Friday, November 27, 2009
But there I was, standing in my shower trying to wake up at 0400. We weren't shooting to arrive when the doors opened. I'm not a complete masochist. But to get somewhere and still maybe catch, err, something.
So, Mom staggers over and bleary-eyed, we get our caffeine fix before our first stop, Target. We both agreed that Walmart was ground zero, and should be avoided at all costs. Especially the one by our house. It draws the crazies on a regular day. I can't imagine what it would look like on Black Friday.
We get to Target around 0530, and park five miles away. All the 31-inch flat panel televisions are gone because they only stock five of them. I noticed that the cheap stuff was gone, but there was always a comparable item overstocked and ready for you to take if you paid just a little more. Whatever, Target, I'm onto your little game.
I manage to get a couple dvds, a digital picture frame, and something to decorate my mantle with.
Next stop, the mall. Parking sucks, but we take it up the ass anyway. We clean out Bath and Body works of various gels and lotions because women like that sort of thing.
After that, we agree to take a breakfast break at Dennys.
Right around the corner, is KMart. Parking still sucks, we're stupid and go inside anyway, where the place looks like a tornado swept through it. More people than we encountered anywhere. I find a pre-lit tree and some new pajamas. I love pajamas. These are black, silky ones that are pimpin' like Hugh Hefner, but they are women's pajamas. But if Hugh saw them, he'd say, "That's pimpin!" I have bawdy pajamas, too, but I like to switch things up. Most days, I prefer to be the hammer instead of the nail.
From there, we stop at Big Lots, and see nothing impressive. Moving along!
In the car, we discuss Walmart and decide to go, but the new one in Raytown. Sure, it may be smaller, but there appears to be less a risk of getting shanked in the toy isle. By the time we roll over, the parking lot doesn't appear dire, and we actually find a spot relatively close to the actual building. As we walk in, we overhear two cops talking about the shoplifter they just caught.
It is at Walmart, I find a similar tree to the one I just bought, but for $35 less. And a picture frame one inch bigger than the one I bought at Target, for the same price. Shit. I hate it when that happens.
Legs numb, walking zombies we have turned into. Mom and I buy some stuff, and right now I can't remember what I bought, but I'm sure I felt I needed it at the time. Anyway, we retreat to home where I immediately crawl into bed and pass out.
Black Friday, you are done and I hardly remember ye. I'm going back to bed.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
But, there are the ones who start out cute as a button, but then turn on a dime and scare the hell out of you. Take the 80-year old lady who was admitted for an electrolyte imbalance.
Little Old Lady: Honey-child, do you have a husband?
RN: No, not married.
LOL: Oh, so do you have a boyfriend then?
LOL: Oh! So you've given up the pussy then!!
LOL: I know my pussy is old, but it still makes the men holler, dear Jesus!!
RN: (still speechless)
LOL: At the last hospital I was at, a worker there became my friend. He held my hand just a little longer. Looked at me a little longer.
RN: (regaining composure) Oh?
LOL: Yeah...we were going to do it! Just didn't have a place to go. But, oh boy, I would've gotten on top of that! He had a nice ass.
RN: (composure lost)
LOL: Uh huh! I used to be married, you know.
RN: (wearily) You did?
LOL: Yeah...I had me some good dick back then. I love me some good dick!
RN: (jaw hits floor)
LOL: (dry humping the air) Yes, Lord have mercy! I need to get me some dick soon or I'm going to have to rape someone.
LOL: (looking at television) Look at that guy. Yes sir, I bet he gives good dick!
For the duration of her stay, we get to hear strange noises coming out of her room. A quick peek into the observation window shows that she is alone, but we avoid going in there unless we are summoned. Soon, the sound of her call light strikes fear into the hearts of the staff. She watches television, and we occasionally hear her appraisal of the potential sexual prowess of whomever is on the screen. The Sham Wow guy, Billy Mays, people on MTV, and some televangelist with a mullet. We try to warn ancillary staff before they go into the room, but the lab tech still slips through our fingers.
LOL: (eyeing lab tech) Mmmm, you're pretty fine.
Lab Tech: Uhh, thank you?
LOL: Yeah, you need to get all the pussy you can while you are here, Lord have mercy!
No one was safe. She announced to the nurse tech who was bathing her that she was doing a stellar job washing her pussy. I think that tech has quit nursing school and is now applying to work at Sonic.
Was it mere coincidence that I, who sells sex toys, be assigned this patient?
I contemplated, briefly, sending Bosshole in there to speak with her about sexually harassing our staff. But then, she'd probably do her own sexual assessment of him, and no one wants to hear that. The poor chap's head would explode.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Because I'd slap this woman halfway through the conversation. My hats off to those who do work in the ER. Generally, people like this aren't admitted (unless, according to the recently published Harvard Study, you have insurance), but occasionally one slides through the cracks and they get to have me for their nurse. People like this make nurses re-evaluate why they became nurses in the first place. Some doctors, too.
And you wonder why you have to wait four hours to be seen in the ER? It's schmucks like this that hold up the line. I wish I could say that patients like this are rare, but they are not. There's enough of them to spawn an entire race. Skin-color irrelevant. They belong to the drug-seeking demographic.
(Shamelessly poached from Dr. Grumpy, who poached it from someone else. Go check out Dr. Grumpy's blog!!)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
But the peer pressure waxes strong with Mother, so I orchestrated a trade at work, and got the day off.
Mother said I could bring a guest, and my attempts to invite one were met with incredulous looks and transparent excuses (none of my single friends wanted to go either). So, not only does childless, husbandless me get to go to the circus, I also get to go stag.
It was a morning show, starting at 10am. Mother said we had to be ready to go at 8:30 am. Now, working nights since I graduated high school, I tend to stay up late. Not by choice, but because my internal clock is wired for it. So, I finally go to bed around 5:00 am, maybe get in a light nap, and then roll out of bed at promptly 8:00 am.
Scowling, I meet the women and children in the driveway, and we go downtown. For some reason, I was under the impression that this was a Barnum and Bailey type circus. It wasn't until we got into Municipal Auditorium, and I spotted a bunch of men in the classic burgundy fez, that I realized that it was a Shriner's Circus.
I don't have anything bad to say about the Shriners. When I was a newborn, I had a defect that required me to wear a cast and braces the first year of my life. The Shriners paid for it. Because of the Shriners, I can walk like a normal person (unless I've had something to drink). However, as I was sitting in the stands, watching the pre-circus festivities, I couldn't help but wonder just who was going to be on the trapeze. Some old guy in tights and a fez?
Thankfully, it turns out that they have a, ahem, real circus come and do the circus type stuff. The Shriners are left to dress as clowns and sell you anything that isn't nailed down. This includes these light-up wands that play music. They had some that looked like laser guns. Some looked like butterflies, some looked like light sabers. Each you would have to put a second mortgage on your house to buy. But parents were buying it all.
Anyway, I'm sitting in the stands (which were pretty good seats, actually), and am observing. In front of me, they are giving elephant rides for $10. You get to ride the elephant around the little ring twice. That's $5 a lap. Over on the other end, they are giving pony rides for $5. You get more than two rotations (maybe three), but you are going around so fast, I expected small children to be airborne by sheer centrifugal force.
There's a bungee jump thing in the corner, and I don't know how much they were charging per bounce. But the one thing that caught my eye was the Titanic Slide.
What. The. Hell? Am I the only one who finds this disturbing??? Apparently not, because parents were shelling out dollars so their kids could slide down the deck, much in the same manner that the actual Titanic passengers did when the ship was plunging into the frigid waters of the Atlantic. I'm surprised they didn't have a little quartet of kazoo players near by playing, "Nearer My God to Thee".
So, the circus actually begins with the ringmaster singing some cheesey little opening song, with a handful of girls dressed in skimpy Vegas showgirl outfits. One had a bad case of muffin top.
The lights dim and the Shriner clowns play a game with the audience, or rather, those in the audience who bought those spinner lights. They told everyone turn them off, and then on the count of three, everyone turn them back on. Exciting! This served no purpose other than to shame the cheap parents who didn't buy them for their children. Disappointed cries could be heard throughout the arena.
The first act is the tigers and the smell of pee fills the air as hundreds of children wet themselves with excitement. Sis-in-Law says it was tiger pee that I smelled, but I know better.
I'm not one of those freaky PETA people, but I felt bad for the tigers. I don't know if it was because such a graceful, beautiful thing was not meant to be a circus act, or it was just being in this particular circus, but I found myself wishing one would swallow the head of the trainer. Is that bad?
And so the circus goes in standard fashion: trapeze, high wire, Shriner clowns, trampoline, guys on bikes in a big metal ball, Shriner clowns, jugglers, some people playing drums half as well as I do, dancing bears, Shriner clowns, and various other acts that I refer to as Stupid Human Tricks. Oh, and some lady was shot out of a cannon. Big Finish!
The worst part? Not one beer to be found during that entire event. I asked a vendor why, and she sniffed, "This is a family event." So!! I would think that for such an event is when you need beer the most! Oh well. If they charged $2.50 for a can of soda, I imagine you'd have to sign the title of your car over for a bottle of Bud Light.
Financially drained, everyone files out of the auditorium, with their sugar-laden hyped-up children, all waving their little spinning light wands that probably died by the end of the day. Or turned up missing at the hand of the parents who were tired of listening to the same tune over and over and over again.
I hope the next baby who has to wear braces on their legs, understands the sacrifice I made on their behalf. I sat through a Shriners Circus so that they may walk.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
November, it would appear, is a Man's Cancer Awareness Month. Instead of coloring everything one color, it was decided that the best way to bring awareness to the cancer of men's dangly parts and internal plumbing, was for the menfolk to grow a porn stache.
Meesha has been chronicling his facial pube journey. Chipotle has thrown his face fuzz into the cause as well.
(On a side note, porn stache's scare me. The Boy had some weird facial hair style thing going on for a while. He looked like an ice cream truck driver. It gave me nightmares. Thankfully, he caved to the online tauntings of his friends and got rid of it. However, the image is forever seared in my mind...)
But it got me thinking. Men will wear the pink to support the boobie cause. What can women do to return the favor in kind?? Not all women were blessed with the power to grow a full stache. I mean, I have one rogue hair that likes to crop up on my chin, but even if I allowed it to grow, you still couldn't see it because it's so dam light. It's not enough to be effective! It lacks impact! It just doesn't convey to the world that I support the men folk in their fight against dangly part cancers!!
Then it came to me. While most women may not grow hair on their faces, we do grow hair in other places.
So, in observance of Men's Cancer Awareness Month, I propose that the women of the world unite and stop shaving for the month of November. Legs! Armpits! Delicate girly parts!! The more hair, the more you can show your support of our brothers in their cause.
And if you have questions about how to avoid shaving, ask our European sisters for pointers.
Hair cuts are still acceptable. We're not total barbarians.
So, toss those razors, ladies! Let Operation: Fuzz for Cancer commence!!! Do it for the health of the special men in your lives!! Fathers, Husbands, Boyfriends, Brothers. Show them we are in the trenches with them, right by their side!!!
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
It finally occurred to me that she could be in heat.
This might explain why she pounces on Sam each morning when I let them out. Sam, who has been fixed since he was a little boy, clearly has no idea what to do with the ladies. Bewildered, he just looks at her, then me, then her, almost as if pleading for me to save him from the wanton trollop.
Then, she routinely flops over onto her back with her legs in the air. May as well attach a sign to her ass that says, "Free! Help yourself!!" And she has that look.
You know that look. You see that look in the eyes of countless females at the Power and Light District.
I have since scheduled an appointment to get her girly parts fixed.
Meanwhile, I'm going to have a talk with her. Just because she's not getting her needs met, doesn't mean she needs to act so desperate. She can take a page from my book and GET SOME SELF CONTROL.Damn horndog.
The odd thing, the woman wanted to know what I was putting out. Uh...crap I don't want that I can't put out on regular garbage day. No, she wanted specifics. Like I know every little thing that goes. I usually just blow throw the house picking stuff at random to toss. So, I just covered the basics of what I knew already earned a spot. I'll find a couple surprises to leave out there as well.
The laundry room is almost complete. The tile floor is done, walls painted, ceiling repaired, re-textured, and repainted. New sink. New light fixtures. It's going to be glorious when it's completed. Pics will be forthcoming.
Halloween was a general bust around my neighborhood. I bought a shitload of candy (which I am told is an actual unit of measurement), and only had 12 trick or treaters. Not counting Mom who came over with a paper bag over her head. I just enticed her into the house with promises of candy and my puppy.
Of those 12, only 3 came without costumes. Grr. Halloween is simple. You wear a costume, you get paid in candy. It isn't rocket science. A couple girls showed up bathed in glitter. I don't know what they were supposed to be (Christmas ornaments??), but at least they tried. No-costume Boys got DumDum pops.
So now I have a shitload of candy. I'm slowly dishing it out at work because those nurses will eat anything you put on the break room table. Next year, I may just forgo the trick or treaters, and find a nice party to go to instead.
I'll dress as a Christmas ornament.