25 December 2009

Because I had to work today on this gorgeous, sunny Christmas day, we had Christmas last night at my parents' house.  I was sitting on the couch with SoS snuggled close and I noticed he was eyeballing my cleavage.  (I was wearing a scooped neck blouse, not a J. Lo special; c'mon it's me we're talking about here!)  I lifted his cute little dimpled chin and he batted his long, blonde eyelashes over his baby-blue eyes and said, "I was lookin' at those."    Yeah, dude, I noticed.  Now knock it off.  I guess I'll never have to wonder about this kid's sexuality.

Merry, merry Christmas. Hope you all have all your Christmas wishes come true.


20 December 2009

Scenes From A Crazy Family Christmas

One of my nephews was discussing the amount of medication his ferret (!) was on with my SIL.  His ferret was on 7 pills a day and her dog was on 5.  I said, "There's always the .22 solution."  They looked at me blankly until my father said, "Yeah, it travels at 1700 feet per second!"  They didn't think we were funny.

I was sitting next to my youngest BIL while the presents frenzy was happening and leaned around him to talk to my SIL (not his wife) when I heard, "While you're down there..."  So I dug my elbow into his thigh.  Was that what you meant ya little perv?

I was saying goodbye to one of my nephews and ran into the couch as I hugged him.  I mentioned something about my big, fat ass and he said, "Yeah, but that only happens in the winter, right?"   Yeah.  You ever planning on having a girlfriend, bucko?


18 December 2009

My feelings toward Christmas this year are distinctly meh.  We had several frigid, but gorgeous, weeks where I could have avoided the yearly curse of hanging lights on the house in tsunami-like conditions; but instead I continued to look at the box of lights in the garage and said. "Not today."  And then it started raining.  I do realize today is pretty good from a Pac NW point of view, but Christmas is only a week away (ack!) and I'm not hanging lights just so the Homeowners Association Nazis can give me the fish eye come Jan 3.  We've had the tree for a week and it's had lights on it for four days and ornaments for two.  My dad insisted on coming with us to get the tree ("we need one too") and followed the three of us out to the tree farm.  We got there, all piled into the cab of Dad's truck, drove about half a mile, and picked nearly the first tree we saw.  Then we walked about 12 more feet and picked the next one.  From leaving my house to leaving the tree farm with two trees it took an hour.  And that includes the 40 minute drive to the farm.  As my dad said, if my mom had been there we might have just been getting out of the truck.  It really cuts down on time when you have someone to be your mule and you don't have to stop sawing every 10 seconds to assure that your offspring haven't wandered off,  fell in a slough, or accosted poor, innocent tree seekers. 

Had to do the whole yearly thing.  Bill the Wonder Doc is still in Iraq, not that it would matter because neck to knees is a No Fly Zone for him.  It's not that I've known him since he was a poor pitiful first year resident that I had to pull out of a C-section his very first day on the floor for a delivery; it's that he is a whopping 2 days older than I am.  It's like having your twin brother do your pelvic exam.  No thank you.  So, since I have the world's most bestest OB/GYN she gets the duty.  She cracks me up because nothing shakes her.  Mohawks, blingee, it's all just part of the landscape.  Even on someone as outwardly conservative, and let's face it, pretty much inwardly as well, as I. 

The dog has taken to surfing.  I swore the other day that I had a cube of butter on the counter.  Since I couldn't find it, I just figured I had used it all and forgotten, so I pulled another out of the fridge.  And then found a shredded butter wrapper all over the living room floor.  At least he knows enough to eat the evidence in a room that is hardly used, thus delaying being found out.  Last weekend I made some nice tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwhiches for lunch.  Just the cozy thing for a blustery day.  I called the boys to the table and then had to step into the bathroom.  I heard the footsteps of  a thousand head of bison thunder by and then FB asks, "Mom?  Where's the other half of my sandwhich?"    He's quick and stealthy that dog. I hadn't even known he was in the room. He should do recon for the Marines.


After church last Sunday SoS comes up to me and says, "Mom!  I learned you don't do this!"  And then proceeds to flip me the bird.  Nice.  "Did you do that in class?!?"  "No!"  Well, then how did the subject come up?  I can't see your cute little Sunday School teacher arbitrarily throwing that in with "don't speak the Lord's name in vain."  No phone calls yet, but I'm anticipating.

The outlaw's Christmas party is tomorrow.  Somebody save me.  This is a LOUD ( I know, coming from me that is saying something), eating, present opening, frenzy of biblical proportions.  There has to be 40 people crammed into this early '70s split level.  It's so hot you have meat falling off the bone and no one can hear because no one shuts up long enough to let anyone else talk.  Which I usually don't mind so much, they're family, you gotta love 'em, it's written in the by-laws.  It's just that the MIL can't hardly breathe these days without making me want to punch her.  I start off telling myself to just let everything go, and then she says something so incredibly inane or references some thing about her late son, that she couldn't carry her ass 18 miles to come see when he was dying because she COULDN"T FACE THE BRIDGE, or says something about how long it's been since she's seen the boys, the offspring of said late son, whose house she passes by on the freeway on the way to go clamming, and then talks about going up to the mountain to my BIL's cabin, but can't come 18 FUCKING MILES to see her grandkids, and I sort of lose my tolerance.  Not to mention my FIL starts drinking and then turns into this dirty old man that you practically need a crowbar to get to stop hugging you.  AAAAACCCKKK!  I'm putting myself on-call at 0300 just so I have an excuse to bail out of there by 2100!


11 December 2009



Ever had a day when you felt like this?  I had a couple of patients today that required a lot of emotional support.  A LOT of SUPPORT.  The first one was eight solid hours. It's pretty emotionally draining.  Which leaves me not a lot for the little curtain climbers at home.  And motivation is pretty much non existent.  Then I got a call from a friend who also needed a lot of support regarding an issue with her son.  Which I don't mind.  It's just that it is exhausting being all things to all people sometimes.  I blame it all on not working out this morning.  I'm sure it's not flirting with iminent cardiac arrest while cursing the sadist on my TV that has put me in such a funk.
I need to regroup.

Ah, there we go.

SoS has been having a hard time a school the last few days.  He had been doing better and then completely backslid this week.  I couldn't figure out what the problem was.  He kept having notes home about being loud; but he has an ear infection so he's practically deaf.  He finished his Z-pack today and, just for kicks, I read the package insert.  I never read the package insert.  Guess what?  Side affects include hyperkinesis and hyperactivity.  Which I always thought were essentially the same; but far from me to argue with GlaxoSmithKline.  What kind of antibiotic causes hyperactivity?  And why would you give that to an above average active kid anyway?  His teacher must have loved
this.

Since it's Friday night I let the kids stay up late, rotting their brains with video games and Disney YouTube.  When I finally wrestled them away from their Videodrome (without the weird vulva in the stomach thing though) and got them upstairs, SoS starting bawling because I said he didn't need to take a shower.  "But I don't want to go to bed all stinky!"  What kind of seven year old is this?

10 December 2009

I had a very cute couple from Yemen today. And when they told me their daughter's name in Arabic, I heard "durka durka." Damn you Matt Stone and Trey Parker!

09 December 2009

A Few Ramblings

Papa John's Pizza is donating 100% of profits from pizza sales on the 8th and 9th to the families of the Lakewood police officers killed in the line of duty. There has been such and outpouring of support that Papa John's had to disable online ordering, calling to order a pizza might take all day, ordering in person takes 20 minutes and yesterday the delivery time was 5 hours. I was standing in line today and was amazed that, with all these people crammed into this tiny store, the phone ringing incessantly, and delivery drivers coming in and out of the arctic cold, no one was the least bit grumpy. There weren't even any somber faces; everyone was smiling in their effort to support these families in anyway possible.

Speaking of arctic: it was 18 degrees when I left for work this morning and 30 degrees when I left for home. I'm freezing my tits off! If I wanted to live in this kind of cold I would have never left Utah! The only saving grace is there has been no precipitation and so I don't have to deal with drivers unversed in the finer points of solid inclement weather driving. Here's a hint: 4 wheel drive doesn't do squat on ice or even snow for the most part. It will give you a little traction, but not enough to go 80 miles an hour down a freeway packed solid from 4 hours of traffic. Just a little FYI.

One of our counties has declared bikini baristas stands as "adult stores", stating that employees and customers must be at least 18 years of age. I'm waiting to see if the stands will put up a fight in regards to being classified the same as Hustler Hollywood, Castle, Lover's Package and the like.

SoS gave me quite the dissertation today on the human body. A few excerpts:

"Our red blood cells go to our heart and grab oxygen in the lungs and then they go back where they came from to be blue red blood cells."

"Our white blood cells eat up germs."

"When we have viruses, our body goes to them and fights them and makes in 'inky'-bodies so we get better."

"Hey, do we have any feud coloring? I wanna do an spearmint."

So he's got the basic hematology down; good to know.

FB is starting to suffer from testosterone poisoning. I asked him to vacuum and his response was, "Do I need to do this room in here?" Does it have carpet? *crickets* I then had to ask him every time he said he was finished if he had done the stairs, the upstairs, the bedrooms, etc. The last time he said he was done I asked if he had put the vacuum away. "Yep." Really? You wrapped up the cord and put it away? "Yeah." You put it away in the closet where it goes? "Oh...wait."

And last but not least, AWESOME TEXT OF THE DAY:
(352): my drunk uncle just explained that turkeys are not gentle lovers... and no context doesn't make it better.

08 December 2009

This Will Be The Only Thing I Write About This Mess

This was on what I saw in my mailbox today:




Now I hear the CinC shanks like a side of mutton so I can see where El Tigre would need to lend his expertise (yeah, I know he's lining up a putt; he probably shanks those as well), and I realize that this went to print before the shit storm hit the cliched fan, but this may not be the image the usually scandal-less sport may want. Well, scandal-less except for John Daly's drinking but whatev..
I'd also be little leery of taking any tips whatsoever from him; no knowing what you might catch.

And here's a thought: Keep. It. In. Your. Fucking (no pun intended). Pants. And if you can't seem to manage the self control of the average cabbage, don't get married. And for the love of all that's holy, don't, please DON'T, bring kids into this sewage you have for a life.

(By the way, I don't usually read this. I don't even know how I started getting it. But, yes, I own golf clubs, have been known to watch tournaments (especially the Masters and U.S. Open) and I can name more than one piss-poor-excuse-for-a-human-being golfer.)

The One Time I Won't Complain About the Traffic Around Here

Thousands gathering to honor fallen officers | KOMO News - Seattle, Washington | Local & Regional


UPDATE:
The processional left McChord AFB at 10 am and finally finished the 10 mile drive to the Tacoma Dome at 1:30 pm.  Police and fifefighters from all over the country attended  as well as Canadian police and one thousand of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Okay, I was fine until Officer Richards' kids gave his eulogy.  Now I'm a soggy, blubbering mess


05 December 2009

Going through channels and was sucked in by "Steven Seagal: Lawman." It's like driving past a car accident and not being able to tear your eyes from the scene. A veritable vortex of chaos. With all the mystical direction he is giving his fellow officers ("Be a zen marksman; let the bullet fly to its objective. Like the Zen archers. They do not pull the wind; they push it." What the hell are you talking about you bloated windbag?), you expect him to whip of that body armor and stop bullets with the power of his MIND!

03 December 2009

This Is Getting Pretty Viral; But Me Likey All The Same

I know some like Beaker best, but I've always been partial to Animal. Probably good since my kids act like him half the time. He is at is Animal best here.


Plus in has Manamana guy and the Swedish Chef in it...how can it lose?

02 December 2009

Had my laser today and I think you could have executed several people with the amount of electricity I had shot into tender tissues. Holy hell! I even let out a "yawp!" and I had a baby without an epidural and didn't yell. (Mainly because I delivered where I work and you don't want to act the fool in that situation because you know they WILL talk about your ass!) The things we suffer through for fashion. Because, really, who wants to look like this (NSFW picture after the jump):



The Laryngospasms

Non medical types may want to skip this...but I think it's tres funnay.



This one is even better.

Yep, The Apocolypse Is Coming

This idiot updated his Facebook page during his wedding. What. A. Tool.

29 November 2009

Can We Please Stop This Nonsense Already?

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"Deferred success?" Maybe if students would study the material and gain knowledge for the sake of an education instead of just passing a test, they wouldn't be demoralized by the word "fail." And if "fail" damages those poor little psyches so much, how about just using "did not pass?" Imparts the tone you're looking for without the false sense of succeeding without effort. Frankly, my kids are going to hear "fail" or better yet, "flunked" if indeed they do. They are big enough candy asses as it is.

28 November 2009

The Senior Chief, the primary wife and I were bonding over funny songs about the Navy. This might be my favorite. Besides being being soooo true, it has quite a jaunty chorus. NSFW language BTW.


Wait until I show him the one about the Chiefs. Bwahahahahahaaaa!

Signs of the Apocolypse

Not only did Booger play a well adjusted, caring, compassionate principal but Jesse "The Body" (and former governor of MN) Ventura is not only back on WWE, but he is also a conspiracy theorist with his own show, and Steven Seagal still states that he works in movies. Good thing he still has that day job. Seriously. If Steven Seagal pulled me over, I'd think I was being punked.

23 November 2009

Decisions

Movie choices for the night: every Alien movie ever made from the classic Ridley Scott, to Alien Resurrection which just made me go, "Whaaaat??" Or, the gayest tribute to Big Navy ever. Can you say homoeroticism? I chose the Alien extravaganza because a) I've always been more in to the Alien movies than Top Gun and b) it's just depressing to see how much hair Anthony Edwards lost and how much weight Val Kilmer found.

Although, this is a fine version
Last Thursday was parent teacher conferences and, after last year, I was concerned that SoS's conference would just be a giant, how do I say, BITCH-FEST about my kid. I had myself so spun up running scenarios and counters to supposed criticism that I snapped the toilet brush handle while cleaning. I was DREADING this conference and was prepared to either shift him into another classroom or turf him out to my friend in BFE who home schools her three boys (that she had in less than 3 years..go Big Navy! And stay out at sea so she can get a break from being knocked up! I guess that's what the tubal is for. :D ) I dressed in an outfit quite unlike my usual hang around the house jeans and oversized t-shirt. I had on cords, a fitted shirt, jewelry, heels, and all the makeup I could fit on my face. This, for anyone who knows me well, is full battle rattle. I might has well have been wearing an IBA. Every time I looked at the dog he rolled straight to his back and put all four feet in the air. I took this to mean I had achieved the look I was shooting for.

I roll up to the school 15 minutes early and spent the next 10 trying to cleanse my aura, enhance my calm and basically not fly in there and rip the balls off the first person I saw. Which, had that been a woman, would have been difficult to be sure. I walk to SoS's classroom and pace back in forth until it is my turn. When I go in I frostily say hello, sit down with meaning, and geared up for the riot. It was completely anti-climactic because his teacher actually likes my kid! I about went all Sally Fields on her; "you like him! You really like him!" Good grief, what a relief to have someone know your kid is a challenge and like him anyway. The only problem I really had was with the reading specialist who showed me his test results where he couldn't segment or blend words. I informed her that we do Hooked on Phonics at home and that the night before he used letter cards, segmenting and blending to spell the words I told him. She said, "Well, we did the testing in the beginning of November, so things may have changed." Ummm, that was 19 days ago. But, whatever. SoS's conference was a full 30 minutes. FB has a male teacher and he looped from 4th grade. His conference might have been 10 minutes if I count the time for his teacher to move to the back of the room and find the report card. "Yeah, he's doing fine. Working on his spelling." *crickets* I guess I'll go then.

18 November 2009

Why Wasn't I That Quick On Tests?

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Instead I'd wrack my brain and leave a blank if I didn't know the answer....

19th Nervous Breakdown

The other night I walked into FB's room to say goodnight, confiscate all video games and, once again, inform him I can hear him cleaning out his closet when he is supposed to be sleeping so he should stay in bed to save us all the aggravation, and I saw What's Happening To Me? lying on the carpet.   This and Where Did I Come From? have been pretty standard bedtime fare for my kids since day one.  I am a nurse after all, and an L&D nurse to boot.  My kids are gonna have the information they need, with strong caveats that they are not to share this information with friends who may have parents who don't share my philosophy of transparency in the sexuality department.  But I digress.  The next day we were at the Y for swimming lessons.  We use the family dressing rooms because I can't trust SoS to go in the men's without causing a riot, fire, famine, or at least taking 2 hours to get out of the shower.  This family togetherness doesn't bother FB because, well, shame is a scarce commodity in our house and FB has yet to discover middle school modesty.  If it weren't improper, I'd probably still prance around nudelet the way I do when they aren't here.  Except for the fact that FB could no longer form a sentence or bring his gaze above chest level when he was 6.  Okay!  No more barging into my bedroom or bathroom unless I have foundation garments on at the very least!  (And if you're wondering, SoS hit that stage at about 4.  Precocious.)  And I digress again.  My point is, as I am trying to hurry these children along, my back to FB to give a little privacy, he asked me a question as I was picking SoS's suit up off the floor.  On reflex I turned my head and OMFG!  The kid has pubes!  At first I thought it was lint from the towel, but the Y uses white towels.  My mind refused to grasp this concept of the impending maelstrom of puberty, despite the complete man growth under his arms.  I must be delusional, low blood sugar, psychotic even to have imagined such a thing on my sweet little 10 year old.  Surreptitiously, I glanced again.  Nope. Didn't imagine it.  I need a vodka with a valium chaser.  Needless to say, today FB went to the men's dressing room while I ran herd on SoS in the family changing room.

I, of course, have to share this with all and sundry (obviously).  My dear friend said, "Well, you know GMC (her son) told me that it isn't good if your balls are squishy."  What the hell?  Apparently, after my talk of testicular cancer with FB (neighbors of my parents' had a grandson lose a testicle at 15 to testicular cancer), and how testicular checks should be a regular occurence (and wasn't THAT fun to teach:  this bag is your scrotum, the two little balls inside are your testicles and if you are ever talking to me that is what you call them.  Not jewels, not balls, not marbles, not eggs..just testicles.  All this while FB laughs insanely.  Single motherhood.  yay.), he decided to be the voice of prevention and told GMC to pick one day a month to check his junk.  I think the American Cancer Society should give him a kickback.  Or maybe there's a merit badge he can achieve.  Oh, and two girls, who may or may not have been in middle school, apparently asked him out.  FB, in true fashion, didn't say anything and just walked away.  We'll work on graciously declining invitations once I'm sufficiently medicated.

14 November 2009

Seven Years



From day one, SoS has been like this.  Happy-go-lucky, smiling, loving little boy and one of the reasons I still breathe in and out.  This kid loves to laugh and most of his antics are for the sole purpose of crackin' up!  He's always thought his brother was the neatest thing since beer in a can as well.

  He came flying into this world at 3:03pm; 7 pounds 8 ounces.   I was so wiped out from working the night before I didn't remember telling the records specialist what his name was, and was sure his birth certificate was going to read "Baby Boy Pichler."

He's seven today. 

 
 Look at that awesome Spartacus butt chin!


When I was younger, seven years took an eternity.   The last seven years took about 13 seconds.

11 November 2009

We've been passing around recipes at work faster than a two dollar hooker passes around the clap (nice image!), and last night I made "40 Cloves and a Chicken." You cut up a whole chicken, (which is a nightmare for me because it sounds like an episiotomy. Or an episiotomy sounds like cutting up chicken...whatever, it's foul. Heh. Foul. Heh.), then you bake it in the oven with thyme, olive oil and 40 cloves of unmolested garlic. If you hassle the garlic, it releases the essential oils and becomes strong enough to lift a car off a baby, but it you gently peel it and then roast it, it is delightful. I wasn't really hungry last night, so I didn't want any of the chicken or anything else I made for the boys, but I did eat 38 cloves of roasted garlic. I will never have a cholesterol problem again.


Got a phone call from a patient who said she was contracting and her cervix felt different, "like I can get a finger in it, where before I couldn't." What the hell? I told her to lay down, drink some water, and keep her fingers out of her vagina...she's gonna cause problems. Then she informed me that her husband first noticed it while they were having sex...la,la,la,la,la,la,la......keep HIS fingers out of your vagina then; I don't need these kinds of phone calls! And where the hell was my charge nurse; she's supposed to field this crap! It's one of the reasons I don't do that damn job anymore. Like the phone call in the middle of the night that started, "Hi, I just got off my husband..." Really, lady, stop. I don't think I want want to hear anymore. But she went on and then I was sure I didn't want to hear anymore.

Had a patient in triage today with a maternity shirt that read, "Maybe NOW he'll marry me." Huh. Well, honey,....huh.

Veterans Day

 I like this.  And it includes the Coasties, who frankly, don't get near the respect they deserve.  Thank a vet.  And I don't mean the person that cares for your four legged children.


10 November 2009

08 November 2009

A Few Things

I have found myself trying to go off the grid. Stupid winter. Left to my own devices I would wrap myself in my flannel sheets, flannel pjs, sweatshirt, comfy socks, and stay in bed all day with my window open and a jet engine sized fan set at 11 blowing in my face. The blegh/meh is compounded by the feeling that everyone is telling me if I were a better parent, SoS wouldn't be such a challenge. I hate to tell 'em this, but that kid was a challenge in utero and his personality is not going to change. Besides, you do all this shit by yourself and see how much you like it. What may have been challenging with two parents becomes a hair pulling, drug seeking fun fest by your little lonesome, so thanks for the support. Anyway, enough of that.

I had a party the night before Halloween and found a costume labeled "Dramatic Witch." With such a description I had ideas of an Elvira like ensemble (without the cleavage down to my navel) and scrutinized the picture on the front. Black dress, handkerchief hem that came to right below the knee, bodice cut to show scant cleavage...okay, I can do this. Then I put this thing on and the front of it came high-thigh. So, dramatic witch equals trampy witch? I see. Paired with back seam fishnets and earrings I could hula hoop with, I'm sure it screamed "Lookin' to get laid!" But since I am essentially still the chick who was afraid to skip church to go to the beach (although I had no problem changing into my suit at 70 miles an hour down the freeway in a Ford Fiesta) I was a tad uncomfortable. So in my usual fashion I just became louder and told more jokes. I topped this whole rig with a giant feathered witch's hat that had netting and little spiders sown into it. Which seemed apropos as there are cobwebs growing about my person. A friend's husband dressed up as Lt. Jim Dangle and he looked exactly like him. They got pulled over on the way home and the State Patrol asked him to step out of the car because they needed to differentiate her boozed out smell from his. When he stepped out, the cop about peed himself laughing and then called his partner over to look. No idea if they let him off the hook.

I was a tad more sedate on Halloween itself, where I just wore my motorcycle leathers and a huge, curly, black and white wig with dreadlocks. That is the warmest I have ever been on a Halloween. I may have to be a biker chick every year from now on.

Took the kids to their well child appointments and found out FB is 61 and 3/4 inches tall. His mother is 61 1/2 inches tall. He hasn't stopped laughing like a loon since. He wears a 32/30 in jeans. My dad is 6 feet and has the same sized inseam. I told FB to ask Grandpa why he's so much taller if their legs are the same length. Dammit, I'm going to have some fun with this too.

We have changed our visitor policy to only 2 people allowed during labor and no one under 18 allowed on the floor unless they are the pregnant couple. That's gone over like a turd in a punchbowl. We also have to wear masks during patient care until 10 days past our piggy flu vaccination. That's if you can find one. The prison had it before our hospital did. I HATE having my mouth covered...I think it's because I talk so much and so fast that I suck the mask into my mouth and nose and feel like I'm going to suffocate. Not the best feeling for someone who is claustrophobic.

The dog has a squeaky toy he loves. It's a pig. He went through two cows and after the last evisceration, I couldn't find another cow. He found the pig to be an acceptable substitute. FB has named the pig "Swine Flu." He now talks incessantly about Knucklehead McSpazatron having Swine Flu. And then laughing like a loon. He is his father's child.

Had a nice little patient the other day who was, let's face it, a bit of a princess. You're pregnant, not incapacitated. And you're not in labor so, do you really need someone with you in the bathroom? She goes in the bathroom and insists on her hubby coming with her and closing the door. A bit later he opens it and says, "I'm getting gassed out in here." She took a dump and insisted on him staying with her until she finished wiping. Let me just tell you, there are some parts of yourself that should remain a mystery in your marriage! There wasn't a day I left the door open and I refused to let the hubster. Needless to say, I was standing there with my nurse face on when she came out, but on the inside I was screaming, "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me????" She then went to wash her hands (thank goodness, don't get me started on how nasty 99% of my patients are) and her hubby says, "You have a sticker in your butt crack." Her blood band was obviously on the wrist of her "wipin' hand" and one of the stickers had come off. He then proceeds to go after it. To the point he spread her cheeks apart, while she washed her hands, and picked it off! I would have donkey kicked his ass into the next county. But we have already established her boundaries are different from mine.

One of my cute, young co-workers offered some beef jerky to one of our doctors. No big, except it happened to be our Indian, Hindu doctor. Yay cultural sensitivity for us! I about had a stroke trying not to laugh.

I'm trying to figure out how 5 retired nuns and a priest cut through the security fences on Bangor. I bet there are people with "stars upon thars" who are pissed. I love how one of the protesters said they were "hidden in plain sight." Erm....never mind. So they cut through the fences around the Strategic Weapons Facility, get surrounded by Marines and then have the balls to complain about being kept on the ground and hooded for hours. Beats being shot though, doesn't it? Since this is a place where "deadly force" is authorized. That means getting shot for all you nutbars who thought breaking into a nuclear weapons facility was a fine idea. And what would possess them to put their blood in baby bottles? I mean I get what they are trying to say with the symbolism, but yuck.

I made a fine dish called "Shot and a Beer Pork Stew." Now have to explain to the kids why there is beer in the fridge. Never mind the te-kill-ya in the cabinet.

Found a video of some girls from my alma mater getting roughed up a bit


Around the 0:37 mark is where I would have opened a big can of whoop ass. Poor little Molly Mormons need some Molly Hatchet in their makeup. I need to travel back to Provo and introduce them to righteous anger. No, I am not condoning dirty play, but I can guarantee that after that I wouldn't have just lain on the ground. I may have been red carded the hell out of the game, but I'm sure she would have known I disapproved of her actions.


How about pervo Ewoks?

19 October 2009

She Must Know About Contractual Tuesdays

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SoS started coughing on Saturday. Uh-oh, I thought, here comes the croup. He gets it nearly every year and since we have had monsoon like rain and wind the past few days, I was sure that he would be coming down with something. I started plying him with Emergen C, herbal wellsness drops, a stew made from eye of newt, anything I could get my hands on to stave off the feeling of impending doom that penetrated my psyche. We went to drop FB off at the youngest brother-in-law's because both the BILs were going to take him to a Seachicken's game. The oldest brother-in-law told me he would take SoS when he (the BIL) could get a prescription for Quaalude. No sense of adventure, that one. So I was upstairs on the laptop, conversing with the Nav's wife and experiencing all manner of jocularity, when I realized I hadn't heard from SoS in awhile. He must have fallen asleep; after all it was 2230. I go downstairs in time to see SoS get off the couch and announce, "Mom, I throwed up." Yeah, you did! How many seconds on dinner did you sneak when I wasn't looking? And it was chesseburger mac. Thank Zeus for leather couches. His body was the color of a Valentine's candy heart box and I started making bets with myself as to how high his fever actually was while SoS stood there barking like a sea lion. Yeppers, 101.4. I threw him in the shower, dosed him with ibuprofen and Delsym, slathered his chest and back in enough Vick's to clear the sinuses of a dedicated coke abuser, and pulled out the humidifier, all the while praying that I wasn't going to end up in the ED. (Been there; SoS had full on stridor and I had a fool MD tell me, after a steroid nebulizer, that if it happened again to bring him in, but have someone else drive because I would need to manage his airway. The look of death I gave him caused him to add "Or call 911." Ya think?) I then settled in for the night with a serious case of "mother's ear." Slept....not well. The next day I called my mom to tell her and let her know that we couldn't use the tickets she bought for us for the film festival. "Does he have the flu?" No, he has croup and only threw up from eating too much and coughing too hard. "Does he have any other symptoms?" A headache, but he's been coughing and he's stuffy. "Are you sure he doesn't have the flu?" Yes, I'm sure he doesn't have the flu. "Well...I hope he doesn't have the flu." For the love of God woman, I'm a NURSE!! It's under control! He spent yesterday listless and snarfy and continued to run a fever of 100-101. I called in sick for today, because I had no idea how he would be; plus daycare is off limits until they have been fever free for 24 hours. He had a normal temp before bed last night and was completely normal in everyway today. Enough to drive you crazy normal. No dude, you cannot go outside and play in shorts and barefeet. Because it's Fall, it's cold, and you've been sick, that's why. Back to school tomorrow. Then watch, the big one will fall ill. Little germ factories.

Today, since I was not at work, I decided to do a few things around the house that I've been putting off. Like soaking my showerhead in CLR. I have one of those huge shower heads that is supposed to give you the illusion of being in a warm spring rain. I am on a well. Full of minerals. My water is so hard, you could support masonry with it. So, instead of a warm spring rain, standing in my shower was like being spat upon by epileptic squirrels. A little soaking, a little rubbing, and a little reaming out of the little holes with a safety pin and we are back to our gentle spring shower.

How happy am I? It is the season for Monster Cereals (BooBerry, FrankenBerry, and Count Chocula), it's the return of Peeps, and hot buttered rum batter! Woohoo!

This is a S'more that I made with a ghost shaped Peep.  Except I forgot the chocolate bar.  Oh, well, it was damn tasty anyway.  Speaking of failed experiments:  I decided the kids and I were going to make a salt crystal garden.  You know the kind made with laundry bluing, salt, ammonia, etc.?  Very pretty and will peel your wallpaper off the walls from the smell?  Yeah, I'm not sure what went wrong, but I remember the crystalline structure growing up.  This is what ours did:

See, that mess isn't spillage from being moved; the stupid things grew that way.  And it was extremely powdery.  Either my memory is faulty, or we screwed this up big time.  I wonder if it's because I used sea-salt instead of good, old fashioned iodized don't-get-a-goiter table salt.  I may have to try this experiment again.

New funnies I found:

Click on to embiggen


Rights are rights

 Look carefully at this one.  There is the obvious, "My eyes!  My eyes!"  and then there is the not so obvious, "Someone in this picture agrees with you."

Cover that shit up!

17 October 2009

Sounds Like a Bunch of Nurses. Okay, Just Me.

 I brazenly ripped this off from Commander Salamander.  And I did it shamelessly. Cuz it's funny. And that makes it ok.


From: Executive Officer
To: All Chief Petty Officers

Subj: MEMO TO CPO'S

1. It has been brought to the Executive Officer's attention that some Chief Petty Officers throughout the command have been using foul language during the course of normal conversation with their Division Officers.

2. Due to complaints received from some Division Officers who may be easily offended, this type of language will no longer be tolerated. We do however, realize the critical importance of being able to accurately express your feelings when communicating with Officers.

3. Therefore, the following list of "TRY SAYING" new phrases has been provided from the wardroom so that proper exchange of ideas and information can continue in an effective manner.

TRY SAYING: Perhaps I can work late. INSTEAD OF: And when the f^ck do you expect me to do this?

TRY SAYING: I'm certain that isn't feasible. INSTEAD OF: No f^cking way.

TRY SAYING: Really? INSTEAD OF: You've got to be sh1tting me!

TRY SAYING: Perhaps you should check with... INSTEAD OF: Tell someone who gives a sh1t.

TRY SAYING: I wasn't involved in the project. INSTEAD OF: It's not my f^cking problem.

TRY SAYING: That's interesting. INSTEAD OF: What the f^ck?

TRY SAYING: I'm not sure this can be implemented. INSTEAD OF: This sh1t won't work.

TRY SAYING: I'll try to schedule that. INSTEAD OF: Why the h3ll didn't you tell me sooner?

TRY SAYING: He's not familiar with the issues. INSTEAD OF: He's got his head up his a55.

TRY SAYING: Excuse me, sir? INSTEAD OF: Eat sh1t and die.

TRY SAYING: So you weren't happy with it? INSTEAD OF: Kiss my a55.

TRY SAYING: I'm a bit overloaded at the moment. INSTEAD OF: f^ck it, I'm going to the Chief's Club.

TRY SAYING: I don't think you understand. INSTEAD OF: Shove it up your a55.

TRY SAYING: I love a challenge. INSTEAD OF: This job s^cks.

TRY SAYING: You want me to take care of that? INSTEAD OF: Who the h3ll died and made you boss?

TRY SAYING: I see. INSTEAD OF: Blow me.

TRY SAYING: He's somewhat insensitive. INSTEAD OF: He's a f^cking prick.

TRY SAYING: I think you could use more training. INSTEAD OF: You don't know what the f^ck you're doing.

Thank You for your assistance in this matter, with a little work we can all communicate with each other more effectively.

R/XO

14 October 2009

Because I'm a Horny Old Woman Just Like Meredith

Well, not just like Meredith who is a freaking nightmare embarrassment to older women who like younger men everywhere:

Meredith Vieira Hits on a Naval Officer - Watch more Funny Videos

Good Lord Mer, are you gonna go down on him right there?  I will agree he is nice looking.  And speaking of unattainable nice looking men, here's an old crush from the past

Not too shabby, eh?  You should see him in a kilt.  I dunno, I just have something about a man in full Highland dress.  Like this one:

Not my clan, not even my age range, but day-um!  He still looks good!  Excuse me while I go buy more batteries.

13 October 2009

Awesome patient.  Came in for preterm labor which was induced by her being hot for coke, meth and pot.  She wanted to make sure the tribe was the social services that took the baby because they had all her other kids (5 of them...she's in her early 20s, by the way), and she wanted to make sure the baby stayed in the family.  After her sleeping phase, she predictably followed with her eating phase, which was followed by the oh, so popular, complete bitch from hell phase.  (This is when the jones gets ugly).  "I want out of here; I have things to DO!"  Yeah?  Like an 8 ball of meth?  And this, my friends, is why I suffer from compassion exhaustion.  By the way, our little corner of the Pac Northwest already has 179 confirmed cases of the Piggy.  If you haven't already done so, get your freaking flu shots; seasonal now, Pig when it comes available....yeah, I'm talkin' to you!  And Peedee, one hopes you got a massive dose of Tamiflu because of your fellow cube dweller. 

12 October 2009

Sos cracked me up today. First, he came home from school talking about Columbus. He started singing this song (to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb):
Columbus sailed the ocean blue,
Ocean blue,
Ocean blue,
Columbus sailed the ocean blue,
In Fourteen Hundred Ninety-Two.

He also listed off the ships Columbus used: "the Nina, the Santa Maria and the Pinto."  Yeah?  Does the Pinto explode if you run into it from behind?
He then told me that FB didn't start out smart, but that he had to get his dendrites coated. I can only assume he's talking about a myelin sheath.

Once again feeling restless and bored, which is dangerous because it usually leads to me putting things on or in my skin.

I had a great pair of Z-Coil shoes for work (yes, I know they make me look special needs), and they were wonderful for relieving my back and leg pain.  Unfortunately, I was constantly catching my coils in the cables on the epidural cart, not to mention, after 3 years hard work, they were starting to look a bit dodgy.  Worn, splatters of miscellaneous bodily fluids, the base of the coils breaking off and flapping in the wind, you know.  I had seen these shoes called Masai walking shoes that simulate walking on soft ground/sand.  They purport to relieve back pain, straighten your posture, MIRACLE CURE!!  They were also muy expensive and I'm basically a cheap bastard, so I didn't want to cough up the dough.  This is the same theory I used for not wanting to buy a $500  Dyson, cuz I wasn't payin' that much for a vacuum.  And then I bought a $1500 Kirby instead.  I know.  Anyway, Sketchers now has a shoe that is basically the same as the Masai walker...although these claim to help you lose weight, tone up....whatever.  When I bought my new shoes (which so far, have worked out fine) the chickiepoo behind the counter told me she loved hers; they tone your butt and make your legs look great.  Now, this girl was probably pushing 300 pounds, and I know I sound like a bitch, but if she's noticed a difference in the muscle tone of her butt, these are major miracle shoes.  They she tells me to make sure to watch the DVD.  (Yes, they come with a how-to DVD ) My thought was, "Ya know, I've been walking for awhile now; I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

Next day off....encore viewing of ZOMBIELAND!!!

Snicker for the Day

 I thiefed this from TYWKIWDBI. It's only 60 seconds, so watch to the end.



10 October 2009

I hurt myself doing chair dips about 3 months ago and, being the nurse I am, actually went to a doctor to see what the hell was the matter about a week ago.  After some some range of motion experiments and a few x-rays the nurse practitioner decided I needed some home physical therapy exercises and, if those didn't work, we could go to real PT.  Yeah, like that's going to happen.  Those people are evil.  So, I tried the home PT (for about a day) and decided that wasn't going to work.  What I needed, I thought, was those things!  You know, those things, those....whackity balls!  I spent an entire day at work going, "What are those whackity balls?  You know, it has a wooden handle, a flexible metal neck, and a ball at the end and you go whacity, whackity, whackity with them and it makes your muscles feel better?"  No one had a clue what I was talking about.  "Google it!" they said.  Yeah, not Googling whackity balls at work.  "Google 'massage balls'"  Oh, even better.  Then I can get a search return and have Ben-Wa balls show up and a second later the Surf Control Assassination Squad will have me zip tied to a chair with a halogen interrogation light focused on my retinas.  "How about 'massage tools'?"  Are you people trying to get me fired???  I finally cornered our Clinical Nurse Manager (don't call me an Educator; I am Master's trained!  whatever.), and she knew immediately what I was talking about.  Like me on the scent of an apple fritter, she did not give up until she found what I was looking for.


They are called "Bongers" and now I'm really glad I didn't Google them at work.  I got called in at 0400 this morning and had the opportunity to work with my old night shift crew.  I showed them all my brand new Bongers and my Favorite Lesbian said, "Come bang me."  I told her I couldn't because I didn't play for her team, but I would smack the hell out of her back with them.


Here's a question:  is it possible that people absorb semen after sex until they're pregnant when, suddenly, it comes back out and they think their water is broken?  Come on!  You've never noticed this phenomenon until now?  And honey, you are a cute little 20 year old first time mom, but I already know you have sex; no need to have a freak out because your husband told me that you had it this morning.  I'm just saying.

Found some fun pictures while I was bored earlier:
 
Wow.  A poster than captures my essence


 Save the kittens, kids.  Hands off!


 Adolph Kitler

 
Bwaaahahahaha!  But, how do you

explain the guys on the end?


08 October 2009

Who's A Happy Girl???!

FINALLY saw Zombieland today.  And all I can saw was IT. WAS. AWESOME!  So hilarious that I even snorted.  Which caused the guy in the row behind me to laugh hysterically at me.  It's my pleasure to bring some joy into someone's life.  I think I may love Woody Harrelson again; and that's not easy for me to do.  Ahhh, can you not love a film that has Metallica, Van Halen, and Willy Nelson in the soundtrack as well as the main character having an overwhelming fear of clowns?  I submit you cannot.  Go see it.  Go see it now.  Then purchase the DVD when it comes out for more zombie pleasure.  Ooooo! Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland double feature....my nippies just got hard!

Couple of favorite quotes:

"God bless Rednecks!"
"You are a giant fucking cock block from some secret government agency."

06 October 2009

Wow. Just...wow. And not in a good way.

Holy crap, the world is full of strange and unusual people.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvSP0hRAk5U

Had a return of one of my favorite type of patient today. The "I'm allergic to most narcotics but only if they are legally obtained. I'm gonna pee hot for narcs I don't have prescriptions for and throw in some benzodiazepines while I'm at it." woot.

05 October 2009

One More Thing

Why are they fucking with my childhood memories by remaking The Stepfather? Terry O'Quinn scared the holy shi'ite out of me in 1987 and I hardly think some plastic surgeon is going to do the same
Apparently, I'm up too late; the dog just got up from my bedroom floor and is laying in my bathroom where it is dark and quiet. Either that or he doesn't like Carlos Mencia.

This is a song I stole from LT (now Captain)G before someone made him shut down his blog. Stay well boys and girls; sleep tight.

My chidren suffer from "half-assed-ness", which I, having been raised by a civil engineer, find infuriating. My dad's view is black is black, white is white, and a job worth doing is worth doing right the first time. Why do it more than once if you don't have to? My children take after their father, God bless him, who, if it didn't involve spreadsheets, was the most half assed person on the planet. He once put up a big toy (now replaced thank Hera) that did not have a plumb line on it. It looked like something that belonged in the World of Seuss! The children looked like drunken sailors everytime they got on it. I told FB to vacuum the floor, specifically mentioning how to vacuum and that he should pick items up off the floor instead of mowing them over. I heard the vacuum sound as if there was something stuck in the roller, heard FB turn it off, turn it back on, turn it off, turn it back on..."WHAT are you doing??" "There is something stuck in here." "Did you vacuum something up that you shouldn't have?" "No." I took the front off the vacuum, unlocked the belt and. lo and behold, wrapped around the belt spindle was a dress sock. A once brand-new, never been worn, and now completely useless dress sock.

SoS this morning came downstairs ready for school dressed in shorts. "Dude, 50 degrees equals no more shorts at school, go put on pants." He comes back downstairs, in pants, and says, "Mom, these are the pants with the zipper that fell off." Then why are you wearing them??

While I'm helping SoS with his homework I tell FB to go do his 30 minutes of reading. 10 minutes later he comes downstairs to ask if he can go on the computer. "You didn't read for 30 minutes; get back up there." I go upstairs about 5 minutes later and his radio is on, lights are off, and he is laying on the bed singing to himself. Well, okay, now you have 30 minutes of reading and no computer; howz them apples?
I'm almost sure they are in cahoots to drive me out of my ever lovin' mind.

Nursing Humor





I don't have any good stories these days because I am working with a resident and I'm making her do everything while I supervise. Hey, it's like a government job; only without the near impossibility of termination. Anyway, so I'm stealing something from a friend of mine. A patient came in the other day for a c-section and she had a tattoo on her abdomen, above her mons that said, "Kumonme." Break it down to three words. Then she had "69" and "Bang Me Daddy" on her back. We decided that was for her baby daddy if he got confused and needed directions he could just flip her back and forth.
Salt soaks are beneficial for a great many ailments. Epsom salt soaks ease tired, achy muscles, saline swishes can relieve irritated gums, the list goes on and on. Just make sure said salt soaks are moderate in temperature. "Boiling hot lava" does more damage than good I'm afraid, and makes you look like a great fool hopping around the house. :)

01 October 2009

Okay, This State Is Out of It's Minds; But Someone Has A Sense of Humor

http://www.comcast.net/articles/news-odd/20091001/US.ODD.Zombie.Emergency.Plan/

In related news; I work tomorrow so I can't see Zombieland until next week. I'm devastated.  I could get a babysitter this weekend, but I don't want to spend the money.  Not on the babysitter; the $10.50 for a full price movie.  Maybe for Gran Torino but there aren't many other movies I'd pay that much for.   Although, on second thought, Zombieland would be one of them!  Waaaaahhhhhh!

30 September 2009

HOLY SHI'ITE!

owie owie owie owie ow!  And ow again.
 The Kikanator has found his true calling as a Sith Lord.  That's quite a glowy eyed stare there.


"Perhaps you feel you're being treated unfairly....?


Quite a difference from Mr. Happy Face here.




Before bed I said to SoS, "Hey, your underwear is inside out."  He responded in a laconic manner, "Yeeeaaahhh, FB kept telling me that."  And you didn't change them beeeecaaauuuusseee........forget it; go to bed.  Kids.


Growing up,I always had a crush on Donny Osmond. Which was re-ignighted when I first saw him in Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. Mainly cuz he buffed up and looked hot in that wig. But there is his gorgeous voice to consider as well. Especially that crescendo at the end.

29 September 2009

That's Right! If You Can't Dazzle 'Em With Brilliance, Baffle 'Em With Bullshit!

Of, course, I think this is brilliance anyway. Reminds me of something my highschool team would have done

27 September 2009

NSFW Language, But Funny.

Especially if you've seen this movie or love Nicholson, De Niro, Pesci and Beaker!!

A Few Thoughts



He would have been 51 today. Four years and 12 days ago I was at work and got the phone call. On my rush home on darkened, deserted streets I didn't think about how I had just abandoned my patients with a yell over my shoulder to call another charge nurse to cover and another yell that, no I didn't need someone to drive me. I was thinking of how I left that day. I was impatient and short tempered. I was running late for work, the kids were fighting, I was trying to get everything situated for the night for our nephew Michael who watched Steve and the boys for me while I was at work. A large job for a 19 year old boy. I remember that Steve couldn't figure out how to turn the spoon over so he could eat and I had to feed him. This was a new and distressing development in his decline. I remember thinking, "Oh, shit. This isn't going to be too much longer." I didn't think it would be that day. I remember everything about that day so clearly, except the one thing that was most important. I was so hurried and so harried, I don't remember if I said "I love you." I said I'd see them in the morning, but did I look him in the eyes and tell him I loved him? I don't know. I know he knew, but it's something he needed to hear and I needed to say. Because I wouldn't be able to much longer. I wish I knew if I said it. So from that point on, I decided that I would say it to everyone I loved. My kids, my parents, those who hold the keys to my heart. If you feel it, say it, even if they don't feel it back. Unrequited love is okay, you know. At least you'll never have to regret a lost chance and they will know, no matter what else happens in their lives, there is someone who loves them. And that's important for everyone.

(I debated on this picture with the boys or the one where he's flipping me off on our honeymoon.  I was always "number one" to him!)

La la la la la la boom-de-ahdah-boom-de-ahdah

I stole this from Jennifer Crusie at Argh Ink and I loved it. Yeah, I like romance novels...bite me. I've also read more 800 page novels by dead white guys that anyone should have to. I'm eclectic dammit!



I also love the Discovery Channel. Especially when they blow stuff up. Perhaps I should have been a dude.

I love Europe

Mainly because of shit like this.

And to think he kept it up during his interrogation with the police. That is dedication and concentration!

26 September 2009

Arrr, this be the right name!

My pirate name is:
Mad Anne Read

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!
Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

25 September 2009

I'm thinking about a Monroe.  Perhaps someone should talk me down from this one.
On Thursday I took FB to the dentist to get a filling and to pull the tooth with a hole in it the size of the Crater Lake caldera. This is what happens when your mother SUCKS and can't get you in to the dentist in a expeditious manner. At least it was a baby tooth; if it were a permanent tooth we would probably be looking at a root canal. So, what did we do to celebrate? I took the kids to the fair for a sugar filled fun ride!  First I had to dodge the inquisitional squad at the school.

Me:  "Hi, this is FB and SoS's mom; they are going to be out for the whole day today."

School Nazi:  "Oh, okay.  Are they both sick?"

Me:  "Nope."

School Nazi:  *crickets*  "So, they're not sick?"

Me:  "Nope."  *click*  HA!  I don't have to tell you why they're out..they're MY kids you COW!

*ahem*  Back to our regularly scheduled program.  We drove to the fairgrounds, sneaking through the back way to avoid the one way street at the front entrance and the arbitrarily closed streets that are guarenteed to make you pull out your hair before you even hit the gates.  Then I laid down 10 bucks to park.  Okay.  THAT went up.  Next year we are taking the bus.  Entrance fee: $25 with a twofer ticket given to us by a nice senior couple at the gate and then $35 for lunch.  So, down $70 bucks and we haven't even done anything yet.  w00t!  However, the lunch tab is well worth it cuz it was time for a Meyer's burger!  Only two kinds of food can you eat at the fair Meyer's burgers or Longhorn BBQ, and since we ate the BBQ at the Spring Fair, it was time for the burger!



I realize it doesn't look like much....and to tell the truth it isn't. But it's an overpriced FAIRBURGER!!! How can you resist?? FB and SoS certainly couldn't.





Hamburger patty, cheese slice, grilled onions=heaven.

We then went to the ride ticket kiosk and bought the world famous Dizzy Pass! So named because you ride all the rides you want, all the times you want until you are dizzy and hungover. Which was pricey, but well worth the price since 15 ride tickets cost 20 bucks and all the rides they wanted to ride were 5-6 tickets each. Yikes. Now, in my youth, I would have KILLED for such a thing as a Dizzy Pass, back when I could ride all those spinny, twisty, droppy rides. Now my equilibrium is screwed up and I'm puking after the first one. Give me rollercoasters and I can ride those all day long. Or even rides like Disney's Tower of Terror; no sweat! Just don't spin me in circles like you're trying to centrifuge my hematocrit and I'll be happy.

This year the fair also had this:

I know it's hard to tell, but that would be a giant sized, inflatable Weird Al Yankovic.  There was an exhibit about brains featuring Weird Al's brain where he had a fantastic song about dendrites, synaptic gaps, and differing lobes of the brain.  We also learned the reason that zombies like brains so much, is because it may taste like chicken!  Awesome!

While the kids made themselves silly(er) on rides, I engaged in my favorite pastime of people watching and snarky self reflection of the examples I see.  I saw an awesome rat tail on a nearly bald man, a kid with an 'fro-hawk, a couple in matching circa 1970 football coach short-shorts, but sadly, no left jug tats.  Which is surprising, considering the plethora of which were on display last year.  I did overhear this coversation which was fantastic

Anonymous Fair Worker #1 :  "Well, it is a good way to spend...."
Anonymouse Fair Worker#2  "Unemployment?"

Hee.  I have no idea if they were speaking of the cross-section of humanity they had seen in the last 2 weeks, but after dealing with my client base the last 10 years, I'm gonna go with yes.

All good things must come to an end, and I can only handle 4 hours of walking through crowds of people and being freaked out by carnies.  But no fair experience is complete with out the coup de grace:  the Elephant Ear!


Hot, deep fried honey dough, spread with a butter-like substance and liberally covered with cinnamon and sugar.  Holy crap!  Most awesome.  It took the three of about 3 seconds to reduce this to a grease stained paper towel with a smattering of crystalline goodness.

21 September 2009

I love Christopher Walken and this guy nails him perfectly! 

bwahahahahaa!


My life is a big, fat cosmic joke of late. I can hear the fates chuckling evilly and plotting new and exorbitant twists of fortune. As it happens, I am Gumby, philosophically speaking.

Found a new book called Classic Literature Signs on to Facebook with such status updates as "Ophelia joined the group Maidens That Don't Float" and "Lady Macbeth could use a good stain remover." HA! Why do people fart in stairwells? Especially if they can hear the door opening one floor above them? Is it an altruistic effort to keep one's co-worker's sinuses clear? Or perhaps a new form of anti viral in this cold and flu season?

I want to wrap my hands around my children's necks and squuuuueeeeeeezzzzzeeee until their little eyes bug out of their sockets. Or at least get the oldest one to stop lurking like an overgrown garden gnome, not announcing his presence in the dark of night, while I wait for the spin cycle to finish. And then act as though I was the perpetrator when I scream like a fishwife.

Got my flu shot today, which I was planning on getting anyway, but would have been press ganged into by my employer overlords. The choices being get jabbed or wear a mask during all patient care for the next 6-8 months. They marked each of us with a red badge tag like we're in a gulag, making it easier to distinguish the protected from the unclean. My arm hurts like a sumbitch, due I'm sure to my delicate flower constitution; but Bill and the Nav both have to suffer through a series of Anthrax innoculations, making me a complete candy ass for complaining so I'll just shut the hell up now.

What's with the chick in Costco examining each and every egg out of a dozen and a half for any infinitesimal flaw like she had Steve Austin's bionic eye complete with cross hairs, and then replacing all flawed eggs with eggs from a separate container, equally well examined until she had 18 whole and perfect eggs. What the hell lady, I just want some eggs and milk. Open the carton, give a quick look and, barring any huge breaches in the integrity of the shells, move the fuck on. WHat was with the cross hair in Steve Austin's eye anyway? As far as I can tell, he was never lining up a shot; wouldn't it just be a distraction? Or did it just help to judge distance. And how come Jaime Sommers couldn't hear shit unless she pulled her hair away from her bionic ear? Was her hair that thick and luxurious? I'm just sayin'.

20 September 2009

Today at church I noticed we'd had sort of a baby boom (not surprising since I've been in the trenches of that baby boom, so to speak) and I noticed that one of the babies looked EXACTLY like Hugo Chavez!  I about fell off my chair!
He specifically looked like this picture of Chavez:


Would you want to breastfeed that face? That's a mother's love for ya there, boy.

19 September 2009

Oh, To Be Young Again

(910): so just incase you wake up on the couch wondering how you got there--you came home at 7am, put ice in a cup--then you proceeded to put the cup in the microwave and melt it because you "wanted water". you then, fell down the stairs while saying "you don't know me" then crawled to the couch.

13 September 2009

Okay, I did something original

This was the project I was supposed to start and finish on Labor Day weekend.  I actually started it on Labor Day and it's still not finished.  Well, it's mostly finished; just the touch up work left.  As FB is in 5th grade he was getting a little tense about his room still being a full on Spongebob extravaganza.  So being the (certifiably insane) mom I am, I agreed that we could change his room to whatever color scheme he desired.  His desire turned out to be Seahawks colors.  Ooookaaaay.  We trooped over to Home Depot and bought the required, and as luck would have it, licensed colors, and I prepared to embark on my newest expression of creativity.  First, the ceiling would have to be primered because it was Pineapple Purple.  (Yes, I know, pineapples aren't purple, but I think that the Spongebob paint was trying to teach young children alliteration.)  So, I had to use a grey primer as a base coat for the oh, so BRIGHT Seahawk Green.  It took two coats to cover the purple and then two more coats of the green to cover the primer.  As the paint continuously fell off the roller and into my left eye, I couldn't help but think that couldn't be good for my Lasik surgery, even if it was four years ago.

I'm a less than clean painter.  In fact, I don't have any idea how people can paint and not get any on them.  I end up looking like a Jackson Pollack painting.  Because I am horribly messy, I tend to paint only in one of the two designated oversized paint shirts and underwear; thus saving myself the aggravation of getting paint on good clothes and $50 dollar bras. 

You will notice that the Seahawks colors, excluding the green, are very close in hue.  Although in these pictures, the colors actually do look different.  In FBs room, you have to get your nose on the wall to notice the difference.  His room already had horizontal stripes and I just planned on painting over them.  As I was taping up the dark stripes (and already dreading the pain in the ass this was going to be) I realized these colors were so close, that no one would be able to tell when one started and the other ended.  Then I stepped back and realized that if I imagined the tape to be white stripes; that might look cool.  I started painting the darkest of the blue and ended up dumping a quarter of a gallon of this paint on his carpet.  His tan carpet.  Good thing the kids were sleeping or their vocabularies would have expanded exponentially.  So, 2 am found me Googling "how to get latex paint out of carpet."  Apparently, Simple Green and Acetone are the favorite choices.  Simple Green may be one of my new favorite cleaners.  My other favorite being Greased Lightening.  Far out; one is non-toxic and one is probably classified as a carcinogen.  Best of both worlds.

The freaking white stripes took two hours to primer and two hours to paint white.  And since I was too lazy to to go downstairs to get the white primer, I used the grey primer.  Which resulted in me needing to put two coats on the stripes for a total of 6 fun filled striping hours.  I was also wearing a thong while I painted the stripes and ended up sitting on the paint lid resulting in a big white circle on my big white ass.

I should have completed the touch up before putting his room back together, but I couldn't face another night of the boys staying in SoS's room on the bunkbeds and wrestling and giggling half the night while I bang on the walls and yell from the next room.  That and the fact that all his stuff was a big pile of ass (thanks for that phrase; it's one of my new faves) on the second floor landing for over a week.  They needed a map and a Sherpa to find their way to the bathroom. So, in 7 years I have painted 2 of the 3 bathrooms, the kids' rooms (FB's twice), the family room and kitchen and that's it.  Never let it be said I rush into interior design.   I've also informed FB that that is the absolute last time I am painting his room.  Ever.