Status of the PT...
The friendly guy from the garage called...with a list.
"Be gentle." I said before he started to read off said list.
Some sort of thermostat housing is bad, causing it to rain antifreeze on the belts...hence the squealing. So, I obviously need new belts. Some sort of gasket with the transmission is bad, causing a leak of tranny fluid. Thankfully, they don't have to drop the transmission to fix it.
I also have another bad tire.
Without the tire, we're talking just under $500. Or in other words, my new bathroom tile. At least until next month.
I took Mom to dinner tonight at Corner Cafe before I picked it up from the garage. A big, hairy Italian that kind of looked like Big Pussy from The Sopranos. He was there with his wife/girlfriend/whatever. He was an asshole to his date and the wait staff. Douche. At one point, I was waiting for one more insult before I turned around and dumped my iced tea on his nasty, greasy head.
After dinner, I drained the tile portion of my bathroom remodel budget to pay for the car repairs and came home. I had planned on treating myself to a pedicure, but I figured I blew enough money today and called it good. Tomorrow, I'll go to a real tire store and replace the gimpy tire that's currently on the car.
Now that I have my car back, I have no legitimate excuse to call in tomorrow night.
Shit.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Extreme Makeover: Whiskey Tango Edition
Some saucy little tidbits about the latest show that Extreme Makeover and channel 9 failed to mention (but make for an interesting read).*
-Dan and his wife are on-again, off-again. His wife has been passed around more times than a doobie at a Grateful Dead concert.
-They pissed all the money on vacations, new cars, and crap they can't account for...including a "renewal of vows" in their backyard.
-The ex took the $5000 ring he bought her (with said money mentioned above), pawned it, and ran off with another guy.
-Dan knew about the E.M. house before his wife remarried. He waited to tell her two days after the wedding.
-Her anger was a sight to behold.
-She stalked the family.
-A restraining order had to be taken out against her until after the house was completed.
-All four kids do not live with Dan. Two live with him, two live with the mother...who lives close by. This is so Dan does not have to pay child support.
-Dan has a fifth child (in her early teens) that lives with her mother in North Carolina. Dan has not paid child support in years.
-This daughter did not get to go to Disney with the rest of the family.
-When asked about what type a house he wanted, Daniel said he wanted a two-story log cabin, with a finished basement. And separate living quarters for his Mom.
-When asked where they would like E.M. to send the family for the week vacation, Dan said Ireland.
-Dan didn't want new Ford vehicle. He wanted something different because he just purchased a brand new Ford truck. E.M. told him to just trade in the new vehicle and keep the cash.
-Dan's kids had/have an issue with lice...for at least a year.
-Dumbass mother's solution: "treated" the lice by pouring kerosene on their heads.
-The entire house now has an issue with lice. I hope Ty bought RID before going home.
-Dan's ex is still bitter about not being part of the E.M. experience. In a case of sour grapes, she continues to be a bitch, including dragging the kids into the fray.
-Dan got at least $10K in cash at the viewing party. Chances are fairly good he's not going to pay up on that child support he owes to the daugher he ignores in North Carolina.
-Dan will probably end up taking crazy ex back because he's the world's biggest jackass, and that's what he does.
Yeah, I know he lost a leg and touted as a war hero and blah, blah, blah. This whole situation just illustrates that even douchebags join the military and go to war. Just because you are injured in the line of duty, it doesn't mean it wipes clean your title of Deadbeat Dad. One could argue that karma is the reason he was injured, but that wouldn't explain a network building him a new house. Read the news and you can find 10 more deserving individuals out there.
You have to wonder just how well ABC researches these so-called "deserving" families they build the houses for. The whole situation is disgusting.
I'm never watching ABC again.
*as reported to me by sources close to the family
RDM posted a brilliant take on the Extreme Makeover, and his experience with the military. Check it out.
-Dan and his wife are on-again, off-again. His wife has been passed around more times than a doobie at a Grateful Dead concert.
-Dan's wife left him for an Army recruiter when he got his leg blown off. She could have at least kept it within the Marine Corp.
-A year or so before E.M. approached, both Dan and wife came into large amount of money. Hers from Ford as severance, his from the military. The figures relayed to me were as little as $250K and as much as $400K.-They pissed all the money on vacations, new cars, and crap they can't account for...including a "renewal of vows" in their backyard.
-The ex took the $5000 ring he bought her (with said money mentioned above), pawned it, and ran off with another guy.
-Dan knew about the E.M. house before his wife remarried. He waited to tell her two days after the wedding.
-Her anger was a sight to behold.
-She stalked the family.
-A restraining order had to be taken out against her until after the house was completed.
-All four kids do not live with Dan. Two live with him, two live with the mother...who lives close by. This is so Dan does not have to pay child support.
-Dan has a fifth child (in her early teens) that lives with her mother in North Carolina. Dan has not paid child support in years.
-This daughter did not get to go to Disney with the rest of the family.
-When asked about what type a house he wanted, Daniel said he wanted a two-story log cabin, with a finished basement. And separate living quarters for his Mom.
-When asked where they would like E.M. to send the family for the week vacation, Dan said Ireland.
-Dan didn't want new Ford vehicle. He wanted something different because he just purchased a brand new Ford truck. E.M. told him to just trade in the new vehicle and keep the cash.
-Dan's kids had/have an issue with lice...for at least a year.
-Dumbass mother's solution: "treated" the lice by pouring kerosene on their heads.
-The entire house now has an issue with lice. I hope Ty bought RID before going home.
-Dan's ex is still bitter about not being part of the E.M. experience. In a case of sour grapes, she continues to be a bitch, including dragging the kids into the fray.
-Dan got at least $10K in cash at the viewing party. Chances are fairly good he's not going to pay up on that child support he owes to the daugher he ignores in North Carolina.
-Dan will probably end up taking crazy ex back because he's the world's biggest jackass, and that's what he does.
Yeah, I know he lost a leg and touted as a war hero and blah, blah, blah. This whole situation just illustrates that even douchebags join the military and go to war. Just because you are injured in the line of duty, it doesn't mean it wipes clean your title of Deadbeat Dad. One could argue that karma is the reason he was injured, but that wouldn't explain a network building him a new house. Read the news and you can find 10 more deserving individuals out there.
You have to wonder just how well ABC researches these so-called "deserving" families they build the houses for. The whole situation is disgusting.
I'm never watching ABC again.
*as reported to me by sources close to the family
RDM posted a brilliant take on the Extreme Makeover, and his experience with the military. Check it out.
Happy VD
So, today is Valentine's Day...
Zzzzzzz.
I'm celebrating by taking the PT in to the shop. The belts have been squealing, plus I'm fairly sure there is an oil leak involved. I know it's Valentine's Day and all, but I'm really hoping I don't get bent over and done dry.
The water guy came over yesterday to service my water system. Naturally, they had to send the mentally retarded service tech. In between going from his van to the basement, I'm entertained with stories on how he got his ass reamed by his boss for not checking the oil in his van.
I once had a patient spontaneously bleed from her lungs and she died before my very eyes in what was the biggest, bloodiest code I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing. I'm still traumatized. So, unless your work problems can compete with that...I really, really don't care.
Corky finally replaces the filters and carbon in the system. It takes him so long that Brother is convinced he's just sitting in my basement, masturbating. I decide to just stay upstairs until Corky emerges with his shop vac. I'm sure Brother was wrong, but why take my chances?
Anyway, other than the car getting fixed, I have no big plans. Maybe I will stop somewhere and buy something for myself as no one is going to do it for me. Don't feel bad. I will get exactly what I want, and I won't have to put out for it.
But I will say this: I'm not obligated to observe S&BJ Day. Which is unfortunate because my meat skillz are phenomenal.
I can cook a really good steak.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Lent in my Bellybutton
My friend, Rachel, is a little bit Catholic-obsessed. For lack of a better term, I will call it Catholophile. I must admit, I'm a little of a Catholophile myself. I don't know why I'm so interested. Maybe it's their traditions that date back hundreds of years. Maybe it's their history. I think it may stem from when I used to work with a bunch of older, married Catholic hens, and they learned me in their ways...from Ash Wesdnesday (Why are you wearing dirt on your forehead?), to particular saints (You have a patron saint for television??), to Lent (Lint?).
Ahhh, Lent. I never knew what Lent was until about 7 years ago or so when I overheard a surgeon discussing that he gave up sugar for Lent. Another mentioned chocolate. I grilled the Catholic hens on Lent. The following year, I made one of them give up bitching about people for Lent. A Mormon making a Catholic give up her most favorite thing for 40 days. She made it through (with the help of her peers) and as a reward, I took her to lunch at Andres.
I'm always curious to hear about what people give up for Lent. This year, a Catholic friend told me that they gave up shopping/frivolous spending. A couple days later, they let slip about a shopping excursion they went on that day.
Me: You told me you gave up frivolous spending!
Catholic: It was a housewarming gift.
Me: And you just bought one?
Catholic: Well, they were on sale and I bought a couple.
Me: Ah-hah! You're going to hell.
Catholic: I can always take the others back if I decide I don't want them...
Me: So, what does God do when you break your Lenten promise?
Catholic: I'll try again tomorrow.
Me: When you stand before God, and he cries because you went shopping at Kohls during Lent, what are you going to say to Him??
Catholic: It wasn't even for me. It was a gift for someone else.
Me: That's like saying you're giving up sex for Lent, but you give someone a handjob...or a hummer.
Mormons don't observe Lent. Sure, we have Fast Sunday...which is the first Sunday of every month. We just give up food until dinnertime. However, most the things Catholics give up for Lent, are things Mormons are prohibited from doing anyway...except chocolate.
I should try giving something up for 40 days, just to see what it feels like. Just once. Just the tip.
Blogging? Starbucks? My job?
Now there is a sacrifice I could get behind.
Ahhh, Lent. I never knew what Lent was until about 7 years ago or so when I overheard a surgeon discussing that he gave up sugar for Lent. Another mentioned chocolate. I grilled the Catholic hens on Lent. The following year, I made one of them give up bitching about people for Lent. A Mormon making a Catholic give up her most favorite thing for 40 days. She made it through (with the help of her peers) and as a reward, I took her to lunch at Andres.
I'm always curious to hear about what people give up for Lent. This year, a Catholic friend told me that they gave up shopping/frivolous spending. A couple days later, they let slip about a shopping excursion they went on that day.
Me: You told me you gave up frivolous spending!
Catholic: It was a housewarming gift.
Me: And you just bought one?
Catholic: Well, they were on sale and I bought a couple.
Me: Ah-hah! You're going to hell.
Catholic: I can always take the others back if I decide I don't want them...
Me: So, what does God do when you break your Lenten promise?
Catholic: I'll try again tomorrow.
Me: When you stand before God, and he cries because you went shopping at Kohls during Lent, what are you going to say to Him??
Catholic: It wasn't even for me. It was a gift for someone else.
Me: That's like saying you're giving up sex for Lent, but you give someone a handjob...or a hummer.
Mormons don't observe Lent. Sure, we have Fast Sunday...which is the first Sunday of every month. We just give up food until dinnertime. However, most the things Catholics give up for Lent, are things Mormons are prohibited from doing anyway...except chocolate.
I should try giving something up for 40 days, just to see what it feels like. Just once. Just the tip.
Blogging? Starbucks? My job?
Now there is a sacrifice I could get behind.
Celebrate Wearing of the Raincoat!
February 14-21 is National Condom Week. Because I am a professional nurse, and public health is my interest, I present to you, some handy little slogans for NCW. You know, so you are prepared to rise for the occasion.
1) Cover your stump before you hump
2) Before you attack her, wrap your whacker
3) Don't be silly, protect your Willie
4) When in doubt, shroud you spout
5) Don't be a loner, cover your boner
6) You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong
7) If your not going to sack it, go home and whack it
8) If you think she's spunky, cover your monkey
9) It will be sweeter if you wrap your peter
10) If you slip between her thighs, be sure to condomize
11) If you go into heat, package your meat
12) When you take off her pants and blouse, suit up your mouse
13) Especially in December, gift wrap your member
14) Never ever deck her, with an unwrapped pecker
15) Don't be a fool, vulcanize your tool
16) The right selection, is to protect your erection
17) Wrap it in foil, before you check her oil
18) A crank with armor, will never harm her
19) If you really love her, wear a cover
20) Don't make a mistake, cover your snake
21) Sex is cleaner with a packaged wiener
22) If you can't shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket
23) No glove, no love
24) If you think she'll sigh, cover old one eye
25) Even If she's eager, protect her beaver
26) Avoid a frown, contain your clown
27) Harness the pygmy man before entering the bearded clam
28) Constrain the little head before you stick it in the shed
29) Put a condom on your dink before you dart it in her sink
30) Cloak the joker before you poke her
31) Encase that torch before you paint her porch
32) Cape your throbber before you bob her
33) After detection sheath your erection
34) Don't surprise her, plug your Geyser
35) Protect her wrinkle before you sprinkle
36) House your noodle then release your strudel
37) Put your dog in the pound and make her yelp like a hound
38) Shelter your jerky then nab that turkey
39) Don't be a fool cover your tool
40) Stitch that switch then itch her niche
41) Wrap that tool to catch the drool
42) It ain't no jibe to protect her hive
43) Restrain your log then plow her bog
44) Cover old pete then grind her meat
45) Wrap your bate before you mate
46) Can your worm before you squirm
47) Bag the mole then do her hole
48) Cover your vein then drive her insane
49) Wrap that pickle then slip her a tickle
50) Protect your dink then fluff her mink
51) Hide ole harry then take her cherry
52) Wrap that spout then bore her out
53) Shroud your trout then make her shout
1) Cover your stump before you hump
2) Before you attack her, wrap your whacker
3) Don't be silly, protect your Willie
4) When in doubt, shroud you spout
5) Don't be a loner, cover your boner
6) You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong
7) If your not going to sack it, go home and whack it
8) If you think she's spunky, cover your monkey
9) It will be sweeter if you wrap your peter
10) If you slip between her thighs, be sure to condomize
11) If you go into heat, package your meat
12) When you take off her pants and blouse, suit up your mouse
13) Especially in December, gift wrap your member
14) Never ever deck her, with an unwrapped pecker
15) Don't be a fool, vulcanize your tool
16) The right selection, is to protect your erection
17) Wrap it in foil, before you check her oil
18) A crank with armor, will never harm her
19) If you really love her, wear a cover
20) Don't make a mistake, cover your snake
21) Sex is cleaner with a packaged wiener
22) If you can't shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket
23) No glove, no love
24) If you think she'll sigh, cover old one eye
25) Even If she's eager, protect her beaver
26) Avoid a frown, contain your clown
27) Harness the pygmy man before entering the bearded clam
28) Constrain the little head before you stick it in the shed
29) Put a condom on your dink before you dart it in her sink
30) Cloak the joker before you poke her
31) Encase that torch before you paint her porch
32) Cape your throbber before you bob her
33) After detection sheath your erection
34) Don't surprise her, plug your Geyser
35) Protect her wrinkle before you sprinkle
36) House your noodle then release your strudel
37) Put your dog in the pound and make her yelp like a hound
38) Shelter your jerky then nab that turkey
39) Don't be a fool cover your tool
40) Stitch that switch then itch her niche
41) Wrap that tool to catch the drool
42) It ain't no jibe to protect her hive
43) Restrain your log then plow her bog
44) Cover old pete then grind her meat
45) Wrap your bate before you mate
46) Can your worm before you squirm
47) Bag the mole then do her hole
48) Cover your vein then drive her insane
49) Wrap that pickle then slip her a tickle
50) Protect your dink then fluff her mink
51) Hide ole harry then take her cherry
52) Wrap that spout then bore her out
53) Shroud your trout then make her shout
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Wanted: Computer Nerd
I need a new computer. Well, just the tower. I'm fairly content with everything else.
I've known that it would eventually come to this, but I have outgrown my current tower. I have DSL, but my computer runs like dial-up. It occasionally crashes. Routinely freezes. When this happens, I'm filled with a blind, white-hot rage that has me wanting to grab a baseball bat and beat the shit out of my computer.
Computer usage should not be this way.
I really don't want to go to Best Buy for a new computer because they suck. I bought the current turd from Nebraska Furniture Mart. The only real good computer I've ever owned was built for me by a guy I was dating at the time. While he sucked in bed, he was a wizard with computers.
So, this is my call to the internets...anyone out there interested in building me a new tower? Of course I would pay for it.
This is your chance to save me from going postal on my current tower. I'm really close to doing it. You have no idea...
I've known that it would eventually come to this, but I have outgrown my current tower. I have DSL, but my computer runs like dial-up. It occasionally crashes. Routinely freezes. When this happens, I'm filled with a blind, white-hot rage that has me wanting to grab a baseball bat and beat the shit out of my computer.
Computer usage should not be this way.
I really don't want to go to Best Buy for a new computer because they suck. I bought the current turd from Nebraska Furniture Mart. The only real good computer I've ever owned was built for me by a guy I was dating at the time. While he sucked in bed, he was a wizard with computers.
So, this is my call to the internets...anyone out there interested in building me a new tower? Of course I would pay for it.
This is your chance to save me from going postal on my current tower. I'm really close to doing it. You have no idea...
A Mormon Walks Into a Sex Toy Shop...
At a past blogger meetup, Well Hell Michelle and myself discussed going to Erotic City. Michelle, who is also a peddler of Bobs and beads, wanted to see what they sold in their novelty section. It sounded like fun, and those of you who know me know that I like putting myself in strange situations for writing content later.We had planned to go on two seperate occasions, but no sooner than we made plans, Erotic City was in the news for something scandalous. The first time was the 14 year old guest of honor at an orgy in the basement. The second time, a guy was accosted in one of the booths.
I told Michelle I'd prefer if we didn't visit the basement nor the booths, thank you very much.
Finally, we made a date and went. The Big KC Porn Tour of '08 was about the commence!
But first, dinner at Salty Iguana!
From there, we went to Erotic City...which sits all by itself on a dark section of Truman road. It even looks seedy from the outside. On the door, signs posted that no cameras or videos were allowed (rats!) and they only took cash. The guy sitting behind the counter suspiciously looks at us as we enter. We are the only women in the store. About three other men are there, they all look shifty. At one point, a guy pops out from behind the wall (from the office, I guess), hauls ass over to Michelle and I, and demands to see our I.D. He didn't ask the men for their I.D. Perhaps they were regulars of the store. I stick close to Michelle because I'm afraid of being drug down into the basement. I also refrain from touching anything because I remember that I forgot to bring hand sanitizer.
For the most part, the store was 75% videos, and 25% everything else. By everything else, I mean various items that fit into various orifices, in varying colors, shapes, and sizes. Of note, they sold the inflatable sheep, which I contemplated buying to replace my other sheep that has a leak in it. (Oddly enough, Paul was the last one to be spotted with the sheep before the leak presented itself. I'm sure the two are completely unrelated...)
They also sold some stripper items. Some dinky little lime green outfits and some of the ugliest stripper shoes I've ever seen. All of which covered in dust.
Michelle: Look! Camouflage stripper shoes!
Me: I can't see them.
I'm standing next to Michelle when she whispers "LaChoy!" I look and they are selling LaChoy canned chow mein noodles behind the counter. In addition to cans of soda, Pledge furniture polish, and an economy sized can of Carnation Coffee Creamer.
If there is some sort of fetish out there involving coffee creamer and furniture polish, I'd like to know. On second thought, maybe I don't. Nevermind...
Moving right along!
We stopped at After Hours, which is just up the road from Erotic City. The lighting is a little better, and the person working the counter is a woman (I think). Again, 75% videos and 25% novelties. I spot a small display of Emotion Lotion and have a nostalgic moment from when I was a kid and finding these bottles all over the house. My parents were sex addicts. Connoisseurs of kink. I'm surprised they only had three kids.
We saw a lot of the same stuff we saw at Erotic City, only their videos were grouped according to fetish (I didn't see a section marked Chinese Noodles or Furniture Polish). However, I did see a section dedicated to Midget Porn where you could buy cinematic treasures like Little Whores on the Prairie and Tiny Asian Sluts. (It's not enough to have just Midget Porn, but even Midgets have fetish needs, too. Hence, the Asian Midgets...).I also spotted Pregnancy Porn (porn featuring pregnant women), which leads me to believe that the babies of the, ahem, actresses stand no chance in life once they come out of the womb. There's Geriatric Porn for the sex-charged seniors crowd (or those who find wrinkes sexy). There's Fatty Porn (a free bag of flour with every purchsae). Foot Porn. Cartoon Porn. If you have a hankering for it, chances are pretty good that there is a porn video out there just for you.
Of a more disturbing nature, I discovered there is a market for enema porn. Yes, you read right. Enema porn. I know there is a market for everything, but I'm even mystified by this one. I've given countless enemas. None of them an erotic experience. Some of which just downright terrifying. What's even more disturbing than the presence of enema porn, is the fact that I am wracking my brains trying to think of who I could buy this for as a present. You know, for the person who has everything...After our exploration of After Hours, Michelle and I are somewhat disappointed that our tour of the stores didn't produce more horrifying discoveries. Plus, it was just two stores. I seem to remember seeing another place on 40 Hwy, so we investigate and find that my suspicions were correct. A Naughty But Nice Store. The cleanest of the three and they take Visa or Mastercard.
Nothing really more exciting here. Much of the same, only more organized, and no Chester Molesters milling around. I spot a video with a girl on the front, and she is fugly. Apparently, there is a fetish for ugly porn stars, no??
Michelle buys a souvenir of our adventures, and we call it a night. I don't buy the inflatable sheep. I'm still convinced I can find the leak in my sheep and patch it up because I'm cheap that way, even though a new sheep only cost $7.
Thus concludes the Big KC Porn Tour '08, Winter Edition. This could be a trend...to find porn stores around the area and investigate. Offering a comprehensive review of each...so the masses will know where to go for all their enema porn and inflatable livestock needs.
Remember to bring hand sanitzer!
Saturday, February 09, 2008
I Have That Kind of Luck With Men
I always wanted to have my own cartoon...
Apparently he's looked back on the blog and knows of my lousy relationship track record.
I'm flattered anyway...
Apparently he's looked back on the blog and knows of my lousy relationship track record.
I'm flattered anyway...
The New Look Explained
First off, I must give props to Smeddly for the banner. I mentioned a few ideas I had, and two seconds later I find five variations in my mailbox. He's talented, that Smeddly. I'm going to have to think of more creative uses for him.I've been busy with blog things as of late. First off, trying to get my Yahoo squared away (Not that Yahoo, you sick perverts!) so I will know who updates. When I linked to only a couple blogs, I didn't mind checking daily. Now that my blog list has grown, it's become a pain in the ass to click on every single one, especially when nothing new has been posted. Then, I just felt cheated.
Now, as everyone has hopefully figured out, I'm a nurse. If this is news to you, then you are either not paying attention, or are intellectually challenged (i.e. retarded). However, if this is your first visit, then this really is news to you...and I'll let that slide. At any rate, I figured because I'm a nurse, and that sort of is my "angle" as far as blogging goes, I thought I would make the blog appear more relevant to what I do. Naturally I won't be blogging about being a nurse all the time, but the events posted on this blog do happen to a nurse, even if they are not nursing specific. So, I guess it's all relative.
Perhaps I will add a little more spice later. But this is what I've done with the place for now. Hope you like it. Come by often and make yourself at home.
I'll have the enemas ready.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Polishing the Turd
I will be rolling out a somewhat new look for GB this weekend. Provided I don't crash the computer in the process.
Stay tuned!
Stay tuned!
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Family References Suck and Other Blather
I got a call today from Rent-A-Center. Now, I don't patronize RAC. I think it's ridiculous to pay $1000 for something that you could spend $120 at Hellmart.
I was curious as to why they would be calling me, so I picked up. The guy on the other end told me that I was listed as a reference by my cousin who was applying to rent-to-own something through them, and would I mind answering a few questions?
Okay...
RAC: And what is your relationship with this person?
Me: My cousin.
RAC: And how long have you known this person?
Me: (pausing...is this a loaded question?) Uhhh...my entire life.
RAC: Can you verify her address?
Now, I haven't physically talked to my cousin in months, if not years. The only communication I've had with her was via email and IM.
Me: Uhhh...no. I know she lives in a small town somewhere.
RAC: Podunk? (Not the real name of the town)
Me: Yup! That's the one!
RAC: Okay...can you verify her phone number.
Me: No. I don't know it off the top of my head...but maybe I can find it somewhere.
RAC: That's okay. Can you verify her place of employment?
Me: Not really. I think she's a telemarketer.
RAC: (Rattles of some business that I've never heard of)
Me: Okay...
RAC: Can you vouch for this person as upstanding?
Me: Uhhh...sure.
RAC: So, can we put you down as a contact in case we need to leave her a message?
Me: Ummm...okay.
Shit! In the event she welches on this rental agreement, guess who's going to get the phone calls. For as long as I have known my cousin, I have known her to not exactly be prompt in the paying of the bills department.
There's a reason people buy from Rent-A-Center.
I'm a little annoyed that she put my name down without calling me first. I'm sure RAC guy hung up and thought that I was not only a crappy reference, but a crappy family member for not even knowing where my own cousin lived and how to reach her. That's not entirely true. I can send her an email.
I called my Mom and told her what happened. She thought it was hilarious.
I'm still not amused. I'm changing my phone number.
I was curious as to why they would be calling me, so I picked up. The guy on the other end told me that I was listed as a reference by my cousin who was applying to rent-to-own something through them, and would I mind answering a few questions?
Okay...
RAC: And what is your relationship with this person?
Me: My cousin.
RAC: And how long have you known this person?
Me: (pausing...is this a loaded question?) Uhhh...my entire life.
RAC: Can you verify her address?
Now, I haven't physically talked to my cousin in months, if not years. The only communication I've had with her was via email and IM.
Me: Uhhh...no. I know she lives in a small town somewhere.
RAC: Podunk? (Not the real name of the town)
Me: Yup! That's the one!
RAC: Okay...can you verify her phone number.
Me: No. I don't know it off the top of my head...but maybe I can find it somewhere.
RAC: That's okay. Can you verify her place of employment?
Me: Not really. I think she's a telemarketer.
RAC: (Rattles of some business that I've never heard of)
Me: Okay...
RAC: Can you vouch for this person as upstanding?
Me: Uhhh...sure.
RAC: So, can we put you down as a contact in case we need to leave her a message?
Me: Ummm...okay.
Shit! In the event she welches on this rental agreement, guess who's going to get the phone calls. For as long as I have known my cousin, I have known her to not exactly be prompt in the paying of the bills department.
There's a reason people buy from Rent-A-Center.
I'm a little annoyed that she put my name down without calling me first. I'm sure RAC guy hung up and thought that I was not only a crappy reference, but a crappy family member for not even knowing where my own cousin lived and how to reach her. That's not entirely true. I can send her an email.
I called my Mom and told her what happened. She thought it was hilarious.
I'm still not amused. I'm changing my phone number.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Adventures in Homebuying: Soft Water
Last year, I bought a water treatment system for the house. It all started with a visit to the Home Show. The Hague water people had a booth, and I only asked for more info. Plus, they were offering a free water filter thing for your kitchen. All you have to do is let them in the house so they can test your water and trick you into buying the entire smash.So, water sales guy comes over a few weeks later, and he makes his case, complete with a flip chart. He also tests my water and shows me how disgusting Kansas City water is. He hooks up his portable water treatment filter, and makes me a pitcher of Kool-Aid to show me how wonderful filtered water makes Kool-Aid.
Before I know it, I've leased a water treatment system for the house. Now, I'm not a pushover when it comes to sales. In fact, I'm usually the last holdout. So, you know this guy had to have been good to get me on board.
A few days later, it is installed. They don't let you wait more than a week because that gives you time to think about what you've done, and the last thing they want is for you to cancel. So, water guy not only installs the system, he also leaves 3 years worth of soap behind. Laundry soap, dish soap, body soap, soap for the dishwasher, shampoo, bar soap, multi-purpose cleaner, window cleaner, and a couple things I can't remember off the top of my head. The idea is that now that you have a water treatment system, you don't need to buy soap with softeners in them. You already have the soft water.
To their credit, the laundry soap is actually pretty good. The body soap smells nice. The shampoo sucks. (I still use my overpriced, salon-purchased stuff because I'm a neurotic hair snob.) I don't notice any difference in dish soap, but the dishwasher stuff is pretty nice. I can't use the bar soap because I apparently have a sensitivity to soap with oatmeal in it. (Which worked out because Brother loves the stuff.) Truth be told, I haven't purchased a lot of cleaning items for over a year.
Anyway, a few weeks after installation, a different sales guy comes over to "go over your lease agreement", which translates into "we're going to get you to buy this whole thing outright."
For the longest time, I had a problem with my skin. I itched...constantly. Initially, I thought it was a dry skin issue, but when you sit in a bathtub full of water and all you can do is scratch your legs, I figured it was an allergy. I changed laundry soaps. I changed body washes. I tried lotions, creams, medications. Nothing worked, and it was normal to see me with big welts on my body from excessive scratching. It wasn't until I made the switch to soft water, and I spoke with a dermatologist about it, that it was figured that I have a sensitivity to hard water.
This made it hard to say no to the buying of the water treatment system, not to mention the reverse osmosis water is pretty sweet. Chronic itching left me miserable. Besides, such things like water treatment systems add value to your home when you go to resale...or at least that was the reason I used when I signed the agreement.
Naturally, they asked for referrals. I put a couple names down, one of which being someone that I knew would end up buying the system, because he can't say no to buying anything. In fact, he usually buys multiples of the same item (you know who you are and you can't deny it).
As I predicted, he bought the system (I gloated about how right I was for months after). I was supposed to have gotten something free for the referral, but I heard nothing from the company until this evening when they called to schedule maintenance to the tune of under $200. Out of curiousity, I mentioned my referral that panned out. They asked for the name to confirm that he bought the system.
Low and behold, I get my maintenance for free. I was expecting a clock radio or a tent or something.
That's $200 I can use to pay for a shiny new crown for my tooth! I'm replacing one out of sheer vanity...but I'll post on that later.
Overall, Febraury is shaping up to be a good month. Provided no one tries to seduce me on the internet.
Note to Self
Do not take these meds all at once:
oxycodone
hydrocodone
diazepam
temazepam
alprazolam
doxylamine
And if a patient has all of them ordered...they don't get to have them all at once either.
As you were.
oxycodone
hydrocodone
diazepam
temazepam
alprazolam
doxylamine
And if a patient has all of them ordered...they don't get to have them all at once either.
As you were.
Nurse Follies: Mixed Nuts
A little old lady is wandering around the produce section of HyVee when she is spotted by an employee. Because there is a helpful smile in every isle, the employee approaches and asks if he may be of some assistance.
"Yes, can you tell me where the broccoli is?"
The employee apologizes profusely and explains to the woman that they have run out of broccoli, but are expecting another shipment later that night.
"I see..." says the woman. "Well, then can you tell me which direction I go to find the broccoli?"
Thinking the old lady didn't hear him (as older folks tend to be hard of hearing), the employee apologizes again and explains that they are out of broccoli.
"Oh...ok...well, can you at least point me in the direction of where you keep the broccoli?"
The employee is starting to get a little annoyed, but he again repeats what he said about the store being out of broccoli.
"Hmmmm. Can you show where I can buy the broccoli?"
Reaching his breaking point, the employee says, "Ma'am, can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?" she asks brightly.
"Spell 'cat' as in catastrophe."
"C-A-T"
"Good. Spell 'dog' as in dogmatic."
"D-O-G"
"Good. Now spell 'fuck' as in broccoli."
"There ain't no 'fuck' in broccoli."
"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU!!!"
Sometimes, we have patients who's, shall I say, cheese has slid off their cracker? Nuttier than squirrel shit? A float short of a full parade?? It can be for various reasons. It can be drug-related. It can be part of a pathology. Or it's because they were born back when dirt was clean. Or it's because they used to work as nurses and their jobs haranged them within an inch of their sanity. (Seriously, I've seen too many retired nurses who have completely lost their shit.)
It really doesn't matter why their elevator doesn't go to the top floor, we have to take care of them when they are sick.
But that doesn't make it any easier.
In nursing school, we are taught all these nifty little tools for "therapeutic communication". It's not until you graduate and you begin working in the real world that you realize you pissed away an entire semester and a couple thousand dollars, learning something completely useless.
Patient: (screaming) Kill that snake coming out of the wall!!
Nurse: (calmly) I know you believe that there is a snake coming out of the wall, but I don't see any snakes.
Patient: Fuck you! Call an exterminator!! That snake is going to eat me!!!
If there is one thing that sends me over the edge, it's having to repeat the same thing, to the same person, multiple times. I should only have to say it once. If I have to say it twice, I'm going to think you just weren't listening the first time. I have to repeat it more than that, I'm going to assume you are retarded. The only exception to this rule are those who are almost deaf, and even then I find I can change the resonance of my voice so I can be heard without yelling.
That being said, I don't particularly care for the patients who may have mentally checked out because I have to say the same thing a hundred times in one shift. It's called reorientation...and it never works.
Patient: Where's my daughter?
Me: She went home for the evening. She'll be back in the morning.
Patient: I think she's in there (pointing to the bathroom door).
Me: No, she had to go home. She said she'll be here first thing in the morning. Are you warm enough?
Patient: My daughter has my coat. She's outside waiting for me.
Me: It's 1am. You're daughter is at home in bed.
Patient: Does my daughter know I'm here? I'd better go down to the kitchen and find her.
Me: You're in a hospital. You're daughter knows you are here. She called earlier tonight to check on you. She told me to tell you that she will be here bright and early and she's bringing breakfast. Patient: You're holding me captive!!! I'm going to call the police. HELP! HELP!!
Me: ~Sigh~
My personal favorite is the bathroom conversation. I have it at least once a weekend.
Patient: I have to get out of bed.
Me: Is there something I can help you with?
Patient: I have to get out of bed to go to the bathroom.
Me: The doctor wants you to stay in bed and rest for <insert reason here>
Patient: I have to pee!
Me: (Inspecting catheter to make sure it's working) You have a foley catheter that helps you do that so you don't have to get out of bed.
Patient: I don't care. I have to get out of bed. I have to pee.
Me: See this (holds up catheter tubing). This is your urine. (jiggles tubing so urine sloshes...this is for illustration). This tubing goes into your bladder and drains the urine out. See!
Patient: You're crazy. I have to get out of bed. I have to go downstairs and make dinner.
Me: ~sigh~
This is what I have to look forward to when I retire???
Where's the broccoli?
"Yes, can you tell me where the broccoli is?"
The employee apologizes profusely and explains to the woman that they have run out of broccoli, but are expecting another shipment later that night.
"I see..." says the woman. "Well, then can you tell me which direction I go to find the broccoli?"
Thinking the old lady didn't hear him (as older folks tend to be hard of hearing), the employee apologizes again and explains that they are out of broccoli.
"Oh...ok...well, can you at least point me in the direction of where you keep the broccoli?"
The employee is starting to get a little annoyed, but he again repeats what he said about the store being out of broccoli.
"Hmmmm. Can you show where I can buy the broccoli?"
Reaching his breaking point, the employee says, "Ma'am, can you do me a favor?"
"What's that?" she asks brightly.
"Spell 'cat' as in catastrophe."
"C-A-T"
"Good. Spell 'dog' as in dogmatic."
"D-O-G"
"Good. Now spell 'fuck' as in broccoli."
"There ain't no 'fuck' in broccoli."
"THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU!!!"
Sometimes, we have patients who's, shall I say, cheese has slid off their cracker? Nuttier than squirrel shit? A float short of a full parade?? It can be for various reasons. It can be drug-related. It can be part of a pathology. Or it's because they were born back when dirt was clean. Or it's because they used to work as nurses and their jobs haranged them within an inch of their sanity. (Seriously, I've seen too many retired nurses who have completely lost their shit.)
It really doesn't matter why their elevator doesn't go to the top floor, we have to take care of them when they are sick.
But that doesn't make it any easier.
In nursing school, we are taught all these nifty little tools for "therapeutic communication". It's not until you graduate and you begin working in the real world that you realize you pissed away an entire semester and a couple thousand dollars, learning something completely useless.
Patient: (screaming) Kill that snake coming out of the wall!!
Nurse: (calmly) I know you believe that there is a snake coming out of the wall, but I don't see any snakes.
Patient: Fuck you! Call an exterminator!! That snake is going to eat me!!!
If there is one thing that sends me over the edge, it's having to repeat the same thing, to the same person, multiple times. I should only have to say it once. If I have to say it twice, I'm going to think you just weren't listening the first time. I have to repeat it more than that, I'm going to assume you are retarded. The only exception to this rule are those who are almost deaf, and even then I find I can change the resonance of my voice so I can be heard without yelling.
That being said, I don't particularly care for the patients who may have mentally checked out because I have to say the same thing a hundred times in one shift. It's called reorientation...and it never works.
Patient: Where's my daughter?
Me: She went home for the evening. She'll be back in the morning.
Patient: I think she's in there (pointing to the bathroom door).
Me: No, she had to go home. She said she'll be here first thing in the morning. Are you warm enough?
Patient: My daughter has my coat. She's outside waiting for me.
Me: It's 1am. You're daughter is at home in bed.
Patient: Does my daughter know I'm here? I'd better go down to the kitchen and find her.
Me: You're in a hospital. You're daughter knows you are here. She called earlier tonight to check on you. She told me to tell you that she will be here bright and early and she's bringing breakfast. Patient: You're holding me captive!!! I'm going to call the police. HELP! HELP!!
Me: ~Sigh~
My personal favorite is the bathroom conversation. I have it at least once a weekend.
Patient: I have to get out of bed.
Me: Is there something I can help you with?
Patient: I have to get out of bed to go to the bathroom.
Me: The doctor wants you to stay in bed and rest for <insert reason here>
Patient: I have to pee!
Me: (Inspecting catheter to make sure it's working) You have a foley catheter that helps you do that so you don't have to get out of bed.
Patient: I don't care. I have to get out of bed. I have to pee.
Me: See this (holds up catheter tubing). This is your urine. (jiggles tubing so urine sloshes...this is for illustration). This tubing goes into your bladder and drains the urine out. See!
Patient: You're crazy. I have to get out of bed. I have to go downstairs and make dinner.
Me: ~sigh~
This is what I have to look forward to when I retire???
Where's the broccoli?
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Happy Super Fat Tuesday!!
I didn't go out tonight. Instead, Smo and I went to Jazz after The Presentation. It wasn't very lively. We got our beads (and didn't have to show breasticles), each got a feather mask. Went home.My life is so exciting.
I bet you wish you were me.
Have a safe night celebrating the caucuses.
Presentation Rundown
Because I know all five of my readers are dying to know how it went.
I left a whole hour early because I know that if anything wrong can happen, it will. And where work is concerned, it will happen in the parking garage. So, I haul ass to work, bypassing Starbucks because I didn't want to take my chances.
I get there and as per usual, parking sucks. What is it with people and parking garages? The arrow says go this way, some illiterate asshole decides to go the opposite way, snarling progress and pissing everyone off in the process.
I manage to find a spot, rush inside. I have forty minutes before showtime, so I go to my floor to drop off my coat, but not before becoming nauseated on the elevator as some resident had a plate with tons of pameasan cheese. While parmeasan cheese may be tasty on food, it smells like vomit and smelly gym socks.
Happy Day! The Snapple I forgot to drink on Sunday was still in the employee fridge. Either God was smiling upon me, or I'm the only person who likes Snapple.
I go find the meeting room where this is going to take place. I'm the first one there. Now, I prepared with the idea that I would have a podium. Guess what...no podium. Shit. Now where would I put my notes? What would I hold on to so I wouldn't fall over??
Slowly, people start filing in, about a half dozen were nurses from my floor...including the Bosshole. I told him to go away, but he didn't listen.
Lunch is served, but I declined because I still feel like I'm going to blow chow. From the looks of it, lunch is provided by a drug company. One of the drugs I will be speaking on, in fact. Salad, meat, veggies, pita bread.
Dr. Prestigious gets to go first and he talks about the pathophysiology of our disease process du jour. He has the power point. He has his own laser pointers, which he enthusiastically waves around his power point. Midway through, everyone gets that glazed over look that comes when doctors like listening to the sound of their own voice.
Ideally, these inservices last an hour, with two guest speakers. Each guest speaker gets twenty minutes to talk, followed with five to ten minutes for questions.
Dr. Prestigious takes forty-five minutes.
Ass.
So, it's my turn, and I have fifteen minutes. Ten if you subtract the five minutes it took for the lady who was managing the computer to get my power point loaded after she inadvertantly shut the computer off. So, Heather has ten minutes to give a twenty-five minute presentation.
No pressure!
I manage to do what I like to call the "quick and dirty"...a rapid fire presentation, and I finish in fifteen minutes. I had mountains of notes, extra little bits of info that I had wanted to share, but was unable to do so. I gave the attendees just what they needed to know, and nothing more. Naturally, no one has any questions, and the meeting is done. I'm not overly impressed with my effort because I had to talk 120 miles per hour, but everyone blows sunshine up my butt and tells me it was fabulous, including the Bosshole. I tell him that I will now crawl back into the dark hole that is the night shift, and that I will not be doing this again anytime soon.
"That's what you think", he says.
So, now it's over. I can put the whole thing on my resume, get props for doing it in the first place, and try to forget the whole thing ever happened. Now, I'm back home, in my comfy at-home loungewear. No more business casual for me.
I left a whole hour early because I know that if anything wrong can happen, it will. And where work is concerned, it will happen in the parking garage. So, I haul ass to work, bypassing Starbucks because I didn't want to take my chances.
I get there and as per usual, parking sucks. What is it with people and parking garages? The arrow says go this way, some illiterate asshole decides to go the opposite way, snarling progress and pissing everyone off in the process.
I manage to find a spot, rush inside. I have forty minutes before showtime, so I go to my floor to drop off my coat, but not before becoming nauseated on the elevator as some resident had a plate with tons of pameasan cheese. While parmeasan cheese may be tasty on food, it smells like vomit and smelly gym socks.
Happy Day! The Snapple I forgot to drink on Sunday was still in the employee fridge. Either God was smiling upon me, or I'm the only person who likes Snapple.
I go find the meeting room where this is going to take place. I'm the first one there. Now, I prepared with the idea that I would have a podium. Guess what...no podium. Shit. Now where would I put my notes? What would I hold on to so I wouldn't fall over??
Slowly, people start filing in, about a half dozen were nurses from my floor...including the Bosshole. I told him to go away, but he didn't listen.
Lunch is served, but I declined because I still feel like I'm going to blow chow. From the looks of it, lunch is provided by a drug company. One of the drugs I will be speaking on, in fact. Salad, meat, veggies, pita bread.
Dr. Prestigious gets to go first and he talks about the pathophysiology of our disease process du jour. He has the power point. He has his own laser pointers, which he enthusiastically waves around his power point. Midway through, everyone gets that glazed over look that comes when doctors like listening to the sound of their own voice.
Ideally, these inservices last an hour, with two guest speakers. Each guest speaker gets twenty minutes to talk, followed with five to ten minutes for questions.
Dr. Prestigious takes forty-five minutes.
Ass.
So, it's my turn, and I have fifteen minutes. Ten if you subtract the five minutes it took for the lady who was managing the computer to get my power point loaded after she inadvertantly shut the computer off. So, Heather has ten minutes to give a twenty-five minute presentation.
No pressure!
I manage to do what I like to call the "quick and dirty"...a rapid fire presentation, and I finish in fifteen minutes. I had mountains of notes, extra little bits of info that I had wanted to share, but was unable to do so. I gave the attendees just what they needed to know, and nothing more. Naturally, no one has any questions, and the meeting is done. I'm not overly impressed with my effort because I had to talk 120 miles per hour, but everyone blows sunshine up my butt and tells me it was fabulous, including the Bosshole. I tell him that I will now crawl back into the dark hole that is the night shift, and that I will not be doing this again anytime soon.
"That's what you think", he says.
So, now it's over. I can put the whole thing on my resume, get props for doing it in the first place, and try to forget the whole thing ever happened. Now, I'm back home, in my comfy at-home loungewear. No more business casual for me.
Here I Go!!
I'm leaving to go to work. To give my presentation.
I don't know if I should throw up before I leave, or once I get there. Decisions!
Wish me luck!!
I don't know if I should throw up before I leave, or once I get there. Decisions!
Wish me luck!!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Lost? Or Just Out to Lunch?
Uhhh, so I don't watch this show. I think I'm the only person on the planet that doesn't watch this show. I sometimes say I will, but I've said that about other t.v. shows.
I don't even know who this guy is...
Monday's Musings
I didn't get to see any of the superbowl commercials, and I missed the halftime show (I read it was about as exciting as a warm tapwater enema). I did catch bits and pieces, and the last five minutes of the game. I was in a patient room doing the nurse thing when the game-winning touchdown happened. The husband of the patient and myself danced around the room. The patient sat in bed and was doing a little dance of her own, waving her arms around and grinning wide.
Sometimes, I really like what I do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I totally missed the Soulard Mardi Gras festivities in St. Louis this weekend. I love Mardi Gras, and I'm not even Catholic. I've been to the St. Louis festivities once, and that was years ago. I ended up in a choice viewing location for the parade and getting a shit ton of beads. A group of guys walked by me and I heard one say,"Man, she must've showed her boobs to everyone!!!"
Puh-lease. I don't showcase the dairy cannons for cheap plastic beads.
Now, if they are cheap plastic beads with blinking lights, then we'll talk.
I remember standing in the street with my boyfriend while some college-aged girls were doing the boobs for beads thing from their apartment balcony. Below them were a cluster of guys, cameras at the ready, waiting for the right moment to snap away. I turned and asked my boyfriend what the big deal was. It's not like guys have never seen female breasts before.
"It's not just about seeing the boobs," he explained. "It's the fact that we got strange, random girls to show them to us for two-cent beads."
So, in other words, girls are retarded.
Anyway, I love everything about Mardi Gras. The colors. The traditions. Finding the baby Jesus in the King Cake that usually isn't very tasty, even though I always thought it a little disturbing that people put a baby Jesus figure in a baked confection. I always asked my Catholic friends what it meant if you accidentally cut off His head when you were cutting the cake.
Before I croak, I want to go to New Orleans and experience the real Mardi Gras experience. Anyone want to tag along with me, say, next year??
For now, I'd settle for an impromptu Fat Tuesday gathering here in town. Any takers??
Sometimes, I really like what I do.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I totally missed the Soulard Mardi Gras festivities in St. Louis this weekend. I love Mardi Gras, and I'm not even Catholic. I've been to the St. Louis festivities once, and that was years ago. I ended up in a choice viewing location for the parade and getting a shit ton of beads. A group of guys walked by me and I heard one say,"Man, she must've showed her boobs to everyone!!!"
Puh-lease. I don't showcase the dairy cannons for cheap plastic beads.
Now, if they are cheap plastic beads with blinking lights, then we'll talk.
I remember standing in the street with my boyfriend while some college-aged girls were doing the boobs for beads thing from their apartment balcony. Below them were a cluster of guys, cameras at the ready, waiting for the right moment to snap away. I turned and asked my boyfriend what the big deal was. It's not like guys have never seen female breasts before.
"It's not just about seeing the boobs," he explained. "It's the fact that we got strange, random girls to show them to us for two-cent beads."
So, in other words, girls are retarded.
Anyway, I love everything about Mardi Gras. The colors. The traditions. Finding the baby Jesus in the King Cake that usually isn't very tasty, even though I always thought it a little disturbing that people put a baby Jesus figure in a baked confection. I always asked my Catholic friends what it meant if you accidentally cut off His head when you were cutting the cake.
Before I croak, I want to go to New Orleans and experience the real Mardi Gras experience. Anyone want to tag along with me, say, next year??
For now, I'd settle for an impromptu Fat Tuesday gathering here in town. Any takers??
Saturday, February 02, 2008
But Would He Taste Good In Stew??
Only in America do we look to a fat rodent for weather prediction. Only in America is the rodent as accurate as the weathermen on television.Doesn't this furry bastard always see his shadow??? As if I need the buck-toothed prognosticator to tell me we're going to see more winter. When I go outside, and it's so cold I can practically cut glass, I have a pretty good idea that winter is upon us, and not going away anytime soon.
I guess it gives an entirely new spin to Gobbler's Knob.
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