, while flipping through channels. Thankfully, he turned off Who's the Biggerst Skanky Whore hosted by Bret Michaels' wig. Then, I smelled it. A fart so rank, I could feel the my nose hairs disintegrate. Glancing around, I deduced the noxious fumes emitted from Opie. I covered my face with my blue workout towel until the threat of oxygen deprivation passed. Just a word of advice, if you plan on blowing ass, please remove yourself to a place where people are not right behind you.
Opie got off the bike shortly afterward, gave me a sheepish grin, and left. Hopefully, it was to go check his shorts.
Meanwhile, two girls enter, both relatively young tanorexics with bleached blonde hair, full makeup, and fake hooters. Accompanying them was some dude that I suspect was their handler, manager, pimp...whatever. (I'm guessing they couldn't find their way to Gold's Gym?)
One girl had the word "pink" in glitter on her ass. I assumed that was her special way of advertising.
Paris 2.0 and 2.1 set up shop on the ab machines that are also in front of me, off to the right. From my vantage point, I can see down their little tank tops. So can everyone else. Nestled in the safe confines of their silicone, are their cell phones. They would do half-assed crunches, stop, whip out their phones for some texting, finish, put their phones back in their handy little holders, and the whole scene would reply itself over and over again. Maybe they were booking, ahem, dates for later. Isn't that something their handler should have taken care of?
Off to my left is a guy grunting and straining on another elliptical machine. I watch him out of the corner of my eye because he looks like he's going to keel over with a massive coronary. I take note of the defibrillator hanging by the front desk.
Some dude is working the weight machines, rocking the crusty denim jeans that look like he's been laying under a car all day. He catches my eye and smiles a big grin with missing teeth. I vomit in my mouth a little.
Then, there are your guys who practically live in the free weights section. Their arms and chests are so big, I'm tempted to go untie their shoes for entertainment. Guys that big can't bend over and reach their shoes because they are so ripped. Someone should tell them that hitting the juice will cause their penises to shrivel up. I'm just saying...
Just in case anyone was wondering, there were no Gorilla sightings.
So, now I am safe within the warm confines of my home. I will now retire for the night. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
One has to wonder just what kind of sex toys they took. The Two Foot Double Ended Pink Jelly Dong, perhaps?? Hope they remembered to grab the lube.
And then you have to wonder just what they plan on doing with them. Christmas presents??
Even more interesting, the thief was driving a minivan.
Hah! I didn't know the repressed soccer Moms of JoCo were willing to drive all the way to Springfield.
This story is full of snarky goodness, I just don't know where to begin.
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, iPod etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS
1. IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY? Until I Collapse (Eminem)
2. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF? El Phantasmo and the Chicken Run Blast-o-Rama (White Zombie)
3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Into the Ocean (Blue October)
4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? She's a Lady (Tom Jones)
5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE? Go West (Pet Shop Boys)
6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Cadillac Ranch (Chris LeDoux)
7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Next Contestant (Nickelback)
8. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? Round Here (Counting Crows)
9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? Love Me In a Special Way (El Debarge)
10. WHAT IS 2 + 2? Spanish Gypsy Dance (Mantovani Orchestra)
11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR EX? Somewhere in the Vicinity of the Heart (Alison Krauss)
12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? One (Metallica)
13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? Space Walk (Lemon Jelly)
14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Someone Like You (Linda Eder)
15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Lips of an Angel (Hinder)
16. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Down Home (Alabama)
17. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? Reflection (Christina Aguilera)
18. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? Feed Jake (Pirates of the Mississippi)
19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Stuck on You (Lionel Richie)
20. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? There for Me (Sarah Brightman)
Now press Next one more time and use it as your title.
Today, I'm willing to believe it.
Overall, a crap weekend. I sent one of my patients to the ICU, only to have them die in the morning. It was even a nice patient. It's always the nice ones that die prematurely, which would explain why there are a lot of assholes running around in the world.
Every time a good person dies, an asshole gets their wings. I should cross-stitch that on a sampler or something.
I had another patient try to go down the crapper on me last night. They were not too successful in their attempt. Perhaps they were that pissed that Green Bay lost.
To cap off the weekend, some assclown ran and red light and almost t-boned me. Dumbass.
There are other reasons I am annoyed, of which I won't elaborate. Give me five more minutes and I will be over it.
Actually, I think I'm going to go to bed before the house caves in or something. Maybe that black cloud that has been following me around all weekend will move on to that crabass that lives next door. The old fart husband parked some old Ford POS in front of my house, with the a flat front tire on the lawn, and it has been sitting in that same spot for the past 3 months or so. I don't know why they couldn't park their turd in front of their house and decrease their own property value, but I'm sure the mailman is thrilled when he has to get out of his warm little truck to get to my mailbox to deliver my coupons from Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
I'm signing off for the rest of the day. Maybe my faith in the human race (or more specifically, men) will be restored when I wake up this afternoon.
But it's unlikely.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
|You Are 85% Tortured Genius|
You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood.
Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Some of the usual suspects graced us with their presence: XO, Spyder, Emaw, Faith and her new hubby, Leo (they arrived later), Average Jane and M Toast. Michelle popped in for a quick hello. Chimpo brought the very pregnant Mrs. Chimpo, and everyone wondered how he was able to land such a nice and pretty girl.
I finally got to meet the exotic Meesha, my online paramour. I would have liked to talk to him more...but it's kind of hard to get to know someone when everyone else is watching closely. It was almost like everyone was waiting for something to happen...like me throwing him on the table and demonstrating why Muslim extremists really hate Americans.
Irish KC brought the Irish accent. At one point, I was going to hand him a menu and have him read it to me. I'm a fan of foreign accents. I also lobbied for a cartoon with my name on it because I am a shameless famewhore like that. I thought a nurse named Heather would be a great character.
Many things were discussed. Chimpo offered to show off his toe (to which everyone declined). Spyder kept going on and on about her "bend over space". Almost everyone ordered a calzone (and they are every bit as good as advertised). Meesha ordered some strange lemon dessert thing the was frozen so solid, I could have lobbed it at Chimpo's head and given him a concussion. Faith brought wedding/honeymoon pics (I suspect she left the interesting ones at home).
And no one got called a Commie.
Good to see old faces, and new ones. Missed the regulars who didn't show, but look forward to seeing everyone at the next meet up.
And I have two more nights of this.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
|You Are Ani Difranco!|
Honest, real, and well liked.
You're not limited by any boundaries.
"And you can call me crazy
But I think you're as lazy as white paint on the wall"
I knew a guy who loved Ani.
I have no idea who she is. I think I will go find some music by her so I will be "in the know".
Cafe al Dente, in the River Market at Fourth & Delaware, Kansas City, Mo
Thursday January 17th 2008
5pm to last person standing
I keep hearing all this talk of the calzones, so they must be good.
Come on down. It's not like there's anything on t.v. tonight.
See ya there!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The interviews went as interviews go...nothing I would classify as fun. I wonder if the interviewees are as terrified as I am bored. Being on the interview committee is quite helpful...I learn what I should and should not do.
After my very important meetings, another nurse (who is also my gay boyfriend) and myself went to Cafe Trio for eats and drinks. We must have stayed there forever. We managed to solve all the problems of our unit and we even squeezed in time to bitch about men.
On the way home, a car spun out in the middle of Broadway as the white stuff wafted down from the heavens. I managed to make it home without someone careening into me.
So, now I sit here. Periodically looking at the window. The streets don't look too bad around my house, and those are usually more worse for wear than the main streets and highways.
Should I chance it and go to the gym, or just call it a night and go to bed? I do have to get up early for another meeting, and even risking going out for an hour on an elliptical machine sounds silly.
Meh. I think I will just go to bed. I'll make sure to do some crunches before I do.
I perched myself upon the elliptical machine of my choosing and began my workout. At my gym, the cardio-theater faces the rest of the gym. So, I can either watch the televisions, or I can watch other people working out. Sometimes I will do both, contingent on if anything good is playing on one of the six screens.
I recently updated my workout play list on my iPod, so I was moving at a fairly good clip. The new sports bra I recently invested in proved to be a sound investment.
New sports bra + good tunes = good workout
Of the gym inhabitants tonight, there was a Tweeker who was just roaming around the gym. I have no idea what she was up to. There were a couple muscle heads. A handful of normal folks like myself that probably go late at night for the same reasons I do. Of the bunch, there was a guy, built like a brick shithouse (he had to have been 6'5"), with red hair.
It's kind of hard to miss the red heads, so I watched as he did his little workout. He kept going to this one machine, and he was using it wrong. I know this because my trainer once berated me for using the same machine the wrong way. Once you get an ass-chewing of such nature, it's hard to forget.
After my session on the elliptical machine, I gathered my bag of workout stuff and started to leave. Someone called out, "Hey, Red!" I turned and it was the Red Headed Gorilla smiling at me.
Yes, I know...Heather brings the heat. However, what I don't bring is a lot of finesse when it comes to strange guys approaching me. So, I did what I normally do in such situations.
I waved, smiled, and ran away.
If I know a guy, it's a little easier for me to be flirty. I'm not like those girls who can throw it out there in bars and clubs. Who dance on bars. Who can be seen on a Girls Gone Wild dvd.
You know, the kind of girls that The D likes to go out with.
No, I'm usually the girl that the guys crawl over to get to the aforementioned females. You're loss, fellas.
Anyway, I'm home now. Safe from being talked to by strange men. Man, they might do something scary...like ask me out for coffee. Or worse...want to exchange phone numbers.
God, I'm so pathetic.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Ever the curious sort, I looked at online real estate sites to see what it was listed it. A few weeks after they moved out, it was finally posted. The asking price was really low, but it was a foreclosure, and those things are usually "as is".
I mentioned this new development to Mom in conversation. A couple weeks later, her and Mr. Recommendation go and look at the house. I tagged along out of curiosity, and I decided that my previous neighbors were all colorblind.
Today, Mom and Mr. Recommendation will make an offer for the house.
Brother is excited because this expands the size of land he can hunt squirrels on. I'm glad because I will be able to keep tabs on her. Not too close, though. The patio is on the other side of the house, so I won't see her in the event she partakes of too much tequila and tries to flash the neighbors. However, it will be handy to have Mr. Recommendation nearby in the event my toilet explodes.
I was pretty stoked about the idea of having my basement back, until Brother announced he would be moving down there after Mr. Recommendation cleared out all his tools and stuff. It would be more room for him, but he would have to share the space with my pantry, and storage room. On the bright side, it frees up the guest room, and my quandary as to where to put a second kennel will be solved.
Even better, I won't have to listen to Brother and his Flavor of the Week getting their freak on.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
But this meeting was mandatory, the Bosshole said. I complained. I don't usually attend staff meetings, opting to read the minutes later. I asked the Bosshole if I could just read the minutes of this meeting. He said no, my attendance was required because participation was expected. Besides, he reasoned, it's going to be fun!
Ugh! This coming from a guy who thinks the Billy Idol Christmas cd was a symphonic masterpiece.
So, I drove in. I even went in early to catch a staff meeting before this other mandatory meeting. I'm sure the Bosshole almost passed out from shock.
From the staff meeting, a small group of us goes to another part of the hospital where this other meeting is held. When we get there, we find it's a brainstorming meeting. Fun? Not even close.
One of the better parts about working nights is how creative we can be when we are bored. Since most the attendees were night shift people, we started to entertain ourselves with inside jokes and innuendo.
At one point, we are all asked to write down ideas on post-it notes on how we can improve things at the hospital. Some of the ideas were serious, then there were some that were not...like installing a margarita machine on the floor.
We were asked to put our post-its on the wall after we were finished. Then, everyone was given three red sticky dots to go put by our favorite ideas.
I lagged behind, waiting for the majority of the crowd to disperse before going up. Tweener was standing in front of me, and I jokingly complained the line was moving too slow. Without missing a beat, Tweener turned around and announced, "This is what interests me!" and puts her two remaining red dots on my sweater.
In the two most obvious places.
There are many things my coworkers can say they've seen me do. None of which was embarrassment. This would be their lucky day.
Toph sees this exchange and gets excited. He gives Tweener a congratulatory cobra strike. Still red, I pluck the obscenely placed stickers from my sweater, and stick them next to a couple random post-its. The night shifters are laughing. The day shifters have no idea what just happened. Bosshole apparently missed it entirely.
The meeting comes to a close. Smo smacks Tweener on the butt. Toph also likes this exchange. I swear, the night shift is a sexual harassment lawsuit just begging to happen.
I complained to Bosshole that the meeting wasn't as fun as he promised. "Yes it was, you guys were laughing!" he defends. I shake my head. Our fun had nothing to do with the meeting.
We were just making the best out of a bad situation.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
I went and had lunch with two good friends of mine, Tweener and Lou. We got on the subject that 2007 was rife with disappointment for us at General Blather (I have no idea where they got that impression), and how 2008 was going to be a better year. My reply was a shrug of my shoulders.
That got the cheerleading section going. Tweener said something that not only sounded cool, but made sense. Stop existing, and start living.
Lately, I've hit a wall. I'm going to be turning 33 in a few months, and while I have made big steps in my life, I'm nowhere near where I want to be. I find that I'm comparing myself to the younger, cuter nurses on the floor. Not too long ago, a coworker flapped his yap and inadvertently said that guys aren't interested in girls like me.
Surprisingly, I still speak to him. He should consider himself fortunate that I don't have his testicles hanging from my keychain.
Lately, I've been all about the job, all about the house, all about nurturing "potential" relationships, all about everyone else, and leaving nothing for myself. I used to be hell on wheels. Now, I'm more like flat tires on a Ford Pinto.
Instead of formulating a resolution, I've just decided that I've had it with just existing. This is my year. I'm bringing sexy back, bitches.
Consider yourselves warned.
If I had to list my top five favorite things to do, kissing would make that list. I'm not one for bragging, but I'm pretty good at it. No, I'm not going to demonstrate...you're just going to have to take my word for it. If you are speechless after I've kissed you, then my job is done.
I'd like to think that this talent was given to me as a consolation to knowing when someone is going to croak, or when a boyfriend is cheating on me.
So here it is...my list of memorable kisses.
The First Kiss
It was just before my 15th birthday, and I was having a sleepover at my friend Lisa's house. She had an older brother, maybe 16 or 17 who was hot. Ridiculously hot. Unfortunately, he knew it. Lisa lived in a big, older home. So, we strapped on our roller skates (because roller skating was big back then) and skated around the house. Kenny (the brother) watched as we zoomed from room to room. A couple times, I caught him just staring at me, but I really didn't think anything of it. Later on, I would realize he was giving me that look, but I was young and inexperienced in such matters...so I didn't know what that look meant.
Anyway, Lisa got bored and decided to watch tv while I still skated. At one point, I rounded a corner and before realizing it, Kenny had cornered me, and planted a big kiss on me. I was bewildered, but just went with it because it was fun, and there wasn't anything else to do that day. Afterwards, he asked me if that was my first kiss, to which I answered the affirmative. He then marveled because I was so good at it.
I spent the rest of the day macking on Kenny, and he left the World's Biggest Hickey on my neck (to which I went to great lengths to keep hidden from Mom as she would have had a nuclear meltdown...thank God for long hair). Lisa wasn't mad. In fact, she was excited because she wanted me as a sister.
Kenny and I never talked after that day.
The First Kiss I Actually Meant
James was my first real boyfriend. He lived in a neighboring town, had dreams of being a firefighter, and had a twin brother. We met at the swimming pool the summer I was 15. He came with a youth group on a big yellow bus. So, if we wanted to see each other, it was at the pool because neither of us had a driver's license. Sometimes, we would swim, sometimes, we would hang out at the nearby park
On day, we were sitting on the bus and talking about the summer coming to a close. He gave me that look. Recognizing that look, I got a big knot in my stomach of sheer nervousness. Then, he just leaned over and kissed me. He drooled, but I didn't care. A kiss with a boy I actually liked. I was floating for the rest of the day.
He wasn't necessarily the best kisser ever, but he was my first boyfriend, and in my teen aged emotional mentality, I thought I loved him. So, I was willing to overlook the kissing deficits in hopes that he would get better.
The Worst Kiss Ever
Men, if you suck at kissing, women are going to interpret that as you sucking at everything else. While most men use kissing as a means to an end, women use kissing to gauge a man and his, ahem, presumed talents...not to mention just what kind of guy you are. It's almost impossible to be aroused by a guy who tries to eat your face.
This guy came along later in life. I'd been interested in him for a while, but he was one of those confirmed bachelor types. We'd became good friends through time, hung out a lot. One day, we were on the couch and taking matters in my own hands, and making feminists everywhere proud, I kissed him. Boy, what a mistake that was! It was like kissing a warm, dead fish. He returned the kiss (apparently too shy to make the first move himself), but it didn't get any better. Tight lips, drooling, clumsy. Afterwards, he admitted that while he was a fan of me, he wasn't a fan of kissing because he was worried about germs.
Our relationship never blossomed after that. We just decided to stay friends. Thankfully, I never had to kiss him again.
The Most Unusual Kiss
While he had full lips and was a good kisser, he liked to bite. A lot. He was a biter.
The Best Kiss
In the movie Hearts in Atlantis, Anthony Hopkins' character is talking about the first kiss of a boy. He says, "It will be the kiss by which all others in your life will be judged... and found wanting. " That is exactly what this next kiss was.
Mike was my equal. A closet romantic, intelligent, funny. He took me to the Plaza for dinner one night, and as we were walking back to his car, he just pulled me into his arms and kissed me, in front of anyone who happened to be there. Never before had a kiss left me speechless and breathless at the same time. Of course, I had to return the favor. I don't know how long we stood there, but it had to be a while. His kiss conveyed all that he was...romantic, intelligent and funny. At that moment, I was smitten.
The job demands of a prosecutor got in the way and the relationship didn't last too long. However, the kiss still resonates years later, and I do find myself measuring all kisses to it.
And wanting it still. Not necessarily from that same guy, but with the same passion and honesty.
I got nothing else to add, but it was fun to reflect upon the kisses of my past. Like Rachel, I dare you to do the same.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
You Are a Liberal Republican
When you tell people that you're Republican, they rarely believe you.
That's because you're socially liberal - likely pro-choice and pro-gay rights.
You're also not so afraid of big goverment, as long as it benefits people and not politicians.
You are the most likely of any Republican type to swing over to the Democrat side sometimes.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Talk about Bridezilla from hell. Narcissistic much?
And just where do you go to find someone who will bake such a monstrosity for your most special of special events? RayQwan George's Emporium of Cake Decoration and Auto Repair?
If people employ their weddings to make all their wild fantasies come true (aside from that one fantasy regarding latex, a pool of jello, and a circus midget), did the husband take particular pleasure in cutting into it with a sharp knife??
Aside from my opinion that the dress is probably the most hideous thing I have seen on a bride, how in the hell did the wedding guests manage to not bust out laughing upon laying their eyes on the confection? Did anyone request a specific piece when it was their turn for a slice. I can only imagine some of the phrases uttered at the cake table.
"I'll have a piece of her ass, thank you."
"I'm more of a breast man myself, but can you give me just a small piece? I'm on a diet."
"Dry cake sucks. I hope she's moist."
I guess maybe the bigger question was what happened to the head? I'm going to assume that they chopped it off and stuffed it in the freezer, to be eaten for their one-year anniversary.
I was sitting at the desk, and it occurred to me that this spring will be my 15 year high school reunion. Yikes!! Has it really been that long?? I missed the 10 year because no one could find me to tell me about it. I guess I should go this time. It would make for good blog fodder...I graduated with a class of 27, in a town that had no stoplights.
This morning, I had to stay after work and participate in the competency fair. All hospitals have some sort of annual re-newel thing nurses do to show that we know what we are doing. It's long, boring, and I hate it almost as bad as onions.
If you work the night before, you are given a sticker that says something to the effect of "I worked last night, so I get to move to the front of the line." In theory, this sounds like a good thing. In practice, you may as well wear a sticker that says, "I like donkeys and 10 year old boys". At one point, a couple nurses, who had a full night of sleep under them, refused to let anymore bleary-eyed nurses move in front of them because they were bitches.
One group of stations was set up in the skills lab of the nursing school. Skills labs in nursing schools are universal. Hospital beds, dummies, various procedure trays used by nursing students to demonstrate (on the dummies) that you wipe front to back. This skills lab was bigger than the one at the school I went to, but the smell of fear hung in the air all the same. I immediately broke out into a rash upon entering.
Another set of stations was set up in a classroom. This was primarily advanced stuff that I'm really not too familiar with. One of our check-off is the defibrillator. To be honest, I've never had to actually man one in a situation that requires it. When those situations arose, the code team was usually there before you had a chance to use it. Plus, those situations are fairly uncommon. No, the only time I get to manhandle a defibrillator, is during Comp Fair and ACLS class. In the time between, I completely forget everything about the machine in a case of "use it or lose it".
So, I get to go to the check-off point with one of those nurses who thinks she's the Big Shit because she works in ICU and she saves lives, and if you don't work in ICU, then you suck. I hate nurses like this. At any rate, I'm exhausted, I'm irritable, and I really don't want to think too hard and use my . Sensing a weakened opponent, in the same manner a lion senses a gazelle with a bad leg, she decides to grill me on crap that I don't even have to know. Lucky me, a know-it-all nurse is standing behind me and joins in on the inquisition. What. The. Hell. I get flustered, my brain turns to oatmeal, and I sound like a complete moron. Big Shot ICU nurse gets this incredulous look like I'm the dumbest person on the planet and she can't believe that human lives depend on me. I just want to attach the defibrillator to her eyeballs and give her a couple jolts. I'm pretty confident that I've retained enough that I could manage that.
Three hours after I enter, I get to go home. Employee Health has a booth and they are drawing titers on all the nurses to check on what we are immune to. They only have two people working the station, the line is long, and moving slower than Jessica Simpson at a spelling bee. At this point, I surrender and decide to go home. I'm not waiting an hour just to be poked.
Comp Fair sucks.
Brother returned home this afternoon carrying a long, slender box. I asked what was in the box and shows me that it's a BB gun.
This can only mean one thing.
A few years ago, he worked a job that had a two-week shutdown. Because Brother is the kind of guy who doesn't like to be idle, set up shop in my parents' freestanding garage which had a problem with mice. Sitting in a lawn chair, armed with a BB gun and a plate of Cheese Whiz, he picked off unsuspecting rodents that came out to feast on spreadable cheese. In one day, he bagged around 25 mice.
I, on the other hand, do not have a mice problem.
Brother observed that my neighborhood has an abundance of squirrels. While Sam barks and scares them away, he has yet to actually catch one. Because Brother is bored and in need of a hobby to take his mind off of his nicotine withdrawal, he has taken upon himself thin the squirrel population in the neighborhood...starting with my backyard.
I immediately called Mom to complain. I rather like furry critters, so does Mom. I put Brother on the phone with Mom and she sets in how evil he would be to kill defenseless squirrels. Brother tells her he plan on eating the squirrels that he kills, and suddenly she's okay with the plan.
Killing squirrels for fun = bad
Killing squirrels for food = good
We don't have a meat shortage in my house. Our survival is not contingent on Brother's Daily Spoils. I have no interest in eating a squirrel. Aside from the obvious redneck jokes, this is all very disturbing to me.
But Brother is determined, and so he will hunt trophy squirrel from the comforts of my deck. I don't want to know about it. I don't want to hear about it. And I definitely don't want to see squirrel parts anywhere in my house.
But I do wonder what he plans on wearing during his hunting excursion. Is he doing to dress in beige in an effort to blend in with the house??
If the authorities come knocking on the door...he's on his own.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Then I read that Andy had been killed the other day in Iraq during an ambush. He had written an entry to be published in the event of his death.
If you read it, and you feel nothing, then you are a cold, heartless bastard.
God, I hate this war.
I've long held the belief that Brit-Brit is either bi-polar, or has some kind of schizo-affective disorder. These things usually manifest themselves in the early twenties. Think about it...what person in their right mind would exhibit the kind of behavior that she has??
I totally want props if I am right.
So all this has culminated in a fiasco that was replayed over and over on major news networks. A standoff with police, her carted out on a stretcher looking like she's a few floats shy of a parade. That isn't what grabbed my attention. No, what I found most disturbing about the whole thing was the mass of photographers present. Running after the ambulance, a couple even managed to jump on the back in an effort to get a clear shot in the rear window. I found myself hoping the ambulance driver would gun the accelerator and take a couple of them out. For a moment there, I kind of felt sorry for Britney. Your complete psychological collapse, and a throng of photographers hovering around like buzzards, seemingly delighted at your misfortune.
If she ends up killing herself, I won't be surprised. I think the pressure of having bottom-feeders breathing down your neck, just waiting for your next flub-up, would drive anyone to do something rash. Someone with a severe mental imbalance, even more so.
It makes me glad that I'm not a celebrity.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
The ironic part? His first sexual experience came from a girl he met on a Mormon dating website.
I can't think of anything to say with that...
After the tire got replaced, I went home, changed my clothes, and dashed off to my hair appointment. I am now a lovely redhead...not a blonde hair in sight.
I came home, relishing my sleep time when I am called by a friend and am ambushed into dinner. So, I leave the house...again. We eat at D'Bronx. My friend orders extra sauce on the pizza, and makes it a big soupy mess. Don't ever order extra sauce on your pizza at D'Bronx. As far as I'm concerned, their pizza is perfect, and shouldn't be trifled with.
After dinner, I go look at my friend's new loft downtown. He just moved there and I've been wanting to see what a downtown loft looks like. He lives on the top floor, and has a great view of the place where the first homicide of Kansas City occurred. Nice.
After that, I drove home, wide awake, because after a certain point of no sleep, you get that wild-eyed look and it's impossible to fall asleep with your own devices. I got home, took some Benadryl, and that was the end of that.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
So, last week I stopped by Hellmart. I explained how the car shook, shimmied, and jerked to the right. Not a steady pull, but sharp jerks. The mental giant who was taking orders tried to diagnose the problem. Please just have someone look at the tires and find the problem. That is what I requested. An hour and a half later, I get my car back...tires rotated and balanced. No one mentioned a gimpy tire, so I figured that the balancing and rotation was the culprit.
Then, I drive the car back home. The car does not vibrate, or jerk to the left, but the shimmy is still there, only this time it's coming from the back of the car instead the front. This tells me two things: that the problem is tire-related and Hellmart employs the runners-up from the Special Olympics.
This morning, I stop by Hellmart. I explain to the girl at the desk about my visit last week, and tell them that the problem still exists. It was only moved from the front of the car, to the back of the car. My wait time...one hour, maybe one-and-a-half. Start time: 9 AM.
I meander around the store, and buy absolutely nothing. Sit down for a spell, have a cup of coffee, meander some more. I decide to go back to Automotive and my car sits in the parking lot, exactly where I left it. An hour and a half has elapsed. I start glaring at staff and my car is brought into the bay.
At 11am, I'm called to the back and am told I have a bad tire in the form of a large bubble on the rear driver side tire. I nearly implode. THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN USEFUL TO KNOW LAST WEEK WHEN YOU HAD THE DAMN CAR ON THE RACK!!!
Would I like a new tire? Yes! I stand and glare at everyone while a new tire is being installed. I decide that if I am still there at noon, I'm going to have a nuclear meltdown. The car is finished with 20 minutes to spare.
Now, the car doesn't shake, shimmy, or do anything that you only see when someone is getting busy in the back seat (which has never happened in my car...that I'm aware of).
I have to change out of my scrubs, and go to my hair appointment because the red has faded somewhat, and my blonde roots are showing. At 4pm this afternoon, I will have been awake for 24 hours straight. With any luck, I will be home before then and curled up in my warm bed. Electric blanket on, not a stitch of clothing in site. Just the way nature intended.
Until that time, I will be ingesting anything with a high caffeine content. Starbucks, here I come!
Surely, this has to be the bride's idea. The groom goes along because it's either:
A) camping! -or-
B) the girlfriend has threatened to cut him off from visiting her pink taco stand
I see this story every year, and every year I think they are retarded. Even worse, these couples will go on to marry, and produce retarded children who will one day camp overnight for a wedding date in a public park.
Yes, the park is pretty. But not worth getting frostbite over.
I still stand by my preference for eloping.
And if so, is committing the first homicide of the year something that earns the perp bragging rights? Is there a special gang award that can be displayed proudly in the crack house for all to see? What about prizes?? A new, illegal firearm? A discount on drugs?? Blowjob from the hooker that still has all her teeth????
If that were the case, it could open up the floodgates for all new year firsts. Hell, you could make even the menial of tasks in your life exceptional because it was the first one of that year: first poop of the year, first fart, first masturbation, first pimple on your ass...the possibilities are endless!!
I figured candy-assed parents employ this method to make every mundane thing their child does to be cause for celebration, why can't adults do it, too? This could be a trend!
Now if you will excuse me, I'm going to find something to do that I haven't done this year.