Learn Something New Everyday

Did you know that once you create a profile on Match, they will not let you delete it? I spent 30 minutes the other day trying to get the site to permanently purge my account. Finally, I just put the profile on "hide" and cancelled. I then get an email from them saying that my profile will be active for one year, and in the event there is no activity on my end, only then will they delete the profile.

So, when an ad on television for Match boasts their membership numbers, they are also including profiles waiting to be deleted.

Dickholes.

Nurse Follies: Back at My OTHER Job...

Dear Experienced Nurse New-Hire,

For veteran nurses, it is understood that you have work experience. Otherwise, the term "veteran nurses" wouldn't exist. You go to work at a new facility as a veteran nurse, it is assumed that you already know fundamental nursing things. Dependent on your previous work history, there may be some degree of expectation that you have a working knowledge of a nursing specialty: ER, ICU, Cardiac, etc.

Your new coworkers may ask you upon the first time of meeting you where you worked before, they are just curious, or making idle conversation during down time or lunch break. Then, it is appropriate to expound on your resume. You can wow us with your experiences, about the time you saved a patient from the brink of death with your ingenuity, a Styrofoam cup, and some duct tape.

However, a little humility goes a long way.

Constantly telling us about your other job wears thin. Especially when you are using it as a comparison to show us that we are doing it all wrong. We don't care. If we did care, we'd work for the crap hole you just came from. And if the other place was so damn perfect, why did you leave them to come work for us in the first place? Oh right, you're other employer is hemorrhaging money and is this close to closing.

At the beginning of the shift, I was gracious. And patient. And fun. I didn't lecture you on nursing, because you've been a nurse longer than I have. I wasn't there to teach you nursing. I was there to teach you ACME Hospital's way of doing things, which apparently is different than the way they do it at Bob's Community Hospital because you were mentioning it every ten minutes. I let it slide because I thought you were nervous. However, when you decided to pick away at how I do things, how I governed the floor when I was in charge because it's not how you do it when you get to be charge nurse, I decided I didn't like you.

So, do not act surprised when you come to me to point out another thing we are doing wrong and openly stating that it's a horrible policy/practice, and I wryly reply, "Oh, that's just because we suck around here."

Twelve hours of this, you got lucky...I only snapped at you once. What you didn't see were my coworkers keeping sharp objects out of my reach.

To orient a new hire, we get paid $2 more an hour. That's $24 extra for one shift, but after taxes is probably closer to $20. So, for twelve hours, I had to listen to, "At my other job..." and was compensated with $20 and high blood pressure.

NOT worth it.

So, thank you, for reminding me why I don't like training new hires. Have fun with the rest of your employment at ACME Hospital, Vortex of Suck (according to you).

Sincerely,
Your Preceptor/Charge Nurse.

The Most Heinous Thing You Will See Today...Or Not

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Nurse Follies: Another Example of Needed Healthcare Reform

The son of one of my mother's friends, took his girlfriend to Liberty Hospital because she fell ill. Not allergies or some pud thing like that. No, she was full on sick. Debilitating sick. Judging from the symptoms, it smacked of swine flu.

Anyway, they go to Liberty and they run a mono test. Negative. They run a strep test. Also negative. They tell her she's going to be discharged and sent home.

But wait, the boyfriend interjects, you didn't test her for swine flu.

Well, it turns out that the girlfriend didn't have insurance. And the test to diagnose H1N1 was too expensive to do on someone who didn't have insurance, and therefore, they refused to do it.

Have a nice day!

Fuckers. I've always disliked that hospital.

Anyway, last I knew, the boyfriend was going to take her to another hospital, one that actually gave two shits about treating sick people and not about money, and hopefully she won't infect anyone else in her travels to seek care.

But what about the law that says a hospital can't deny treatment because of your ability to pay? That only applies to emergent cases. I'd wager that while Liberty will initially treat the uninsured, they immediately ship them to another hospital once they are stable. I don't have to bet money, I've talked to people who have witnessed this firsthand.

Cock sucking assholes.

I'm happy I work at a hospital where we treat anyone, regardless of their inability to pay. I've never once heard a doctor deny treatment to someone because they were uninsured. I've never heard of a patient get preferential treatment because they had better coverage.

So, here's to you, Liberty Hospital. May you choke on your own self-righteousness and may your entire administrative staff get struck down with the clap. Or better, the swine flu.

And may your insurance plan not cover the cure.

Random Things That Make My Head Asplode

Go Daddy Girls. If I see another one of those lame Go-Daddy commercials, I'm going to lob my 25lb Huskers rock at the television. You know those commercials, usually featuring Danica Patrick and someone from the pool of Dumbest Bimbos on the Planet. Just what does web hosting have anything to do with scantily-clad women writhing everywhere sounding like they were all dropped on their heads at birth? Unless GoDaddy is for hosting porn sites. Birthers. If you rounded up the dumbest people in the country, I'd be willing to bet that over 90% of them are card-carrying idiots of the Birther movement. Their sole purpose, the remove that Muslin, Nazi, Kenyon-born guy from office. But don't make any reference to his color, because that's racist, and Birthers aren't racists (even though you would be hard pressed to find a minority in this group). Given proof of Obama's citizenship, they refute it because it doesn't tell them what they want to hear. You can give them mountains of proof all wrapped up in the U.S. Constitution, and their mob mentality will simply not allow them to concede that every single one of them apparently skipped American Civics class in high school. And to top of this train wreck of a sundae, is the woman who apparently leads the movement....Orly Taitz. She's a Jewish lady who lives in California who is a dentist, a real estate agent, and has a GED in law for the state of California only, and the driving force of the Birther movement. I only remark of her Jewish roots because most of the people she is whipping into a mass hysteria are of the white redneck demographic. She wasn't even born in this country. Neither of her parents are American. Did I mention that she leads a movement of people who are rabid about getting a black man out of office by claiming he's not American??

Note the irony. An internet search will reveal the mountains of batshit crazy this women is. I'll leave it to you for when there is nothing good on television. It would almost be funny, until you consider that her attitude promotes the kind of mentality that gets people killed.Jon and Kate. He's a self-centered douche bag, she's a soul-sucking bitch. Together, they make me want drive a go-cart headfirst into a semi truck. No discernible talent (unless you count having a clown-car for a vagina a talent), and yet they are celebrities. Why? WHY?? One can only hope they die in nuclear fire, and their children can be taken care of by loving people who aren't interested in whoring them out for a paycheck. And while that nuclear fire is burning hot, toss in the entire Kardashian clan, everyone who is on a reality show on MTV and VH1. And ABC. And Fox. Oh hell, just toss them all in. But save Top Chef.

Oh, and Kate, I had that same fucking hair style TEN YEARS AGO! Only I wore it better.

Glenn Beck. If you looked up douche bag in Webster's Dictionary, I'm fairly confident you would find this asshat's picture instead of a printed definition. Actually, douche bag is being too nice. They haven't created a word yet that totally encompasses what a complete tool this guy is. Until then, I will have to settle for every other derogatory adjective I can think of.

A friend of mine, the one who wanted me to have NSA sex with him in exchange for a Q'Doba burrito because he happened to have a coupon, is a hard-line conservative. Probably the only person I know who listens to Rush and Mike and enjoys it. He readily admits he likes Glenn Beck because he's an entertainer. No, Bill Cosby is an entertainer. Garth Brooks is an entertainer. This guy is an asshole. The self proclaimed voice of moral clarity and reason, he once called up a colleague's wife and made jokes about the miscarriage she had a few days prior. Yup, quality entertainment! But this guy has thousands of devout fans, even crazier than he is. Beck is also the kind of guy that promotes hysterical, ignorant frenzy amongst the redneck crowd that gets people killed.

Maybe Glenn Beck and Orly Taitz ought to take their legions of batshit crazy followers and relocate to a small island in the Pacific. With lots of grape Kool-aid.

And they can take Jon, Kate, and those Go-Daddy Girls with them.

Nurse Follies: Our Defense Mechanisms

Tony of TKC posted a video of local activist and KC's very own fame whore, Alonzo "Al Sharpton Lite" Washington doing what he likes to do best...incite racism where there is none.

In a nutshell, he plays an audio recording between a police officer and a reporter at a homicide scene. The tone is jovial, light, one could say there are flirtatious undertones between the officer and the reporter.

I can't speculate on the reporter because she was more than likely trying to fish a hot angle for her story by acting more news model than news reporter. Instead, I'm going to offer defense to the officer for being so light about the situation. Alonzo speculates that the tone would be more somber had the crime been committed in a more affluent (i.e. white) neighborhood.

I'm here to say with authority, that it would have made zero difference.

Police came upon a scene with three dead adults, and one dead child. All were murdered. Now, I've never had to come into a murder scene, but I have been engaged in situations with dying patients that evolved in such a matter that doesn't constitute a "normal death process". To be more specific, exsanguination. I've also had the misfortune of seeing a child die during my nursing school rotation. I'm here to tell you, both things can leave someone scarred forever if they have no good way of coping with it.

A lot of times, we use humor to do it. Okay, so it's not your average David Letterman humor. Hell, it's not even humor no comic would dare touch. It's dark. It's dry. It puts our minds in a safe place so we don't go insane with the reality that screams, "OH MY GOD, AM I REALLY SEEING THIS! IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?? JESUS, HOW CAN I STOP IT? I CAN'T STOP IT!!"

From the outside looking in, an observer may think people like us as cold, callous, uncaring, but the truth is that we need our tools for coping so we don't go home and put a gun to our heads later. Sadly, not everyone who works in health care, law enforcement, first responders has developed these defense mechanisms. They either hit burnout and suffer a breakdown, harm themselves, or adopt a nasty addiction.

So, this cops flirts. Big deal. I'm sure it was a much welcome distraction from the fact that he had just seen a murdered 3 year old and 3 murdered adults. These are the things that stay with you, much like the face of that dead child from my nursing school days stays with me so many years after the fact.

We need to disassociate or we go insane.

In conclusion, Alonzo can just shut his pie hole about something he clearly knows nothing about and go back to what he does best: looking like a cheesey douche nozzle in front of a camera.

Within An Inch from Death

I finally got my family trained. They know that when I work a stretch of 2 days or more, I am not to be disturbed during the day because I am sleeping. During that time, I value sleeping more than I value life itself, so unless you've had a limb severed, don't call me. On second thought, just wrap a towel around your bloody stump, put your severed limb in a plastic bag and call an ambulance. Call me when you get out of surgery, and pray to God that I'm not sleeping at the time you call.

So today, I was sleeping soundly, until the doorbell rang. With the ringing of the doorbell, Sam goes apeshit. I have no choice but to get out of bed. I throw on my robe, and stumble down the stairs in a half-awake stupor thinking it's Monday.

On my porch was a young guy, maybe in his early twenties. He announces that he just moved into the area, and is going around meeting all the neighbors. I grunt in reply.

He then begins his well-rehearsed speech on magazine sales. Something, something about winning enough points to go on a trip.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" he asks eagerly.

Seriously? Are we really going to do this?? Did he not notice that I obviously just came out of a coma???

"Back to bed." I replied sourly.

He laughs. Then he begins talking again. A normal person would assess the situation, understand that this is obviously a bad time to be peddling magazines, and excuse himself. A person with survival instincts would know that he was ten seconds from having his head ripped off his body and fed to a small, bushy, white dog, and run away. Not this kid.

Slowly, my brain starts working and I come to understand many things all at once.

First, red flags go off because I've heard reports of scam artists going door-to-door, selling magazines that you will pay too much for, and never receive one issue of.

Second, it's Sunday. Who the hell does this pinhead think he is, coming to my house to "sell" me overpriced magazines on a Sunday?

Third, it's 3pm. My alarm is set to go off at 4pm. Meaning that I stand no chance of falling back asleep once I ditch the assclown. So, not only has this fucker woke me up to try to get me to buy a fake magazine subscription, he has cheated me out of an hour of sleep.

That's grounds for castration.

I tell him I'm not interested. He's apparently deaf, too, because he just drones on, asking me what my favorite magazine is.

I just glare at him. Undeterred, he asks the question again.

I respond by slamming the door in his face. Dickhead.

I tried to get my hour of sleep back. I failed miserably.

I need to find one of those signs that says, "No Soliciting" to hang on my front door. Do those really help? Last week, some pinhead came and tried to sell me a home security system. This week it's magazines. Because they come in threes, I fully expect the Jehovah's Witnesses to make and appearance before the end of the month.

A Letter to AIG

Dear AIG,

I've read with boiling anger the articles which reveal to me the millions in bonuses you are paying out to the very people who have created the problem you find yourselves in.

These same people are your Best and Brightest?

So tell me, what did they do to deserve such large bonuses? Who's knob have they been polishing?

I got a bonus with my job. A gift card to Price Chopper. While I don't disparage the gift card (it came in handy for holiday dinner spending), I just want to point out that my job routinely involves me making decisions that could affect the life (or death) of a patient, and my annual income is probably what most AIG execs spend on a car.

I save lives. You help run our country's financial system into the ground. Tell me why you need those bonuses again?

My retirement plan is through AIG. I'm looking at moving it to another firm, just because I can't stand you that much and I can only hope you get sick enough that I get to be your nurse someday.

Fuck you and the high horse you apparently think you are entitled to ride on.

Sincerely,
General Blather

On This Snowy Saturday...

Getting home from work was LOADS of fun. All roads, including the interstate, were untouched. Some assclown decided that when there is snow on the ground, red lights are merely a suggestion and almost plowed into me as I was crossing the intersection.

I-70 caked with snow, and not a plow is sight. However, there was the tool in the Ford truck who defiled it by putting low-profile dubs on his POS. Then had the audacity to wonder why his truck was spinning in circles in the middle of the interstate. He deserved a pecker slap just for doing that to an F-150, and rust holes big enough to fit my head through.

Let's not mention the 4 car pile up on I-70.

Or what about almost getting run off the road by a snow plow on Blue Ridge because he wouldn't get in his own fucking lane when he saw an oncoming car...me. Douche!

A city that works? My ass!!!

Well Ain't That Just a Happy Crappy!

My tire has been going flat as of late, so Saturday, I dropped it off at the tire place. When it was ready, they called Mom so I would not be disturbed.

One new tire for a PT Cruiser...$130.

So, imagine my, uh, chagrin this morning when I got off work, came out into the buttass cold parking garage, to find that same tire flat.

Flat! Flat! FLAT!!!!

Pissed, I called Mom, who came and picked me up from work. Mr. Recommendation has an air tank we are going to fill and take with when they take me back to work tonight. I can only hope the retarded Parking Nazis don't ticket my car for taking up choice parking during the daytime.

And in the morning, I'm going to go blow the roof off of the tire place.

There are some moments that I encounter people in the business sector that provide service so heinous, that I wish they could come visit me on my turf, so I could give them a taste of their own medicine.

A Letter to KC Meteorologists

Dear Weather People of Kansas City,

You guys suck.

You went on about KC getting one inch of snow, but now, we are told that at least 3 inches fell in Kansas City.

Most women (and some men) will tell that there is a big difference between 1 inch and 3 inches.

Sometimes, I think you use the Redneck Weather Forecast Module to get your weather information. You know the kind...you hang it outside. If it's wet, it's raining. If it's covered in cold, white stuff, it's snowing. If it's gone, someone stole it and you need to get another one.

Go back to school so you can get it right, assholes.

Sincerely,
Those Required to Drive in This Crap

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!!

Friday's Blather

I was up until 3am or so this morning talking on the phone with New Guy. The phone call was supposed to have been a short one. He was tired. I was tired. However, what was supposed to be a short conversation ended up being a little over 4 hours long.

Don't ask me what we talk about...I promised not to blog about it (he's smart, this one).

After the call ended, I went to bed and slept until 8:30 when I woke up on my own, and realized I missed Indy's call for breakfast. Oops. I got up anyway, dressed, went to the store for essentials, and came home. I crawled back into bed, intending for a good nap before work.

Brother had a tattoo slated for this afternoon, and his "client" brought over some little yap-yap dog with a high-pitched bark which continued long after he put the dog in the back yard with Hank and Sam. Put a yap-yap dog, a 5-month old Saint Bernard, and an American Eskimo in a yard and have them bark in unison = no sleep for Heather.

I finally dozed off when the doorbell rang. I waited and when it was evident Brother was not going to answer it, I did. It was some schmuck from Time Warner wanting me to switch service. He was a bit of a douche about it, especially when I told him I wasn't interested. He wanted to know what I paid for my dish-phones-computer bundle (NUNYA!). I told him three times I wasn't interested, but he wasn't to be deterred. I even caught myself nodding off during his sales pitch. Hello??? Did he not notice the pajamas and messed up hair???

Finally, I said "no thanks" and shut the door. Bitchy? Probably, but dammit, when I say no, go away.

I've been having problems with people calling during my prime sleeping hours. I've decided to collect all the numbers of the offending parties, and I will be making some calls this weekend. All starting at 1am.

KCMSD:Shit or Get Off the Pot

I've been reading with interest all the hooplah regarding the Kansas City School District and their last ditch attempts to derail the Independence School District and blah, blah, blah. By now, everyone knows about how the KCMSD is behaving like bitchy ex-wives dividing property with their ex-husbands. It's not because they want the property in question, it's because they are bitter and want the Independence people to be just as miserable as they are.

From what I can see, Independence only wants to get ready for the school year. To do right by the families and children they serve. To behave as an education system should. KCMSD, on the other hand, has seemingly forgotten just why the hell they are even there.

Up until moving to the "big city", I lived in small, rural towns. The education systems are almost always the same. The school board is primarily composed of people who actually have children attending the schools. The actions of the school boards are governed by the needs to the very people they serve.

I look at the board members of the KCMO district, and I see nothing that reflects a true desire to help children learn and succeed. The board is more interested in money, and politics, and their own self preservation that they have forgotten just who they work for. The school district has no accreditation, and I don't see any attempt at getting it back. The buildings are falling apart. They go through superintendents like Paris Hilton goes through sexual partners.

The system is a failure. A complete and total failure. Everyone knows it, and finally the parents of Independence did something about it and voted the remaining Independence schools left in the sinking ship district to a district that actually gives two shits about whether their kids can read past a 4th grade level.

If I had my way, I'd remove every single one of the blood-sucking bastards from the KCMO School District and replace them with people who were genuinely concerned about the educating of children. How would you know who to pick? Just make the school board positions either no-paying or low-paying positions so those who were still interested were not in it for the money. That's how it works in rural areas. Hell, I'd even participate if it meant that kids actually learned how to add and subtract, instead of how to bang on an African drum.

I can't hardly bare to read anything about the KCMSD anymore, it makes me sick and puts me into a blind rage.

I need to go now and take a breather...

July Festivities at General Blather

Ummm, I worked. It sucked. Ever had a day where your 12-hour deodorant gives up at the 6th hour? Yeah, that was my night. I spent the better part of the evening thinking I was going to vomit because I was a bundle of nerves. I will be so happy when this post-surgical funk passes and I'm back to my normal, confident, asshole self.

Anyway, our night didn't suck because we had an influx of admits. Our floor only got one and it was some pud med-surg problem. However, the helipad is directly above us, and I think helicopters landed 10 times. Some pilots land better than others. The bad ones cause the entire building the shake and it takes at least ten minutes for the exhaust fumes to dissipate.

Apparently, KC Star printed a coupon we didn't know about...buy one trauma, get the second one half off. The injuries, naturally, involved fireworks, or people falling into campfires, or just being drunk douche bags. Is this July the cutoff for the Darwin Awards??

Botards.

At least I wasn't Indy. He got to float around the hospital and bonded with a young lady who revealed to him that she had "the runs". Lucky guy. I should try using this line sometime and see if it makes men swoon.

At any rate, my night sucked. I was the captain of the shaky ship, and I'm still a ball of nerves. And it's July, so we have the annual influx of new residents. Lucky us, we got the dumbest fucking resident on the planet. I'm pretty sure she paid someone to do her homework when she was in medical school...she couldn't find her ass with two hands.

If Dr. Dumbass is any indicator for the rest of the newbie residents I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, this is going to be a long year. God help me and God help our patients.

I should save up my PTO and just take the entire month of July off next year. I wonder if Bosshole would approve it...

The only silver lining was the delicious bbq rib dinner Mom made. It was good...we're talking rub it on your bare nipples good. It was so awesome, I got leftovers to take to work. Of course I had to eat it in five minute increments, but it was still good. It was the best. She makes the best ribs ever and I will pit her ribs against anyone else's ribs. If anyone thinks they can do better, they can kiss my fat ass. Which probably where the ribs will end up anyway.

On that note, I'm going to bed.

Seriously??

I just read that the father of the Gardner teen that died in a fight is going to stand trial for threatening some people. This bothers me on so many levels.

The guy just lost his son for something that could have been avoided. Yeah, he may have not started the fight with the deliberate intention to kill the kid, but he did run away and not bother to call for help. Show me a parent who would have reacted differently, and I will show you an uncaring bastard. I don't have kids, and yet I know that if something like this were to happen to one of my family members, the gloves come off, and I'm going to rain a shit storm on the responsible party. That's how I roll.

Kline has clinched his title of Worlds Biggest Douche bag to allow this case to even go to trial. He needs to just drop it and let this family grieve privately, rather than pour salt on an already bleeding wound.

This almost qualifies for the Ray Nagin Dumbass Award*. Oh hell...Kline, I'm sure, has a mantle full of the little bastards anyway.

It's times like this that I'm grateful I don't live in Johnson County. Kline is an embarrassment, and I really feel bad for my counterparts across the state line.

(*The Ray Nagin Dumbass Award is an award given to those in the public eye who do or say stupid things that indicate their IQ is that of a sponge.)

UPDATE: An online petition is currently seeking signatures of those who also wish for this case to be dropped. Go to this page to sign.

Are You Kidding Me?

I just read this story about a mom and her autistic kid that was kicked off the airplane. It enrages me on so many levels...

RALEIGH-DURHAM, N.C. -- A mother and her 2-year-old son were kicked off an American Eagle flight at the Raleigh-Durham airport, WTVD-TV in Raleigh-Durham, N.C., reported.
Officials said that the plane was taxiing to a runway when Jarrett Farrell began to get upset as the plane was in motion.

His mother, Janice Farrell, told WTVD-TV that she did everything she could to calm down her child but received little help from the flight crew.

Since when it is the flight crew's responsibility to help you control your child???

"If they just would have been a little more understanding, I think that none of this would have been a problem," Farrell told WTVD-TV. "He just melted down. He saw me getting upset. He was upset. He was on the floor rolling around."

Farrell said after a while, one of the pilots came back to where they were seated and gave the pair a warning.

As he should have...

When Jarrett failed to calm down after that, the pilot returned to the cockpit and turned the plane around, Farrell said.

"The pilot made an announcement that there was a woman and her child on the plane and the child is uncontrollable. And at that point, I just broke down," Farrell told WTVD-TV.

She said when they returned home to Cary, N.C., she and her husband made a decision to call American Airlines corporate office. She said a representative on the phone apologized for the incident and told her is should not have happened.

What? What shouldn't have happened? Her getting kicked off the plane or her not being able to control her child?? I'm confused. Had I been a passenger on that plane, and this behavior would have been allowed to continue for the entire flight, I would have been supremely pissed. You know, some people are nervous enough when flying anyway. Add a screaming child in there, and you have the perfect recipe for nervous breakdown by the end of the flight. No person has the kind of constitution that would enable them to survive a flight like this without needing any type of therapy after.

Look, I know I'm an asshole, but I'm not a complete moron. I understand that autistic children really can't help themselves. I understand that it takes a special kind of parent to be able to raise an autistic child. But really, if you have an autistic kid, and that kid doesn't tolerate flying...take another means of transport. Train? Bus? Drive your own damn car?

Autism aside, it really pisses me off when I am in a public place, and parents let their little snowflakes run rampant. It pisses me off even more when management of said public establishments don't put their foot down. The fact that American Airlines states that she shouldn't have been kicked off the plane tells me that I really need to avoid flying with this airline altogether. I was heading in that direction anyway when they decided to start nickel and diming me to death just to fly.

Southwest is my new bitch.

A Town Worthy of a Darwin Event

I rolled my eyes when I read about that town where a large number of teenagers got pregnant, making a pact to do so. Just when I think the pubescent demographic couldn't get anymore retarded, stuff like this happens and completely blows my mind.

So, if terrorists decided to drop a bomb on this entire town, I think they would be doing the world a favor. So many stupid pro-creators, living in one small area, is just asking for a Darwin event to help thin out the herd. Especially that one girl who got pregnant by a homeless guy. Ewww. This baby is pretty much screwed. How does one cope with the fact that you mom was a blatant whorette who slept with some homeless guy so she could get pregnant??

When I was a teenager, yes, teen pregnancy existed, but it was still considered something of a major screw-up. I don't want to say it was a "dirty little secret", but it was. The teenage moms were certainly not proud of it. They just had their babies, quietly. If they were lucky, they had supportive families and they were able to finish high school. There was no in-school daycare. Girls did not get pregnant just because they thought babies were cute and they would like have one, and having a baby shower and get free shit would be totally awesome. No, pregnancies usually happened because birth control failed or they just didn't use any.

The stigma of being an unwed pregnant teenage mother was enough to terrify me into not having sex when I was in high school. I had a great, big fear of the penis. (A fear, that I am happy to report, that I have overcome.) I think the stigma that came with being an unwed pregnant teenager was enough for most girls to take extra measures to prevent it, or just abstain from sex altogether.

I don't know when the stigma of pregnant teenagers changed. It's not a big deal anymore (of which I think is bullshit). Maybe I'm just old fashioned, but I still believe that there is something fundamentally wrong with society being okay with a 16 year old getting knocked up. Girls, lacking the maturity to care for a hamster, are getting pregnant because they think it will be fun, or it will fill some kind of void in their lives, or because some dumbass celebrity did it and it would be so cool, or for some other asinine reason.

Whenever I read about the Pregnancy Pact and the details that are emerging, I just can't wrap my mind around it. I don't even want to think about what is going to become of these babies. It's a sad story, and it makes my hope for humanity die just a little bit more.

Tuesday Blather...It Is Tuesday, Isn't It??

Today was a fun-filled day, starting out by visiting the Fifth Circle of Hell again. They isolated my knee stiffness problem to some nodules formed on my tendons, not to mention that my hamstring is completely useless right now. So, Happy Helperton of the physical therapy department, proceeds to work out those nodules. Manually. I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. She tried to be cheerful during the process. People should never be cheerful when purposely inflicting pain. It pisses people off and they just want to kick you in the head. Four years of nursing has taught me this valuable lesson.

From there, I go to the Pull My Knob store to inquire about hinges. I want to replace the ugly brass looking ones with white, only they don't sell my kind of hinges in white. I ask the guy what he would suggest. "Paint 'em" he says. Butthole.

From there, I go back home and eat a bologna sandwich. That's all I have time for as I get back into my car and head out to BFE, Johnson County for my one month follow-up.

My appointment was at 1:30. When I get there (on time), I find the waiting room is filled with people. All there to see one doctor, who happens to be the guy who operated on my knee. This doesn't bode well.

An hour and a half later, I am starting to see white spots, I'm so angry. Just when I'm about to go to the front desk and go postal, I'm called to the back. The nurse is all chipper and asks me how my day is going. Seriously?? I only grunt a reply. She doesn't say another word. Her intelligence belies her looks.

(Honestly, if I have an appointment, I expect to be seen within 15-30 minutes upon arriving. If you don't plan on seeing me for an hour, then make my appointment for an hour later. This is the one thing about doctors that pisses me off. They overbook. It's a travesty, and if I did my job in such a manner, someone would probably die.)

Another 30 minutes waiting in an exam room, and I finally get to see my doctor...who tells me that all the stiffness, the pain, the angst, the nodules, the crying at beer commercials...it's all perfectly normal, and it could be at least 2-3 months before I will notice how well the surgery worked. He writes me an order for a brace to wear at work, and some more Percocet, and blows out of my exam room, having been in there for less than 10 minutes.

I finally get to go home. Too tired to cook, I offer to take Brother for a quick dinner at the nearby Chinese restaurant. He accepts. We go. We eat. We come home to find Mr. Recommendation and the Rocket Scientist leveling my kitchen oven so that when I bake cakes, they are not five inches on one side, and one inch on the other.

I take a two hour nap, wake up, pop some Percocet, ice the knee, and seal the grout in the kitchen. For those who have never sealed grout while on Percocet...it's just as boring a job as it would have been without the Percocet. You know, just in case you were wondering.

The kitchen is almost complete. Tomorrow, I shall begin painting the cabinets. It's going to be a magical experience, I'm sure.

I'll post pics soon.

Dear Botoxed Prune-Faced Old Crone,

I'm fairly certain you were more than aware that you cut in line, in front of me, at the Independence Costco today. You, in your fugly orange flowered wrap around skirt and matching shirt, and enough makeup on to spackle my bathroom, just walked right in front of the strawberry blonde with the noticeable limp. You were carrying your big-assed box of four items, apparently felt that because you had less, you deserved to go before me. Or maybe it was because you thought you were dressed better. Or maybe you're just one of those people who think your better than everyone. Maybe you happen to live in Leawood.

For whatever reason, you dared not look in my general direction, probably because you could feel my Glare of Death penetrating the back of your old, wrinkled neck. Had you just looked and offered an apology, or even the lame, "I didn't notice you there" excuse, I could have let it slide. But no, you just stood there, ignoring the woman who looked very pained and annoyed because she had a severely hurting leg, and had run out of pain meds two days prior.

I almost opened up a can of verbal whoopass on you, but out of respect for my mother (who was with me) I didn't. I could had made a scathing remark about me deferring to snooty old women because their time on earth is limited and are always in a hurry, but I didn't.

I also didn't say anything because I noticed of the four items you had purchased, three of which were dog treats. (A jar of peanut butter for the weekends was noticeably absent.) I realized that all you have to go home to are your little yapping dogs named Fifi, Fluffy, Sugar Poo, and Buffy. And that you probably were married at some point, but your husband got tired of being married to a snooty sea cow and ran off with his much more attractive secretary. At least she took it up the ass.

As you literally hauled ass out of the store (probably to avoid me going postal on your wrinkled ass), my Mother looked at me and said with the sage wisdom of someone who has been on the planet longer than me, "What a bitter old bitch!"

So, have fun with your dogs. Meanwhile, I will bide my time and wait for you to come in with some botched plastic surgery or something old-people-related. Pay back's a bitch and I am RN. That's means I possess the knowledge to make you have a really bad day.

Angel of Mercy, my ass.

Sincerely,
Heather