Retchin' Gretchen

I like all types of music...so labeling me as a "country music fan" or "rockaholic" doesn't really apply. Bad music occurs in all genres. I'm here today to expound on one of those examples: Gretchen Wilson.

I hate Gretchen Wilson with the fire of a thousand hot suns, or rather, her music and what she has come to represent AND glorify. Once you get past the voice that sounds like its coming from the back of her nose, you get to the message.

"I'm uneducated white trash and that is a good thing. Everyone should have lots of babies with different dad's and live in a trailer park on welfare."

The recent controversy stems from her song (of which I am delighted that I've never heard) "Skoal Ring". She loves chew, and she gets turned on when she tastes it on her man's lips. (Writer pauses while reader fights back waves of nausea.) If she were to tell me she was dating a chemist, I would automatically assume its just some guy who has his own meth lab.

Wilson has come to represent everything bad that people think about country music; the very stereotypes that good country artists are trying to debunk. She sucks...and I can't wait for her 15 minutes to end so she can slip back to obscurity. In fact, I will be very happy when this whole "Trailer Park Chic" fad wanes and goes by the way of the trucker hat.

I'll just stick to the women of country to who still have class and style: Martina McBride, Faith Hill and Patsy Cline. At least these women can actually carry a tune.

PT Cruiser Convention...KC Edition

Being the owner of a PT Cruiser, I was able to attend the PT Cruiser's Club National Convention, right here in my back yard (well, sort of). Friday night, there was a T-Bones game followed by a "Show and Glow". I did not participate in this event seeing how the only thing that glows on my car are the headlights, but I did peruse the other cars...all dressed up for people to see. Some cars had themes...your standard cute junk like Betty Boop, teddy bears and fairies; some college worshippers (K-State and Nebraska), some featured dragons, spiders, and one lady had her car themed with cats...which included a large pair of cat ears on the top and a long tail on the back. Then, some peope abandon all sense and reason and create what I have dubbed the "More Dollars Than Sense" cars. Some guy from Texas had his on hydraulic lifts, spinners, fancy doors that open skyward, plus a Playstation set-up for each passenger...it looked like it came from one of the "Pimp My Ride" shows. Another couple from Oklahoma had their PT equipped car with the same doors, strobe lights and a fog machine. Whenever someone would get to close to the car, the woman's head would fly off her shoulders, spin 360 degrees, and land on back on her shoulders before she would exhale a stream of fire and a tirade upon the unfortunate individual who got too close. Honestly, if you don't want people touching your car...take a page out of real car shows and put up ropes or some sort of barricade! I was hoping for the guy from Texas to win just because the lady from Oklahoma was a real mean cow.

Today, it was hot as all getout. Everyone was showing their cars, a couple vendors were there peddling car-customizing stuff (I relented and had some small flames and a pinstripe added to my car). There was a big raffle, and I won a couple items...something I can give to my nephew for Christmas, a new coffee maker (which will come in handy when Mom comes to stay with me), and some brakelight covers for my PT. After all the booty was given away, we lined up and drove to the Kansas Raceway. There had to been at least 100 PT Cruisers...of many shapes and colors. The wait to get on the track might not have seemed so long if someone would have forseen that we would be roasting, and thought to set up some sort of beverage station or something.

I got to drive around the track on two separate instances. The first was was fun, but I was right behind the pace car, and I didn't get to go as fast as the people behind me. So the next time, I made sure I was toward the back of the line so I could allow some distance to pass between me and the next car...then I floored it. Talk about a rush! I wasn't aware that my car could go that fast, but it held up well, and not once did I hit the wall. I'm not a huge NASCAR fan, and this experience didn't make me one...but if someone offered me the chance to drive a real car around the track without a pace car in front of me...I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to it. :o)

So now I am home. I opted not to go to the awards thing tonight. I was too tired, too dehydrated, and I really didn't care. I think I almost fell asleep in my car waiting for my turn to drive on the track. I got my daybed set up, and I think I will spend the rest of the evening in my nice cool apartment, drinking whatever I can put ice cubes in.

Welcome to my new roomie!

So, my parents have finally found a buyer for their house. They close next month on the 8th, my mother is moving in with me on the 12th until she finds a job down at the lake, or one month...whichever happens to come first as Jerry has given her only 1 month to stay with me. This is fine, I imagine he would much rather have his wife with him than over a hundred miles away.

In the meanwhile, I have been preparing the second room for her pending stay. My new furniture is delivered on Friday. Fun for me.

My mother is very excited at the prospect of "quality time" spent with her only daughter. "We're going to have fun!" she chirps and giggles in such a way that leaves me worried. The last time we "had fun", I had to shell out $25 on the largest straw sombrero with VIVA MEXICO on the front, then half dragging her back to a cruise ship while she is singing loudly about how much she loves tequila. She did wonder where she could find the best margarita in Kansas City, making it sound like a possible quest while she is staying with me. Needless to say, I am concerned.

Any other time, I don't know that I would entertain the thought of having another roommate (being married would be a different story entirely). I tried that back in the day when I was poor and going through school. You have to deal with their habits and such (like having their 11 brothers and sisters over all at once for dinner). Financially, it is a sound idea for a lot of people, and most people can make the roommate situation work for them. I, however, like my own space. I know where most everything is in my apartment, and I never have to worry about a roomie's Neanderthal boyfriend coming over to vegetate on my couch, eat my food, and make really, really retarded comments while trying to sound like their IQ is over 70. Been there, done that, have the t-shirt. It's impossible to set limits when the other party is paying half the rent, as some of my more unfortunate friends have discovered.

On the up side, my mother has hinted at the possibility of Mom-Cooked Meals...of which I currently only get on holidays. She might also be handy for cleaning and walking the dog. Not to mention I can show her some really neat places in the area, not to mention assist her in her quest to find KC's Most Perfect Margarita. She will need someone to drive her.

But I draw the line at buying another sombrero.

Ahhh...the people you meet!

My friend Kristi and myself have been known to go out late at night. Being both night nurses, we do stuff so we can stay up late, usually on a night before we have to go in and work. This makes sleeping during the day more easier, and it is just something fun to do. Our usual activity is going to the Brass Rail to play pool. The Brass Rail is a nice place...only 75 cents a table, very clean, and the food is good. Kristi is rather good at playing pool. I suck something awful. Out of 10 shots, I might have one or two good ones, and I could never play on a regulation table because they are roughly the size of a football field...but this doesn't dissuade me from my dream of being a pool shark someday. Anyway, we go, have some nachos, some sodas (hers usually spiked with the Captain), she kicks my butt in pool, and we always attract the biggest dorks in the entire establishment. Last night being no exception.

So, our table is next to the jukebox...which happens to be playing every crappy country song on the planet. Our table also is next to one where two guys are playing, I am guessing to be in their late 40's, early 50's. One is short, flashy and loud, the other tall, quiet and wearing a pink shirt. Inevitibly, the flashy one meanders over and wants to play doubles. The pink-shirt guy and Kristi play as a team, and of course, I get the loud one. Pink-shirt guy is Mensa, a graduate of West Point, and most importantly...plays in a pool league. Loudy owns his own business and is more focused on bragging than he is playing. Predictably...we lost every game. You know the type...he measures his success in life by what he owns and who he knows. He spent a lot of time dropping names, apparently hoping to impress. Neither Kristi nor myself care. Pink shirt guy keeps quiet, maybe he is embarassed to be friends with such a weiner.

Inevitably, conversation turns to our profession...registered nurses with a level one trauma center. Loudy then expounds on why we shouldn't treat "them". Those inner city crack heads that shoot themselves...Loudy thinks we should just let them kill each other off, and he even suggested that we should help. This launched Kristi into a long tirade with the guy, who apparently saw things in terms of "us vs. them"...us being people who had money, and them being everyone else who didn't. Us also being everyone who was white, them being everyone else. I was waiting patiently for Kristi to haul off and bitch-slap him, I was actually hoping for it. Pink-shirt guy is just remaining quiet and playing pool. Eventually, it was just him and I playing because the other two were in heated discussion. Pink-shirt guy felt sorry I sucked to bad at pool, he eventually just started giving me tips. As for his opinion of the night's topic of discussion..."Garbage comes in all colors".

Apparently, it also comes with different sized bank accounts.

The garbage comment was kind of iroinic because it turns out pink-shirt guy owned a garbage hauling business in my old hometown. I guess you couldn't find a greater authority on trash. I almost asked him if Loudy was someone he found on a route...but I thought better of it.

Loudy said he would never come to our hospital beause of the patients we saw. Kristi and I decided that was probably a blessing in disguise because we wouldn't like to take care of someone like him. We would do it, though, if it came down to it because if it were my family member laying in that bed...I would want someone to take care of them, without giving thought to race, creed, socioeconomic status or otherwise. I may not like what my patient's do in their life...but at the end of the day, I don't have to answer for it. As long as I know I've done the best I can do, I can sleep at night...or during the day.

The Blathering Blonde

One of my truly bestest friends in the whole wide world, Kant, is reconsidering her packrat ways and perhaps doing a major restructuring of her life in the physical sense. Many a business have cropped up offering to help simplify your life in terms of junk around the house. Handy...I've been attempting to do this very same thing since I finished nursing school, and I have actually made some headway. I'm sure my neighbors await with sadistic glee to see what else I am pitching into the garbage bin. Honestly, who needs two vacuum cleaners anyway??

As of lately, I've been hiding out at Nebraska Furniture Mart, waiting for that next great bargain. Instead of an apartment that looks at though a poor college student lives in it, I'm going more for an apartment that looks as though it is inhabited by a working professional. Nothing ostentatious, but everything simple...and matching. Lately, I've become obsessed with my spare bedroom, which until now has been used mostly for storage, and Sam's kennel. I tossed out a lot of junk, moved much to a storage shed to be gone through later for prospective Ebay auctions. I visited NFM and dropped a wad of dough on a new daybed, a white computer armoire, and am planning on painting my old dresser white to match....my white dog will even match the room. After giving much thought, I realized my guest room/office is now the bedroom I had always wanted when I was a teenager. My daybed will be filled with pillows so I can have my little reading alcove to pour over great books. My computer workstation so I can create a great book of my own.

But I digress.

As Kant says, being organized is somewhat of a lifestyle change. I'm sort of an obsessed organized person at work...not so much at home. Instead of everything in its place at home, I prefer to have an everything in its place sort of life. Every relationship, interpersonal or otherwise, has its own place and distinct purpose. Everything has a point. Everything is simple. Only my job is complicated, but when I clock out and walk out of those double doors, the hospital ceases to exist. I don't have a ginormous circle of friends...quality, not quantity. Each relationship unique and special to me. Lately, even some of my relationships have become complicated, or just painfully one-sided...and it is driving me nuts. I guess I should, as my friend Woody sometimes says, "Fish or cut bait."

I've been considering taking a travel nurse assignment after the first of the year...probably to someplace where it doesn't snow. It's a big step, and wildly scary...to go where no one knows you and establish roots all over again...even if it is for 3 months. However, I am 30...and already most of the people I have known in life have gone on to settle down, have families and so on. Sometimes, I can't help but feel as though life has passed me by...even though I am told by some friends that they are envious that I have the freedom to come and go as I please with little obligation.

So maybe all my problems would be solved if I did a decluttering of life...again. I have an old microwave cart I need to pitch anyway.

Another CFR draws to a close...

CFR, or Charpie Family Reunion to you, has gone off with a smashing success. No bad accidents, no hostile family squabbles. I do believe that my family caused the stock of Anheuser-Busch to soar for the week as it seemed that is all anyone would drink.

About 80% of the family stayed in campers out at a campsite, which was the primary meeting place every night. Everyone else who didn't have to "rough it", stayed in their cabin or lakehouse. My cousin, Dave, and his wife arrived in a very shiny, new-fangled motorhome which cost roughly $150K. This thing was so posh and swank, I'm convinced it even wiped your butt for you. Boy, camping sure sucks.

An activity was planned for everyday, even if that activity involved playing in the lake. Skiing, tubing, riding the wave runner, playing on the inflated island, or just laying in some personal raft, drinking whatever your drink of the day happened to be, basking in the sun, and trying to ignore that pesky little fish who nibbled on anyone who happened to be in the water. Some family members got a lovely fish-hickey to remember the reunion by, me included.

We frequented "The Triangle"...which basically is the Walmart of Hickory County. "You can find anything at The Triangle" is the most uttered phrase at Pomme de Terre lake. The Triangle is a gas station...on steroids. They carry everything from ice to potpourri. Potato wedges to Red Hat Club essentials. It's true...you can find anything at The Triangle. I suspect that the owner will start offering an Ozark dating service sometime next year...

I talked with a second cousin about college courses as she has just started college. Cletus (who is married to a distant cousin-in-law) chimes in about how he was great at math...in high school...before he dropped out. No one likes Cletus (his real name is Kelly), but it is safe to say that he is always the dumbest person there, which usually provides some sort of entertainment for everyone else. He thinks he looks like Brad Pitt. He looks more like Britney Spears' husband...on meth.

We had a luau, and my stepdad looked mighty fine in his grass skirt and coconut bra. Everyone wore leis. I got lei-d at my family reunion by an uncle. The most excitement I've had in a while.

We went on a canoe trip one day, and I discovered that my dog Sam is a really crappy swimmer, and not very bright. He jumped out of the canoe, into swift water, and tried to swim upstream. I had to rescue him before he went under. I also discovered that he is allergic to fleas. I paid a vet over $100 so she could shave bald spots all over his body, give him a shot, and send me home with a bottle of pills that I have to spend 30 minutes twice daily trying to cram the damn things down his throat for the next 10 days. As of now, I have a really pathetic looking dog. Between him, and my clogged-peehole cat, and my fish whose fins fell off...I'm starting to think that my lot in life is to care for handicapped animals.

Overall, the reunion was loads of fun, and the added bonus was that I didn't have to work for an entire week. Hee!! I returned to work, much more relaxed and in a rare good mood.

I shoud take a week off from work every month.

In Today's News...

Our gov, Matt Blunt, has now banned Medicaid from paying for erectile dysfunction meds for their recipients. Ofcourse those individuals with pulmonary issues will still be able to get it, but not for those who need that little extra boost in the bedroom. As a taxpayer, I can appreciate this decision by our well-coiffed governator. Why should my taxes go to fund someone else's sex life...especially when mine is a virtual drought?

To counter this decision (as someone out there always has to have the dissenting opinion), an activist for Medicaid folks complained that without the ED meds, some people would be severely hindered in their quest to procreate...thereby being in conflict with Blunt's Southern Baptist social platform of Pro-life.

Methinks that if you are on Medicaid, and cannot afford ED meds on your own...you probably should not be having kids oweing to the fact that you probably cannot afford them either.

But that is just my opinion.

Right now, I am at work, having a rare decent evening. I'm dining on fruit salad and goldfish (nurses have the very best nutrition habits). After tonight, I am going to be off for a whole week to attend my family reunion. A whole week of scheduled family chaos: golf tournament, boating, Hawaiian-themed party, campfires, cliff jumping, and maybe this year, my cousin will go water skiing in a patriotic thong...again. Even though this family is not my blood relation (they are all from my stepdad's side), they are family to me, and I enjoy spending time with them. I only wish I had computer access so I could blog the week. I will just have to remember the high points and blog them upon my return.

So, this is me signing off for the week. While you guys are working, I'll be basking in the Southern Missouri sun. Bwah!

Half Ton!?!?

After a relatively relaxing and enjoyable weekend at the lake, I had to come to work tonight...and it sucked from the word "go". I got the worst team ever. I have 4 people, with a combined weight of 623.7 kg. Or, in case you are not metric system savvy, that's roughly 1372 lbs. I think that is less than what a Ford Pinto weighs.

And to think I was going to be an English teacher before this whole nursing thing happened. I was going to broaden young minds with the words of Shakespeare while writing the Great American Novel in my free time. Now, I put my hands where no normal person would put them. The golden moments of my job, the ones that make me go "I'm so glad I am a nurse" are very few and far between.

To make things even better, the Newbie Residents have now invaded the hospitals. This time last year, I didn't know enough to know that they didn't know anything either. Now, I know...and now it is very, very scary. If you really must get sick, July is not the time to do so. Neither is August. I think you could get sick in the fall and be relatively safe.

Independence Day Yammerings

Today is the first of July. Hard to believe the year is half over, but now we are at the halfway point...Independence Day festivities. Everyone is all in lather to go to the lake (myself included) and partake of picnics, boating, and fireworks display. I often think about things I did as a kid, how excited me and my brothers would get this time of year. Dad would buy a brick of Black Cats, divide them amongst the three of us, light a "punk" (which I discovered later is only cow poop on a stick) and turn us loose on a quest to see what we could blow up. I suppose our penchant for black powder is genetic...I know for a fact that my parents camped on the banks of the Republican River at this time in 1974 and my mother spent some of her free time trying to blow up frogs with Black Cats. The rest of her free time, apparently, was utilized by conceiving her first child...Yours Truly.

My parents would really drop some serious cash in the fireworks tent, 4 days of flaming fun until that big night with the big bbq and the big fireworks show put on by my parents. Our own fireworks displays were well known throughout the neighborhood. My favorite was the Happy Lantern. Sparks would fly and then ~bloop~ a little Chinese paper latern would appear. My brothers favored the parachute ones. A rocket would race into the sky ~bang~ then out would pop a little parachute which would ultimately not land on the ground for recovery, but instead go MIA until the following winter when someone would spot it hanging in the leaf-barren tree in the front yard.

And don't forget those snake thingies that would seemingly grow out of the sidewalk when lit, leaving a big black mess in their wake, not to mention the burn mark that would forever be emblazoned onto the concrete...long after the Second Coming.

We had no fear of burnt limbs or visits to the ER. We laughed in the face of danger as our dog ate anything that had smoke coming out of it. Bwah-hah-hah!

Now, I prefer to just go to the big fireworks display...usually free. I roll my eyes in annoyance at all the debris left over from spent fireworks on the 5th, littering my streets. I grit my teeth as my neighbors blow off the 100-count Saturn missile (with report) right outside my bedroom window while I am sleeping. Bastards. I guess I am just getting old. My excitement for lighting fireworks with a poop-stick has gone by the wayside with the likes of the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.

I drive through Riverside, and notice there is a fireworks tent every 15 feet. There must be some city ordinance that permits one little town to have so much flammable material. If every single piece of fireworks were to spontaneously combust in Riverside, all that would remain of that town would be a large crater roughly the size of Rhode Island. I've often felt that Riverside should post large "NO SMOKING" signs at their city limits, effective from June 20th to July 6th. A true testament to the tourism dollar, Riverside could boast that they have enough fireworks to effectively blow off the fingers of every man, woman and child in the Greater Kansas City area, and it would be absolutely true.

No, I think I will stick with the free displays around town. No handling of dried poop required for that...not to mention less risk of me burning off something I may need later.

Have a fun, safe and burn-free Independence Day!

My take on the Broadway bridge

Ahh...the Broadway bridge, I know thee well. I traveled this bridge every day to go to school...each side reduced to one lane so the little men in little white suits could scrape the lead paint off the bridge and paint it a chipper color of gray. I do believe this task took the 3 years I was in school.

Now, I frequent this bridge during my commute to and from work. Because I work the night shift, I am always going against traffic...so I smirk as I see the long procession of cars as they are racing at 20 miles an hour to get to work. Within the last year or so, we have been seeing improvements along the Broadway bridge extension. Weeds cut down to make way for wildflowers. Ooooh! A retaining wall with trees. Ahhhh! Two large concrete columns on each end of the Broadway extension. Huh??? For everytime I drove past the columns, my mind wondered with possibilities as to what the columns were for...digital Scout sign announcing the traffic jam you were about to drive into? Some banner to display welcoming various convention go-ers? Surely such large columns would have a clear and distinct purpose.

Sometimes, I underestimate the powers-that-be who run Kansas City.

It wasn't until a write-up in the Star solved all my burning questions about the columns that plagued my mind since the construction had begun. As part of the Broadway Extension Beautification Project, these columns were to symbolize one's departing from the Northland and their arrival to downtown KC. This was such a relief to us Northlanders, because up until now, we had NO IDEA we were leaving the comfort and security of God's Country (the Northland) and entering into the Outer Darkness known as Downtown. As an added bonus, these columns light up with various colors to coordinate with the colored lights on the bridge, and these colors would sometims reflect the season (Christmas, Halloween, Chiefs Home Opener, etc). When there is no season to display one prominent color proudly, these columns display them all...which only makes it seem as though Cowtown is continually hosting a Gay Pride event.

Wow! Over a million dollars was spent on this project, so we would know we were leaving the Northland and entering Downtown. Phew!! Good thing too, because that big bridge over the Missouri River was far too vague. And that ginormous pothole on the south side of the bridge that greets you by swallowing up your car...it just doesn't express what Kansas City is about.

Apparently, lit up columns do.

The winds of change...

Another night at work, and it would appear that I might actually have a good night for a change. I've been giving much thought into the matter, and I am considering making a switch to dayshift to better accomodate a full time school schedule. I've been giving a lot of thought about that too. This fall, I plan on starting up with some pre-requisites needed for the BSN completion program. So, I'm putting feelers out for an open day-weekend option position. Most of the day people I have talked to are very supportive of it. I've not talked much about it to my night-shift coworkers. I've worked nights since I graduated high school. I'm not a morning person, but you do what you have to do to get where you need to go. I'm not really happy in my current position, so maybe a change of schedule would do me good. Granted, the respiratory therapists on days are no where near as cute and fun to flirt with, is it a sacrifice I am willing to make for the greater good of my nursing practice.

Ode to the Kidney

O Kidney
Perfectly symmetrical.
Overlapping the hand of the doctor
Who ripped it out of Liz's side.

O Kidney
We dubbed thee Moe
You immediately took to task
Filling a foley bag with golden streams

O Kidney
How we rejoiced
At the sound of tinkling
Coming from the bathroom

O Kidney
Eight years have passed
And still you bask
In our undulating waves of adoration

Tom Cruise is a big, fat weiner

Matt Lauer should have taken him out right then and there during the interview...and no one in America would have blamed him. Tom, it would appear, is a self-proclaimed expert on psychiatry, medications and all the physiological functions of the neurological system. He only acts in movies so he can pay his dental bills. Everytime I hear about that man, his becomes more and more the world's biggest jerk. I'm officially boycotting anything Tom Cruise. He gives me the creeps anyway.

No wonder he has to go out and marry someone half his age...no woman worth her salt would put up with a guy like that. Either Katie is that dumb, or she just can't past the fact that "Tom Cruise loves me!"

There are people out there who have real issues with body chemistry, and meds do help them. By Dr. Tom going on his big PR tour touting his pay-as-you-progress cult and its, ahem, virtues...he is playing a very dangerous game because out there somewhere, there is someone who is going to listen...and it is going to be met with very dire consequences. Brook Shields was totally right when she called him to the mat for his post-partum depression remarks.

I think Tom has ADHD, and is in serious need of Ritalin...and a Valium salt lick...and a psych eval.

Why its good to be an American

Oh joy. The Supreme Court has ruled that cities can legally take your house and replace it with a Krispy Kreme Donut shop if they want in the name of economic development. Boy, that sure makes me want to go out and buy a house. Just my luck, I would have the walls freshly painted when KC would come calling, saying my little piece of the American pie would be a perfect spot for a Big O Tire. I'd almost bet money that our Founding Fathers are spinning in their graves. Sometimes, I look at today's politicians and wonder if they are in it because they truly want to serve the people who elected them...or if they are just in it for the power and whatever perks come with being a politician.

I'm going to DC in August, and I am very excited about it. The top items on my to-see list are
1. The Holocaust Museum
2. Arlington Cemetary
3. The Vietnam War Memorial
4. American History parts of the Smithsonian...plus whatever big jewels they have on display (what can I say, I am female)
5. Historical documents...Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence, etc.etc

I looked online for a possible visit to the White House. You have to reserve in groups of 10 or more, and 6 months in advance, and you have to go through a member of Congress (in addition to signing away your First Born son). So, it looks like I won't get to see the White House in my lifetime. I don't even think I know 10 people who want to visit the White House. I'm the biggest nerd I know.

In other news, Man-Ass is IN!! You know how these little young girls wear their jeans way low and you can see the buttcrack of dawn (and sometimes more)?? Well, it would appear the men don't want to be left out, so the new trend is wearing low-rise jeans so they can show off a little butt cleavage...but I am sure you won't notice if they happen to have a hairy butt. Plumbers have been wearing this trend for centuries, and only now it's hot fashion??

First of Four

When making out the schedule, working a 4-day stretch doesn't sound bad...until the time arrives when you actually have to do it. It's even worse when you have just had a big block of time off. Sheesh...what was I thinking? Oh yeah...I was thinking about a new dining room table to match my oak china hutch that is missing the shelves.

Incidentally, I went to Crowley Furniture to see about ordering new glass shelves and the salesperson sort of berating me for buying a hutch without glass shelves. Gee...maybe because $500 sounded a lot better than $2K. Turd...go sell someone an ottoman or something.

My place of employment is all in a lather about attaining Magnet Status. Magnet status is essentially an award bestowed upon hospitals who kiss butt the best the bragging rights "our nurses are better than your nurses". It's a 3 year process (could be 2, might be 4...not really certain) and its all about the nurses and there is certain criteria we have to meet. Are we happy? Is our turnover really low? Do we offer this? Do we do that?? If we get this coveted status, the nurses get a pin and a glass award which will be displayed in an award case that no one pays attention to as they are booking it to the cafeteria for a $10 baked potato. In a nutshell, its an award the hospital can use for marketing so people will want to come here when they are sick.

Some nights are so bad, I wish I had the number to the Magnet committee so I can tell them where to take their little glass award. I don't regret being a nurse, and on the whole, I like (not love) my job. Sometimes, though, I feel emotionally drained when I go home. It's hard to feel as though you have made a difference when you see the same faces come in with the same problem which would be solved if people simply did what their doctor's told them to do. If you are diabetic...quit eating the damn Snickers!!! People who have big time liver problems because they like the Captain a little too much. The crack addicts who just don't understand why simple pain meds don't work to treat their pain. Throw in a couple people who tip the scales of 500+lbs, and you have a standard day on my unit. This is not what I want to retire doing.

The Nightmare that is the NCLEX...

I took boards today...and is was hell. I felt nauseated on the drive to the testing center. Apprehension when I signed in...fingerprints, pictures, signatures. They are pretty serious when it comes to testing. I had to remove my watch, and had to spit my gum out. No comforts whatsoever.

I felt like I didn't know anything. That my brains had fallen out of my ears, landing on the floor by my feet...waiting for my to collect them when I was done with the test. Two years of nursing classes had culminated to this one test...and damned if I couldn't remember any of it.

Most everyone I have talked to took only 75 questions before the computer would shut off. I had 150 questions. Right when I had resigned to taking the full 265 questions, the computer shut off. I gasped, and I am sure other people heard me.

I've been through a lot of hard things, this test being among the hardest. I won't be able to find out if I passed until Friday afternoon...and even then I don't know if I will, or just wait until that dreaded letter comes in the mail. Out of site, out of mind.

I've been in shock all day, but I am glad it is over. Now I can worry about what I am going to do if I failed...which chances are pretty good that I did.

A nurse, is a nurse, is a nurse...

My nursing boards are coming up this Wednesday...and I am not ready. I said I would do thousands of practice questions before the test...but I may have done around 500 or so. I guess at this stage in the game...either you know it by now, or you don't. So, we will see this week if I know it or not. I'm still nervous about it. So far, almost everyone in my class who has taken boards has passed...save for a couple people we know who failed.

My job is going well. I am finally coming to a point where I feel confident and know what I am doing. My preceptor has sort of left me to my own devices, sort of a sink or swim approach. So far, I am doing fine. I like everyone I work with. I like my floor, even though I hate how they get dumped on sometimes. In a couple years, I would like to take a couple months off from work and go do a travel assignment...maybe in Hawaii or Florida. I hear California pays extremely well. My ultimate job would be cruise nursing.

I comfortable with my degree in Nursing. Some people do not have the good fortune of having their parents pay for college. So, there are a couple new grads with BSN's who look down on my lowly two-year degree. I just want to punch them in the nose. Guess what...we work at the same hospital, do the same job, and make the same salary. I've also come to know some 4-year nurses who can't find their ass with two hands. Scary!

The Ills of the In-laws

My little brother is getting married. Oh joy. My brother, who will turn 27 by the end of the year, will finally attain what he has so much wanted for as long as I can remember. Too bad he is more in love with the idea of being married, more than actually being in love with the woman he is going to marry. My brother, once an energetic guy, ready to go out into the world and catch it by it's tail, now reduced to a quivering blob of "yes dear". He is not only on a short leash, but he is also on a choke collar.

My sister-in-law...to be...would seem as though she stepped right from a Jerry Springer show...somewhere between "My Father is Also My Pimp" and "Who is the BabyDaddy?" Bad bleach blonde hair with very dark roots, electric blue fingernail polish, pink eyeshadow, and a baby in tow. She comes with more baggage than Gucci. She fears strippers, has no sense of humor, and I'm convinced she keeps my brother locked in a box...only letting him out to go to work and to go with her to kareoke or the bowling alley. He met her on the internet.

Some people should never be allowed access to a computer.

After a long courtship of 3 months, we have news of an engagement. A wedding date has been set before them having even known each other for 1 year. Lucky me, I get to be the photographer...but because they are poor, and I am the sister, I am not charging them for the services everyone else would have to pay close to a grand for. Yes, I do love my brother...even though I personally think he is putting his manhood in a meatgrinder and asking his wife to turn the crank. I'm not alone in my sentiments, and yet no one says a word for fear of alienating him.

My brother has always been one who learns from experience. He never believes in what other people tell him, and the examples he sees never apply to him. So, he will learn his lesson in love the hard way. It was enough for me to watch how our parents struggled, to know never to settle for anything less than what you want. I suppose if all you want is a family of your own, without all the good things that go in it...trust, respect, honesty...any warm body will do. My brother has definitely found that warm body. I only wish I could teach him to look within himself first and find the happiness there he has been looking for, instead of expecting that some stranger is going to magically give it to him.

Everything else after that, is just icing on the wedding cake.