Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Nurse Follies: Another PSA

After consulting with a firefighter friend of mine, I thought I would pass along this public service announcement...because I'm all about saving lives and stuff.

In the event your house catches fire, it is never recommended that you extinguish the flames by peeing on it.

Especially if the fire happens to be an electrical one.

You may now go about your day.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Audacity of Stupidity

I was in the middle of a Warcraft raid today when I heard the helicopter buzzing around the neighborhood. Sometimes, we will hear it, and it goes away within a few minutes. I did note, that the helicopter seemed to be buzzing around longer than usual.

Later this evening, I found out why. To make a long story short, some douche bag thought it would be a good idea to hold a knife to his own mother's throat, while police officers had guns drawn on him. The situation ended when a sniper shot the 18-year old, killing him.

Mr. Recommendation happened to overhear some women commenting on the event. No words uttered about what kind of boy would use his mother as a meat shield. No admonishment for a son who would put a knife to his own mother's throat. No...all the contempt was saved for the police, who shot this young boy.

"They be knowin' he wouldn't hurt his Momma!" one exclaimed, to the agreeance of the other mother hens standing nearby.

No, ma'am. They really don't. They only know that this 18 year old has a penchant for holding people up with weapons. They don't know what he likes to do in his spare time (aside from holding people up with weapons). They don't know whether he's strung out or mentally ill. All they know is what they see in front of their face...and that is a young man holding a knife to his mother's throat. Police are trained to anticipate worst-case scenarios and try to prevent them from happening. Nurses and doctors are trained the same way.

Sure, we would like to think that kids don't kill their parents, and parents don't kill their children, but we hear stories all the time that refute this. Who's to say that had police waited, assuming he "wouldn't hurt his Momma", we would be hearing that he slit her throat and her exsanguination was caught on live television?

I can't wait for the outcries to pour in, because it's only a matter of time. How Little Johnny was a good boy, on his way home from church to see his mother, when he was gunned down for no reason. All he had in his hand was his trusty Swiss army knife he got when he was awarded his Eagle Scout. Gunned down by heartless cops who have nothing better to do than shoot harmless Precious Snowflakes.

You know it's going to happen. Get your popcorn ready.

The State of Health Care

With all the debates and stories and general wharrgarrbl concerning health care, has anyone bothered to notice that no one asks doctors and nurses what they think?? We're on the front lines, we have a better idea of the battlefield than some dickhole working at BendOverAndTakeItUpTheAss Insurance Co. Or even heads-up-their-asses politicians who don't have to worry about such things as copays and insurance caps.

In what could very well be one of my most favorite blogs, Dr. Grumpy posted this. Sickly Taxpayer isn't the only one who gets screwed over by the government.

The health care system is broken. I think it can be safely assumed that our government has no interest in fixing it. They have bigger fish to fry...like gay marriage.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Back In Iowa...

I just found out today that a guy I knew, and used to attend church with, passed away a couple weeks ago. He was only 3 years older than me. Died in his sleep.

Truth is, I hadn't talked to him in years, unless you count a sporadic hello on Facebook. He was a nice guy. In the years I knew him, I don't know that I ever saw him mean to anyone. He was always chatty, and he always had some story that pertained to Iowa. He was from Iowa, and it was always, "Iowa this, and Iowa that..."

The Iowa stories did wear on you after a while.

Life marched on...I stopped going to church. He moved back to Iowa. We were not the closest of friends where we continued lines of communication. The friendship diminished into something more along the lines of "He was this guy I knew once..."

But it still doesn't make his passing any less shocking.

A nice guy, who left behind devoted parents and siblings. A ginormous patchwork quilt of friends. And a metric shitload of Iowa stories.

Rest in peace, Andy.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine's Day Can Suck It

My contempt of Valentine's Day is legend. I still stand by my belief that you should shower the object of your affection on a regular basis, just not one day. It's true, that there are a lot of people out there (mostly women), who think of Valentine's Day as a sort of measuring tool to see how much their siggy other lurves them. The bigger, more expensive show of affection, the more the intended object is loved. In fact, there is a scientific calculation that states that the amount of love is directly correlated to how many people have seen said Valentine offering. Kind of like those butt-assed expensive weddings that cease to be about the couple getting married, and more for show for everyone else. See! He loves me! He mortgaged his house and sold a kidney to finance this display of affection!!

True, had things worked out with Mr. Perfect, there might be some semblance of observation of this day. Oh, who am I kidding. I have to work the entire weekend. Any sort of Valentine Day observation would be me going to his house between shifts and offering him a Valentine's Day hummer or something. Sacrificing sleep for his personal pleasure would have spoke volumes of my commitment. On the same token, I would suspect he would have done something pretty special because he was one of those hopeless romantic types. Perhaps he would have cleaned my house. That would have been awesome.
But on a side note, at least I won't have to observe March 14th. And I do happen to make a killer steak. His loss.

Someone at work had the hair-brained idea of having a locker decorating contest for V-Day. Only one nurse got excited as she was one of those newlyweds that's still overly excited about being married. She said she would put pictures up of her honeymoon, and win, because there's nothing more romantic than honeymoon pictures. Barf.

I'll try not to be depressed this Sunday, and dwell on regrets. I'm working things out in my own way to get over him. It's much easier, and more entertaining, to be a bitter woman than to be clinically depressed. Hell, maybe I will even get another cat.

So, happy unimaginative, consumerist-oriented, and entirely arbitrary, manipulative and shallow interpretation of romance day. You suck.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I Want My Meh-TV

I remember when MTV made it's first debut. I loved it. If I had a choice, I would watch it ALL. THE. TIME. I loved the music. Loved the videos. Nina Blackwood? Kurt Loder? Downtown Julie Brown? Yes! Yes! Yes! Big chunks of time dedicated to nothing but music videos. All Music, All the Time. Then, they started adding shows, but those shows still centered on music videos, so I went along with it. Headbangers Ball, The Grind, Club MTV.

Then, they introduced Real World, which had nothing to do with music. The genesis of reality television, teenagers ate it up by the truckload. I was lukewarm about the show because it seemed to be an hour of angst-ridden, adult-wannabes whining about how they were misunderstood.

At some point, MTV realized that they could crank out more of this drivel, and those chunks of music videos just kept getting smaller and smaller.

A look at MTV today illustrates why foreign countries would like the United States to be consumed with nuclear fire. You have a couple of shows that glorifies unwed, teenage mothers. A couple shows that offers a glimpse into the lives of spoiled teenage brats, and the pussified helicopter parents who pander to them. A show that tries to convince everyone that being a Guido douche bag is actually cool and something everyone should strive for. The flagship Real World is still being broadcast, but probably should change the name to The Gay, The Angry Minority, and The Skanks and Douche Bags Who Shag in the Hot Tub.

Hell, I can't say as I blame them. I currently would like New Jersey to be bombed off the face of the earth as a result.

So, it came as no surprise to me when MTV decided to revamp the logo and completely drop the Music Television part. They haven't been about music in years, why mislead people with false advertising?

So, if MTV doesn't stand for Music Television anymore, what does the M stand for? I thought of a couple suggestions:

What are some other good ones?

Sunday, February 07, 2010

New Shoes!

My nursing clogs finally gave up the ghost, with the assistance of Lucy. So, I went out and got a new pair of shoes. After talking with various nurses, I originally thought I would go to the MBT route. Sure, they are uglier than Nick Nolte after an all night binge, but I am willing to give up snappy looking for comfort. However, I balked at the price tag.

Then, Skechers came out with their version, with the price tag hanging around $100...which is much easier to swallow than $250+. So, I drug Mother to Kohls where I got my first pair (which would happe to be the ONLY shoe in the store that wasn't on sale). While there, I thought about the time that we went shopping there, and it immediately put me in a funk. Damn him!!


So, here are the new shoes. A little ugly, a little snappy. Usually, I only wear sneakers to the gym, but I'm willing to try this out and see how I like it. They are supposed to help your posture, improve joint pain, shape up your butt, etc. etc. All I know is that the first night I wore them, my gimpy knee protested having to walk normally for once. My hip may have offered some sympathy.

Friday, February 05, 2010

What Happened...

I know some of you may wonder what transpired after my last post regarding my relationship. I'd like to thank the well-wishers and such. Your support did mean a lot to me.

Well, I did reach out to him, directed him to the post in question, but the damage was already done. While I have trust issues, he apparently did as well, and there were just some things he couldn't work around. He'd waffle between wanting me, and then not wanting anything to do with me.

It confused me. It made me hopeful. It broke my heart.

I ended up saying the wrong thing. Or doing the wrong thing. I was afraid to be myself. He became hardened and my apologies landed on deaf ears.

In the end, I have nothing to show but a confirmed belief that fairy tales don't exist. There is no such thing as a happy ending. Maybe for some women...but not me.

I guess it could be said that we weren't well matched. We were too much alike, and that was ultimately out undoing. We were both stubborn jackasses not willing to give an inch. I will now always wonder and blame myself.

This is a horrible place to be.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Get Thee Hence, Child of Satan!

I went to Sweet Tomatoes with Mother tonight. While standing in line, a woman and her young daughter were eyeing the potato salad. The mother commented that the salad had bacon, to which the daughter went on a big, dramatic tirade about the evils of bacon.

"Why do they have to go and ruin everything with bacon!?!?!"

Bacon! The magical food!! Bacon! It makes more people happy than Prozac. Bacon! Is there anything bacon can't do??? I'm fairly confident, that somewhere in bacon, resides the cure to cancer.

It was not normal to have such loathing of bacon. Truly, this was a child of evil. Only evil could hate bacon with such a passion.

I came this close to turning around and chastising the girl, but then it occurred to me that she could have been Jewish. That is the only exception that bacon-hating is okay. All others are damned to a lifetime of tofu.


Wanted: One Gently Used Kidney

My bff Kant has been sick for the past couple of weeks. One of those weeks she spent as a guest in a local hospital, which shall remain nameless, but I think is a colossal shit hole. Don't let the flat-screen televisions and crown molding fool you.

Back in the day, before I possessed the infinite knowledge that nurses have, I really didn't know what was what in the land of renal function. Now, with Kanty in the hospital, I was able to look at the numbers. I knew what was coming, but if I hoped I was wrong.

My hunch turned out to be correct. Kant, after twelve years of a successful kidney transplant, is now in kidney failure. She will go back on dialysis, and back on the waiting list for a new kidney.

Meanwhile, I will be testing to see if I am a compatible donor. A person, so good and selfless as Kathryn, needs to hang around as long as possible.

So, keep your fingers crossed that everything turns out okay, and that one of my kidneys would be happier in Kant.


There's a meme-thing going around on Facebook where you go to Urban Dictionary, and type in your name and then copy the first entry about you. Predictably, the first entry is the definition of the plant I'm named after. I scrolled down, curious, and found this:

Usually blond with big, brown intense eyes. An amazing friend and very
sympathetic. Good listener and gives good advice. You can usually trust them
with anything. Very sweet girl who is faithful, but not innocent. Cares very
much about the person they love, but just doesn't know how to show it. Not a
whore, but somehow tends to be amazing in bed. Really knows how to seduce a guy and turn them on. Beautiful face, cute, fun, and bubbly personality with a
bangin' body. Knows how to have fun, and is a little bit of a trouble maker.

Save for the whole "bangin' body" part, I'd say that's a pretty accurate description. Now, I just wonder if it was an ex who posted it.

Monday, February 01, 2010

Google Is Spying On Me!!

Some friends were looking up addresses on Google Earth. Where their parents lived, where they lived, etc. Out of curiosity, I told them my address and they plugged it in. There was my house, in all it's glory. Oprah sitting in the driveway, slowly working on the permanent oil stain she would leave to remember her by. Garage door wide open.

"Who's that in the front yard?" someone asked. I peered closer.

Ack!! At the same time the Google Earth Camera drove by, I happened to be doing yard work, right in front of the huge elm tree that shades my entire front yard. My ass for all the world to see.

I wonder if I can get them to come back and shoot a different picture. Preferably, one that didn't have me in it.