Welcome to my blog. Now go away! Ok, don't go away. Stick around and read a little bit. Those that are single and childless, please read on and take all of these posts as a warning for what lies ahead. Download monk chants and get to know them. Find a sweet monk retreat, shave your head and pray....all day with no talking. Get used to it because that is the better lifestyle. It is easier to be silent around others who are bound to do the same. Read on. There will be more posts to follow.
Thanks for stopping by.
Saturday, October 24, 2020
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
Just.....Don't....
This COVID thing has inspired me to bet my Ph.D. in common sense. Celebrities have a platform, sadly, and I am not sure they are using it properly. Animal rights....OK, fine. Do that. Focus on something productive. But profiting off of the COVID crisis by recommending face masks "that work," well, I would rather spend the night in a graveyard. It's like taking marital advice from a Beverly Hills housewife. If you have an audience, choose something people can get behind. Also, AUDIENCE....the shit celebrities say is not fucking gold. Don't be a lemming. Don't leap because they said so. Case in point...
I cannot recall which celebrity said it. I saw it on Instagram (mistake number one) and there she was, sitting in her vehicle pitching the crocheted, knitted mask on her face, no surgical mask underneath and she said something like "if you have to go out in public, go out in style." Can you say that into my good ear? That thing has more holes in it than the Warren Commission report. I know you have lots of money and stuff, but in the video, your husband/boyfriend and child(ren) had on surgical masks, suggested by the CDC as better than....well, what you have. The tolerance of your chauffeur indicates that either you don't have a gag reflex or your royalty checks are enough to satiate his desire to hit you in the face with a brick. Whatever the case, a knitted face mask will not stop your man's pearl jam, let alone a viral particle measured in nanometers. Why in the actual FUCK would you suggest this as good advice? Chalk it up to maintain relevance since swallowing a balloon sword got boring. When they said you can "sew your own facemask," it meant using cloth. Not yarn. Sew, not knit. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a twatwaffle. I read that somewhere.
It got worse, though, as a few days later, I saw someone in a grocery store (rhymes with Safeway) wearing a knitted facemask. It was pointy, like an N95 but obviously not an N95. I was leaving, having grabbed the essentials I needed but saw this woman come in, grab a cart, a sani-wipe to wipe the spunk off the handle of her cart, and wander over to the produce section. All of a sudden, I wasn't quite done. I put my bags in a black cart and followed behind her. Over and over again, she pulled her mask down to smell the produce. Odd little fetish. So, I moved across from her smelling the Russet potatoes, my surgical mask pulled off my nose so I could smell, mirroring her EXACT actions with her knitted mask full of viral gateways. My nostril inhales were exaggerated of course, mostly due to my attention-seeking behavior but primarily for her to look my way. I wanted her to say it, to ask me why I was removing my CDC approved level 3 surgical mask to smell produce. We did this waltz for a couple of minutes and she finally stopped to watch what I was doing, leering like a Siamese cat waiting to fuck up some curtains when no one was looking and blame the parakeet. Then it came..."what are you doing?" I replied that I was smelling produce....because it was Thursday and my therapist indicated it is fruit smelling day...and all the bars are closed....so this was plan B. "But why are you pulling your mask down?" Well, because you are. Actually, you don't even need that thing on your face because 3,500,000,000 virus particles can get right through the SMALLEST of those holes on your face. I figured 'when in Rome' and all....so here I am loving the odor of perfume de Pomegranate (sniffs lemon).
I slowly pulled my mask over my face and turned to walk down the aisle, turning slightly as I rounded the corner to see this woman standing there holding a cantaloupe, the hamsters running rapidly inside her head, attempting to fully process her own actions and why some complete stranger thought they were 'copyable.' She looked like Instagram was something her Jitterbug phone could not support. Someone told her that craft day at (insert retirement community here) was mass-producing things to help the public out when in reality, someone should tell the assembly line what they are cranking out is a worse idea than eating the pulled pork sandwich you left in your car during the summertime. Or drinking kiddie pool water. Or tattling on the Clintons. Or covering your genitals in honey and sitting on an ant pile.....
I cannot recall which celebrity said it. I saw it on Instagram (mistake number one) and there she was, sitting in her vehicle pitching the crocheted, knitted mask on her face, no surgical mask underneath and she said something like "if you have to go out in public, go out in style." Can you say that into my good ear? That thing has more holes in it than the Warren Commission report. I know you have lots of money and stuff, but in the video, your husband/boyfriend and child(ren) had on surgical masks, suggested by the CDC as better than....well, what you have. The tolerance of your chauffeur indicates that either you don't have a gag reflex or your royalty checks are enough to satiate his desire to hit you in the face with a brick. Whatever the case, a knitted face mask will not stop your man's pearl jam, let alone a viral particle measured in nanometers. Why in the actual FUCK would you suggest this as good advice? Chalk it up to maintain relevance since swallowing a balloon sword got boring. When they said you can "sew your own facemask," it meant using cloth. Not yarn. Sew, not knit. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a twatwaffle. I read that somewhere.
It got worse, though, as a few days later, I saw someone in a grocery store (rhymes with Safeway) wearing a knitted facemask. It was pointy, like an N95 but obviously not an N95. I was leaving, having grabbed the essentials I needed but saw this woman come in, grab a cart, a sani-wipe to wipe the spunk off the handle of her cart, and wander over to the produce section. All of a sudden, I wasn't quite done. I put my bags in a black cart and followed behind her. Over and over again, she pulled her mask down to smell the produce. Odd little fetish. So, I moved across from her smelling the Russet potatoes, my surgical mask pulled off my nose so I could smell, mirroring her EXACT actions with her knitted mask full of viral gateways. My nostril inhales were exaggerated of course, mostly due to my attention-seeking behavior but primarily for her to look my way. I wanted her to say it, to ask me why I was removing my CDC approved level 3 surgical mask to smell produce. We did this waltz for a couple of minutes and she finally stopped to watch what I was doing, leering like a Siamese cat waiting to fuck up some curtains when no one was looking and blame the parakeet. Then it came..."what are you doing?" I replied that I was smelling produce....because it was Thursday and my therapist indicated it is fruit smelling day...and all the bars are closed....so this was plan B. "But why are you pulling your mask down?" Well, because you are. Actually, you don't even need that thing on your face because 3,500,000,000 virus particles can get right through the SMALLEST of those holes on your face. I figured 'when in Rome' and all....so here I am loving the odor of perfume de Pomegranate (sniffs lemon).
I slowly pulled my mask over my face and turned to walk down the aisle, turning slightly as I rounded the corner to see this woman standing there holding a cantaloupe, the hamsters running rapidly inside her head, attempting to fully process her own actions and why some complete stranger thought they were 'copyable.' She looked like Instagram was something her Jitterbug phone could not support. Someone told her that craft day at (insert retirement community here) was mass-producing things to help the public out when in reality, someone should tell the assembly line what they are cranking out is a worse idea than eating the pulled pork sandwich you left in your car during the summertime. Or drinking kiddie pool water. Or tattling on the Clintons. Or covering your genitals in honey and sitting on an ant pile.....
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Wicked Witches
Something wicked this way comes. I sensed it the minute I pulled my mask down to lick my fingers so I could get a produce bag open. It was almost like slow motion. As I replaced my mask and looked up, two masked beings levitated in my direction, effortlessly sidestepping the produce stands. They may have even blurred a little as they shape-shifted towards the potatoes.
"Sir, did you lick your fingerssshisssssss?"
I shuddered a little. Remember Clash of the Titans? The hero has to go see three old, blind witches that share an eye? These two spirit people reminded me of those witches. Also, I am pretty sure whichever one asked me that question voiced Golem in Lord of the Rings. Stupid Hobbitseses. I answered the "woman's" question with an astounding "absolutely, I licked my fingers." I felt something hit my face. It was the first drop of shit from the inevitable storm that is to follow.
We sat there in silence for a second or two, me wondering what my penalty was for licking my fingers (not that I gave a shit) and them, maybe, not expecting the fact that brutal honesty is a thing with me. The shorter fog-lady seemed to look around, maybe trying to find someone in authority who could come listen to their tale and chastise me for trying to open a slippery produce bag without saliva. She quickly found this poor late-teens box boy and summoned him over to our soiree.
"Sir, this man licked his fingers to open his produce bag." I made eye contact with the kid and we shared the same thought.
Thing two piped in and asked what he was going to do about it. Sweat began to bead on this poor kid's forehead. He swallowed hard. A tumbleweed blew by us as we stood in awkward silence wondering what was going to happen next. I decided it was time to break the silence and I peered to look at the shoulder of one of the witches. They jolted backward as if I had pulled my junk out. To calm them I simply stated I was looking for the symbol of the Third Reich. They gazed in awe, shocked that I would say such a thing. Box boy smiled, almost laughed. Thing one sneered at the box boy who quickly bowed his head down to avoid being turned into a newt. I asked out loud "do you believe wearing masks protects you or me or even Lester here (points to poor box boy) from the plague? Both them proudly exclaimed YES. (clears throat)
"Cool. Me too. But you need to cover your mouth AND nose. Leaving your nose exposed causes droplets that bypass those gnarly hairs to enter my space. Phlegm or no phlegm, you are potentially infecting those around you by policing the bagging practices of the patrons in this establishment while leaving your nose exposed. Since you aren't outwardly Third Reich I can only blame your overconfidence on your mainstream media addiction for your fact gathering. Leaving your nose exposed is like fucking with the top of the condom cut off, wondering why your pussy lips look like they grew a beard and it feels like you're pissing needles. Speaking of which, is there any tread on those tires or is it like throwing a hotdog down a hallway? A little advice for you that box boy would agree with but can't lest he lose his job. This is a grocery store. Go get some groceries. As it stands now, it appears you are passing the time getting in everyone's business because you have nothing better to do. Get a cart or a basket. Start with aisle 3 where there is nose hair removal kits and wart removal for the pre-cancerous lesion on your left nostril. Pull your masks up ladies...your witch is showing.
"Sir, did you lick your fingerssshisssssss?"
I shuddered a little. Remember Clash of the Titans? The hero has to go see three old, blind witches that share an eye? These two spirit people reminded me of those witches. Also, I am pretty sure whichever one asked me that question voiced Golem in Lord of the Rings. Stupid Hobbitseses. I answered the "woman's" question with an astounding "absolutely, I licked my fingers." I felt something hit my face. It was the first drop of shit from the inevitable storm that is to follow.
We sat there in silence for a second or two, me wondering what my penalty was for licking my fingers (not that I gave a shit) and them, maybe, not expecting the fact that brutal honesty is a thing with me. The shorter fog-lady seemed to look around, maybe trying to find someone in authority who could come listen to their tale and chastise me for trying to open a slippery produce bag without saliva. She quickly found this poor late-teens box boy and summoned him over to our soiree.
"Sir, this man licked his fingers to open his produce bag." I made eye contact with the kid and we shared the same thought.
Thing two piped in and asked what he was going to do about it. Sweat began to bead on this poor kid's forehead. He swallowed hard. A tumbleweed blew by us as we stood in awkward silence wondering what was going to happen next. I decided it was time to break the silence and I peered to look at the shoulder of one of the witches. They jolted backward as if I had pulled my junk out. To calm them I simply stated I was looking for the symbol of the Third Reich. They gazed in awe, shocked that I would say such a thing. Box boy smiled, almost laughed. Thing one sneered at the box boy who quickly bowed his head down to avoid being turned into a newt. I asked out loud "do you believe wearing masks protects you or me or even Lester here (points to poor box boy) from the plague? Both them proudly exclaimed YES. (clears throat)
"Cool. Me too. But you need to cover your mouth AND nose. Leaving your nose exposed causes droplets that bypass those gnarly hairs to enter my space. Phlegm or no phlegm, you are potentially infecting those around you by policing the bagging practices of the patrons in this establishment while leaving your nose exposed. Since you aren't outwardly Third Reich I can only blame your overconfidence on your mainstream media addiction for your fact gathering. Leaving your nose exposed is like fucking with the top of the condom cut off, wondering why your pussy lips look like they grew a beard and it feels like you're pissing needles. Speaking of which, is there any tread on those tires or is it like throwing a hotdog down a hallway? A little advice for you that box boy would agree with but can't lest he lose his job. This is a grocery store. Go get some groceries. As it stands now, it appears you are passing the time getting in everyone's business because you have nothing better to do. Get a cart or a basket. Start with aisle 3 where there is nose hair removal kits and wart removal for the pre-cancerous lesion on your left nostril. Pull your masks up ladies...your witch is showing.
COVID Karen
This COVID-19 ha created a serious hoarding problem. Before it began, I always thought the Costco packs of toilet paper were a bit excessive. Not so much that you have 30 rolls of toilet paper but that you have to store a Mini Cooper...somewhere. Then COVID hit. One pack turned into 10 packages which would equate to a real-life Tetris game in your shopping cart. Not to mention you need to be running because the people who didn't get toilet paper are fast behind you hoping you hit a crack in the concrete and you eat shit sending "gold nuggets" flying to the floor. I imagine it would look a lot like someone dropping a tray of casino chips on the casino floor. Those around you are not helping you pick up your stash. You are flat out getting jacked. Same principle. Why toilet paper, though? Hoard Orville Redenbacher or Tostitos and salsa. Shit, goldfish crackers for the win...but COVID doesn't liquify your stool or cause IBS. I laughed at the Costco lines and the people sitting for hours to go inside and find out they ran out of toilet paper 8 minutes after opening. Almost like a Clay Aiken concert on Ticketmaster. Not quite fast enough.
Then, water became an issue. Just in case COVID became a water-borne illness, cases and cases of water were loaded into the shopping carts. This is the worst shopping spree ever. "Karen, you will have 60 minutes to fill your cart with anything you'd like. It's on us. Ready?? FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO!" TP and water....and an aggravated sciatica...all in 8 minutes. Why not drink tap water? Well, those answers will vary. The government is spiking our water for population control, or just 'COVID.' Either answer makes my balls shrink up inside my stomach. Best birth control in the world is watching humanity fuck itself. People don't realize that the empty bottles go in a landfill and where this is one dipshit with 5 cases of water, surely there are thousands more, thousands of bottles; you get the idea. Unless people are melting the plastic down to make meth spoons? Nevermind. Those two instances blow me away at the level of stupidity that now exists thanks to COVID. We can't even hoard properly. My wife wanted a jar of grapefruit slices. We got to Costco and the line was around the back of the building. Nope...I'll can the shit myself, but I'm not waiting in line 5 hours to get that, or anything really.
Really, the WORST thing I have come across are the armchair doctors who got their medical training on Google parting the Red Sea with their logic on how to keep people healthy out in public. While in Safeway, I had a cart of 19 items. I was standing in line in a regular check out line which happened to be right next to the Express line (15 items or less). I don't inconvenience other people because I feel entitled. But there is Karen, wearing ski goggles, a clothespin pinching her nose, and a respirator mask with two cartridge-less canister holes, staring at me and inviting me over to the Express lane. The conversation went a little like this...
Karen - You can come over to this line (waives hand, clothespin wiggling with every....fucking....wave).
Me - Nah, I am OK. I have more than 15 items.
Karen - It's OK, she isn't counting them (waves some more, wiggle wiggle wiggle)
Me - No thank you. Going skiing later?
Karen - (turns to accompanying male) Why doesn't he just come over here? Is he special or something? (turns back to me)
Me - I'm right here. I can hear you. Is that 'special' reference a smack on my lack of desire in having you stand behind me with your Nightmare Before Christmas attire? Or is it more chromosomal in nature?
Karen - I just think it's weird you won't come over to this line.
Me - I think it's weird that you are wearing ski goggles and a clothespin with the underwear still attached.
Karen - (touches clothespin). There's no underwear there.
Me - (rolls eyes). No shit Karen
Karen - How did you know my name was Karen?
Me - (laughing) Just a guess.. Could have been your Safeway name tag (no actual name tag, but she looked anyway), could have been your ski goggles, your lack of social tact, your desire to control shit that is none of your business, your clothespin, your mittens or your mismatched socks. There are a plethora of things about you that make you Karen, from head to toe. The fact you actually ARE named Karen, well shit, that's just a gift, really. Is there a BOLO out on you?
Karen - BOLO?
Me - Be on the lookout....for Karen, the COVID nightmare. You buy your shit, I will buy mine, in this line, where your nose isn't going to mistakenly end up tickling my asshole.
Karen - (stares silently at me)
Stay safe in the world of COVID Karen and ALWAYS, ALWAYS, take the medical professional's advice when it relates to washing your hands. Karen's has the cleanest mittens in town.
Then, water became an issue. Just in case COVID became a water-borne illness, cases and cases of water were loaded into the shopping carts. This is the worst shopping spree ever. "Karen, you will have 60 minutes to fill your cart with anything you'd like. It's on us. Ready?? FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO!" TP and water....and an aggravated sciatica...all in 8 minutes. Why not drink tap water? Well, those answers will vary. The government is spiking our water for population control, or just 'COVID.' Either answer makes my balls shrink up inside my stomach. Best birth control in the world is watching humanity fuck itself. People don't realize that the empty bottles go in a landfill and where this is one dipshit with 5 cases of water, surely there are thousands more, thousands of bottles; you get the idea. Unless people are melting the plastic down to make meth spoons? Nevermind. Those two instances blow me away at the level of stupidity that now exists thanks to COVID. We can't even hoard properly. My wife wanted a jar of grapefruit slices. We got to Costco and the line was around the back of the building. Nope...I'll can the shit myself, but I'm not waiting in line 5 hours to get that, or anything really.
Really, the WORST thing I have come across are the armchair doctors who got their medical training on Google parting the Red Sea with their logic on how to keep people healthy out in public. While in Safeway, I had a cart of 19 items. I was standing in line in a regular check out line which happened to be right next to the Express line (15 items or less). I don't inconvenience other people because I feel entitled. But there is Karen, wearing ski goggles, a clothespin pinching her nose, and a respirator mask with two cartridge-less canister holes, staring at me and inviting me over to the Express lane. The conversation went a little like this...
Karen - You can come over to this line (waives hand, clothespin wiggling with every....fucking....wave).
Me - Nah, I am OK. I have more than 15 items.
Karen - It's OK, she isn't counting them (waves some more, wiggle wiggle wiggle)
Me - No thank you. Going skiing later?
Karen - (turns to accompanying male) Why doesn't he just come over here? Is he special or something? (turns back to me)
Me - I'm right here. I can hear you. Is that 'special' reference a smack on my lack of desire in having you stand behind me with your Nightmare Before Christmas attire? Or is it more chromosomal in nature?
Karen - I just think it's weird you won't come over to this line.
Me - I think it's weird that you are wearing ski goggles and a clothespin with the underwear still attached.
Karen - (touches clothespin). There's no underwear there.
Me - (rolls eyes). No shit Karen
Karen - How did you know my name was Karen?
Me - (laughing) Just a guess.. Could have been your Safeway name tag (no actual name tag, but she looked anyway), could have been your ski goggles, your lack of social tact, your desire to control shit that is none of your business, your clothespin, your mittens or your mismatched socks. There are a plethora of things about you that make you Karen, from head to toe. The fact you actually ARE named Karen, well shit, that's just a gift, really. Is there a BOLO out on you?
Karen - BOLO?
Me - Be on the lookout....for Karen, the COVID nightmare. You buy your shit, I will buy mine, in this line, where your nose isn't going to mistakenly end up tickling my asshole.
Karen - (stares silently at me)
Stay safe in the world of COVID Karen and ALWAYS, ALWAYS, take the medical professional's advice when it relates to washing your hands. Karen's has the cleanest mittens in town.
Monday, January 21, 2019
Pregnancy and the Gall Bladder
I am not sure where these random thoughts come from. The above title represents a statement made a few years ago. It has been discussed and discussed, with much laughter and tears, but I have never written about it. Not sure why. I was given ample opportunity to do so. Maybe I felt bad for the person that asked. Maybe I didn't want to appear as if I was a snobby medical jargon-type person. Yet here I am being fearless with the incompetence of another. ::sigh::
When I first got out of nursing school, I was ready to conquer the world. I mean, now Grey's Anatomy was more entertaining since I kinda knew what they were talking about. I could tear it apart knowing full well a large bore needle is not best for drawing blood out of a 4-year old. Pfft....Hollywood and medicine. Oh the errors.
Then I got into Occupational Health and figured this was a whole new world to learn. Although it is true that there are some difference being an Nurse in a manufacturing facility, understanding anatomy and physiology still serves its purpose. I would never make someone feel stupid for asking a question about medical stuff. For the most part, the questions are fairly benign and thought provoking. There are instances however, where there is a serious "WTF" that is uttered in my head; a cock of the eyebrow as if to say....WTF. You know when you see a unicorn in a dress ordering a Long Island Iced Tea on a Tuesday...texting when you know that a cloven hoof cannot possibly use a touch screen? Makes you wonder, right?
So during my first couple of months I worked with a temp in my office. The temp's sole job was data entry. She worked 4 feet away from me. On a good day, one ear bled. Some days, I would act as if I had IBS or "ate something that didn't agree with me." Other days, I would put in ear buds to make the noise stop. Every day she had a question about something medical. What happens when your eyes get blurry? Are tears always salty? Why can't our bodies fully digest corn? Are kidney beans meant to look like kidneys or taco shells? One day, there was a question that, to this day, makes me believe that people can, in fact, be as dense as a dying sun. I shiver to think of it...
"I know the answer but I'll ask anyway. Can you get pregnant if you still have your gall bladder?"
I had to pause. She said, "I know the answer." Yet, she is asking me...and giving me an option. Shit. How do I handle this? I believe it was Friday. I was giddy. So I said what every red-blooded, medically trained, national board passing nurse would say.
"Pffffft. No you can't." Let's see where this goes.
"Yeah I kinda figured that."
I had to stare at my computer screen to hide the fact I was about erupt in laughter. I understand that she was not a nurse, doctor, medical assistant or a student of the like. However, she had the housing-of-the-fetus parts. She even pro-created, meaning she went through 9-months of education while pregnant. She had sex-ed growing up and I cannot fathom that the gall bladder, or lack there of, was ever discussed as being a necessity for making another human being. I sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, going through my head any and all scenarios that I had come across in all of my pre-nursing training where the gall bladder could have been discussed....ever....as it related to making a baby. Nothing came to mind. Nada...nine....nol....
I turned and looked at her and apologized and said that you don't need a gall bladder to get pregnant. It held bile, not babies. It was the first sandbox, however, that potentially the body helped fill. But....no, it held no significance in the procreation process. She stared back blankly. I thought maybe she had tilted her head wrong and the switch turned off. I stood up and her eyes followed. I asked her if she was OK. She paused, briefly, and said "OHHHHHH....I thought you said you needed your gall bladder to get pregnant. I misunderstood."
(strategic pause)
You don't need your gall bladder, really, for anything. It is kind of a useless organ; a reservoir, a bag o' bile. The gall bladder isn't even green. The books lie. So does the Internet. Those illustrations are way wrong. So whether you are getting pregnant, planning on becoming pregnant in the near future, or are 6-years old and wonder why the UPS guy is sitting in your kitchen every day while Daddy is at work, the gall bladder's presence doesn't matter, OK?
I'll never forget the look on her face as she cocked her head looked down to the floor briefly and said, "then where does the pee come from?"
I still have the scar on my forehead where it hit the desk.
When I first got out of nursing school, I was ready to conquer the world. I mean, now Grey's Anatomy was more entertaining since I kinda knew what they were talking about. I could tear it apart knowing full well a large bore needle is not best for drawing blood out of a 4-year old. Pfft....Hollywood and medicine. Oh the errors.
Then I got into Occupational Health and figured this was a whole new world to learn. Although it is true that there are some difference being an Nurse in a manufacturing facility, understanding anatomy and physiology still serves its purpose. I would never make someone feel stupid for asking a question about medical stuff. For the most part, the questions are fairly benign and thought provoking. There are instances however, where there is a serious "WTF" that is uttered in my head; a cock of the eyebrow as if to say....WTF. You know when you see a unicorn in a dress ordering a Long Island Iced Tea on a Tuesday...texting when you know that a cloven hoof cannot possibly use a touch screen? Makes you wonder, right?
So during my first couple of months I worked with a temp in my office. The temp's sole job was data entry. She worked 4 feet away from me. On a good day, one ear bled. Some days, I would act as if I had IBS or "ate something that didn't agree with me." Other days, I would put in ear buds to make the noise stop. Every day she had a question about something medical. What happens when your eyes get blurry? Are tears always salty? Why can't our bodies fully digest corn? Are kidney beans meant to look like kidneys or taco shells? One day, there was a question that, to this day, makes me believe that people can, in fact, be as dense as a dying sun. I shiver to think of it...
"I know the answer but I'll ask anyway. Can you get pregnant if you still have your gall bladder?"
I had to pause. She said, "I know the answer." Yet, she is asking me...and giving me an option. Shit. How do I handle this? I believe it was Friday. I was giddy. So I said what every red-blooded, medically trained, national board passing nurse would say.
"Pffffft. No you can't." Let's see where this goes.
"Yeah I kinda figured that."
I had to stare at my computer screen to hide the fact I was about erupt in laughter. I understand that she was not a nurse, doctor, medical assistant or a student of the like. However, she had the housing-of-the-fetus parts. She even pro-created, meaning she went through 9-months of education while pregnant. She had sex-ed growing up and I cannot fathom that the gall bladder, or lack there of, was ever discussed as being a necessity for making another human being. I sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, going through my head any and all scenarios that I had come across in all of my pre-nursing training where the gall bladder could have been discussed....ever....as it related to making a baby. Nothing came to mind. Nada...nine....nol....
I turned and looked at her and apologized and said that you don't need a gall bladder to get pregnant. It held bile, not babies. It was the first sandbox, however, that potentially the body helped fill. But....no, it held no significance in the procreation process. She stared back blankly. I thought maybe she had tilted her head wrong and the switch turned off. I stood up and her eyes followed. I asked her if she was OK. She paused, briefly, and said "OHHHHHH....I thought you said you needed your gall bladder to get pregnant. I misunderstood."
(strategic pause)
You don't need your gall bladder, really, for anything. It is kind of a useless organ; a reservoir, a bag o' bile. The gall bladder isn't even green. The books lie. So does the Internet. Those illustrations are way wrong. So whether you are getting pregnant, planning on becoming pregnant in the near future, or are 6-years old and wonder why the UPS guy is sitting in your kitchen every day while Daddy is at work, the gall bladder's presence doesn't matter, OK?
I'll never forget the look on her face as she cocked her head looked down to the floor briefly and said, "then where does the pee come from?"
I still have the scar on my forehead where it hit the desk.
Monday, April 03, 2017
Leave Me Be
I am a hunter/gatherer when it comes to shopping. I believe this a predominantly male trait. Not a slam against the female gender at all. Speaking from my own personal perspective, my wife goes to the store for milk and then needs help unloading her groceries when she gets home. I had no idea it took more than one person t unload a gallon of milk. Maybe she got three gallons. Low and behold, the trip to get milk cost well over $100. That’s OK. We needed things. I get it. However, going to the pet store makes for an easy trip for me. I am in and out, typically, without any contact with people in the store, except for the checker. Not this time however.
We have two dogs. One was raised in prison, primarily. Not since he was a puppy, but he was a stray; a runaway maybe from a bad life. He is a Ridge Dog, a temporary “inmate” at Coyote Ridge prison, trained by the inmates there. It is a great program. I imagine, prior to his incarceration, he ate whatever he could to stay alive. Like most strays, he adapted to whatever food he found. His digestive tract is pretty solid. He gets Pedigree dog food. It comes in a 50lb. and it’s cheap. He is healthy, happy, has regular bowel movements with it; all in all, it is a win-win for everyone.
Jack, on the other hand, like most animals with a brachiocephalic face, farts and burps and has the digestive system of an infant. I think English Bulldogs are born with IBS. He is on a grain free, poultry free food. I recently spent $300 when he had the runs to come out of the vet with a diagnosis of “he has the runs.” No Giardia, or any other type of parasite. Frankly, I pull out pieces of plastic from his butt all the time. Sometimes plastic, sometimes fabric of some sort. We once pulled out a dollar bill. I am wondering if any Benjamin’s are in there? I am getting side tracked. Point is, his food is a tad spendy and it does not come in a 50 lb. bag. If it did, I would be broke.
I had a general idea where Jack’s food was. I got the biggest bag my debit card would allow. Then, I was looking for the bag of Pedigree. The unfortunate event was walking too far, and making eye contact with a sales/stock person wearing a Petco bib. I quick turned around and headed back the way I came since she was in the cat food aisle. I found the Pedigree…lifted the bag up and put it in the cart.
**BAM**
There she was. Staring at me.
Stalker (or stocker, you pick) : I noticed you were getting two different foods. Can I ask why?
Me: no
Stalker: I can recommend a different food than the Pedigree brand. That has a lot of fillers in it.
Me: Why do you carry it then?
Stalker:
Me: I am good, thank you.
Stalker: Is there a reason you need a 50 lb bag?
Me: is there a reason you woke up, looked in the mirror and said “I am ready to leave the house now,” because, to be honest, I am not sure you were done with You are going to have their teeth pulled?
Me: As far as you know. Good luck getting that vision out of your PETA head.
I went through and paid for the food, a new puzzle bowl so Jack stops swallowing air and peeling the paint in our apartment. When I walked out to my car, the stalker was looking to see what I was driving. I fear the dog police may be paying me a visit.
We have two dogs. One was raised in prison, primarily. Not since he was a puppy, but he was a stray; a runaway maybe from a bad life. He is a Ridge Dog, a temporary “inmate” at Coyote Ridge prison, trained by the inmates there. It is a great program. I imagine, prior to his incarceration, he ate whatever he could to stay alive. Like most strays, he adapted to whatever food he found. His digestive tract is pretty solid. He gets Pedigree dog food. It comes in a 50lb. and it’s cheap. He is healthy, happy, has regular bowel movements with it; all in all, it is a win-win for everyone.
Jack, on the other hand, like most animals with a brachiocephalic face, farts and burps and has the digestive system of an infant. I think English Bulldogs are born with IBS. He is on a grain free, poultry free food. I recently spent $300 when he had the runs to come out of the vet with a diagnosis of “he has the runs.” No Giardia, or any other type of parasite. Frankly, I pull out pieces of plastic from his butt all the time. Sometimes plastic, sometimes fabric of some sort. We once pulled out a dollar bill. I am wondering if any Benjamin’s are in there? I am getting side tracked. Point is, his food is a tad spendy and it does not come in a 50 lb. bag. If it did, I would be broke.
I had a general idea where Jack’s food was. I got the biggest bag my debit card would allow. Then, I was looking for the bag of Pedigree. The unfortunate event was walking too far, and making eye contact with a sales/stock person wearing a Petco bib. I quick turned around and headed back the way I came since she was in the cat food aisle. I found the Pedigree…lifted the bag up and put it in the cart.
**BAM**
There she was. Staring at me.
Stalker (or stocker, you pick) : I noticed you were getting two different foods. Can I ask why?
Me: no
Stalker: I can recommend a different food than the Pedigree brand. That has a lot of fillers in it.
Me: Why do you carry it then?
Stalker:
Me: I am good, thank you.
Stalker: Is there a reason you need a 50 lb bag?
Me: is there a reason you woke up, looked in the mirror and said “I am ready to leave the house now,” because, to be honest, I am not sure you were done with
Me: As far as you know. Good luck getting that vision out of your PETA head.
I went through and paid for the food, a new puzzle bowl so Jack stops swallowing air and peeling the paint in our apartment. When I walked out to my car, the stalker was looking to see what I was driving. I fear the dog police may be paying me a visit.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Four Years...
It's been for years since I posted on this thing. Nothing has pissed me off in almost 48 months? How can that be? Maybe I have matured out of the need to rant about everything that pisses me off...
Nope.
A lot has happened over the last 4 years. Some I can talk about, some I can't because those things require a security clearance and the badge making machine is broken. So I cannot simply assume you have clearance to get inside my head. In fact, even if you had clearance I would strongly suggest you steer clear of my head. There is no rating system AND I cannot be held responsible for what you cannot un-see.
I can say that 7 months ago our family moved into a 1500 sq. ft. apartment waiting to build a home. That in itself is pretty comical. The older I get the more I am now able to lay on my horn when someone has parked in my assigned parking spot. Especially since the Tri-Cities had a record winter in regards to snow fall. I don't care if curtains get pulled aside and people stare at me wondering why I am honking my horn. I COULD NOT care any less. So it blares. It blares so the ass-hat that I know is nearby comes out and I can just stare with my YOUREFUCKINGSTUPID eyes; causing him to feel awkward and pseudo-apologetic as he scampers to his car. I pray he slips a bit and falls in the snow, sans North Face parka.
Even better than him falling is the sign of his car not starting and the steering wheel facing the blows of frustration. I know it ran at one point because he got it to park in my spot. Now, at the ripe old age of 43, I have no problem letting the truck idle in the parking lot, lights on, causing Murphy's Law to kick in. More blunt force to the steering wheel, out into a blizzard to pop the hood. Two reasons I don't get out to offer assistance. One, no idea what's wrong and my truck cab is warm, but more importantly, two, your punishment is being reminded of my inconvenience while I am warm and you are not. I know this raises the frustration level for him which secretly motivates me to repeat said behavior.
I wish the parking was the only issue in communal living. Neighbors are awesome! It's like this apartment complex is a test tube for Darwin's Army. We are on the 1st floor. The River Dance team holds practices on my ceiling. When it is nice outside, the family stays inside and plays duck, duck, goose and the whole floor plan is fair game. I asked one day, as the mother was sitting outside sucking on a cig like her life actually depended upon its completion, if she ever takes her kids outside to run around.
"I don't know where any parks are."
You don't need a park lady. You just need some open road, open space, a rope, your hazard lights feverishly blinking away and an idling speed; something other than what you are doing now. Forget the fact there is an actual park with play equipment IN THE COMPLEX! I get the sense, when the kids come out on the balcony peering across the vast open area that is West Richland (and interrupt Mom's 11th smoke break before noon), that they are seeing other people for the first time. I heard one of them ask if they could playing with someone's shadow.
I am not being critical of this Mom's parenting skills. I can only imagine how difficult it is to raise three small boys (ages young, kind of young and oldish), but even the harshest of criminals gets an hour of yard/activity time. She keeps a clean house though. I hear the vacuum at 11PM at night and the scampering of kids who apparently have a hard time sleeping with a Shark 2.0 sucking the dander out of my ceiling. The bedroom s the cleanest. I know this because it is right above mine.
I think, too, that someone up there is pissing BB-sized kidney stones because it sounds like 15 pounds of buckshot is being poured down the mainline every time they flush. I know what "Clickers" (Zombies) sound like and let me tell you.....it sounds like an army of those fuckers is hiding behind my wall. No wonder I feel sleep deprived. Let's just say I cannot wait to build....because at least then, I can decide who is jumping on my ceiling and I can legally deal with it, (with chloroform) rather than face the police asking me why I stuffed a rag in a strange kid's face.
Nope.
A lot has happened over the last 4 years. Some I can talk about, some I can't because those things require a security clearance and the badge making machine is broken. So I cannot simply assume you have clearance to get inside my head. In fact, even if you had clearance I would strongly suggest you steer clear of my head. There is no rating system AND I cannot be held responsible for what you cannot un-see.
I can say that 7 months ago our family moved into a 1500 sq. ft. apartment waiting to build a home. That in itself is pretty comical. The older I get the more I am now able to lay on my horn when someone has parked in my assigned parking spot. Especially since the Tri-Cities had a record winter in regards to snow fall. I don't care if curtains get pulled aside and people stare at me wondering why I am honking my horn. I COULD NOT care any less. So it blares. It blares so the ass-hat that I know is nearby comes out and I can just stare with my YOUREFUCKINGSTUPID eyes; causing him to feel awkward and pseudo-apologetic as he scampers to his car. I pray he slips a bit and falls in the snow, sans North Face parka.
Even better than him falling is the sign of his car not starting and the steering wheel facing the blows of frustration. I know it ran at one point because he got it to park in my spot. Now, at the ripe old age of 43, I have no problem letting the truck idle in the parking lot, lights on, causing Murphy's Law to kick in. More blunt force to the steering wheel, out into a blizzard to pop the hood. Two reasons I don't get out to offer assistance. One, no idea what's wrong and my truck cab is warm, but more importantly, two, your punishment is being reminded of my inconvenience while I am warm and you are not. I know this raises the frustration level for him which secretly motivates me to repeat said behavior.
I wish the parking was the only issue in communal living. Neighbors are awesome! It's like this apartment complex is a test tube for Darwin's Army. We are on the 1st floor. The River Dance team holds practices on my ceiling. When it is nice outside, the family stays inside and plays duck, duck, goose and the whole floor plan is fair game. I asked one day, as the mother was sitting outside sucking on a cig like her life actually depended upon its completion, if she ever takes her kids outside to run around.
"I don't know where any parks are."
You don't need a park lady. You just need some open road, open space, a rope, your hazard lights feverishly blinking away and an idling speed; something other than what you are doing now. Forget the fact there is an actual park with play equipment IN THE COMPLEX! I get the sense, when the kids come out on the balcony peering across the vast open area that is West Richland (and interrupt Mom's 11th smoke break before noon), that they are seeing other people for the first time. I heard one of them ask if they could playing with someone's shadow.
I am not being critical of this Mom's parenting skills. I can only imagine how difficult it is to raise three small boys (ages young, kind of young and oldish), but even the harshest of criminals gets an hour of yard/activity time. She keeps a clean house though. I hear the vacuum at 11PM at night and the scampering of kids who apparently have a hard time sleeping with a Shark 2.0 sucking the dander out of my ceiling. The bedroom s the cleanest. I know this because it is right above mine.
I think, too, that someone up there is pissing BB-sized kidney stones because it sounds like 15 pounds of buckshot is being poured down the mainline every time they flush. I know what "Clickers" (Zombies) sound like and let me tell you.....it sounds like an army of those fuckers is hiding behind my wall. No wonder I feel sleep deprived. Let's just say I cannot wait to build....because at least then, I can decide who is jumping on my ceiling and I can legally deal with it, (with chloroform) rather than face the police asking me why I stuffed a rag in a strange kid's face.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Do You Have a Sec?
Dear You,
Sure I have time. I have time for lots of things. Reading, learning, evolving, despising....take your pick. To answer your question, I DO have a sec, but I don't really want to give it to you. I apologize in advance for not caring, but as you walked by me several times this morning, attempting to work up the courage to start this story, I could sense that if you did get the gall to tell me your story, even you would be bored senseless. Up until this point, I appreciate your ability to withhold your monotonous diatribe about Lord knows what through the lisp of broken teeth. But now you have crossed the line. You asked me how I was doing, and by doing so you have given me the option of being honest. A large list of replies has come to mind, all of which would normally get a fist to my face by just about anyone else but you.
Am I interested in your story? To put it bluntly, no. If that is hard to understand, let me ask you this. Are you interested in animal husbandry, the mating habits of the aardvark, or dating the Olsen twins? If you answered yes to any of those, I feel for you on so many levels, I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am. As excited as you are to have another human being listen to you discuss your wireless bandwidth, I am as excited to listen to it as I am to be cathed by Triple H. I want to feign interest in your life as bad as Angelina Jolie wants breast cancer. Unfortunately, I cannot remove you prophylactically without going to jail but that doesn't make you any less of a tumor in my life. You are like a scab that won't heal or a zit on my forehead at age 40. I don't know why you are here right now. It surely is not because I appear to care. If there was ever a time for an act of God, now would be it.
So as you take a breath before you start you next line of bullshit, let me just stop you and say, fuck off. I do not believe you are getting paid to discuss Dungeons and Dragons with me, there will be no D&D focus group because 10-year olds aren't allowed in the plant. I don't want to hear about how you are the first person in the Western United States to get 10GB/sec download speed wifi on your iPhone 10. That phone doesn't exist and I know for a fact your trailer's metal skirting would interfere with the reception on something as massive as 10 gigs. As much as I can appreciate you finally wanting to get your driver's license so you can save money by not taking public transportation, stop waiting for me to verbalize my accolades to you for said achievement. You will be waiting a long time before I say "nice job for seeking personal growth." No offense, but people don't start driving at your age, they retire. I suppose it is easier to pack your Legos in the trunk of your own car for both storage and transport than it is in an ABC Taxi Service vehicle. I am hesitant, however, to drive on the same roads as you since driving is mostly common sense and you demonstrate your grasp of common sense as well as Lindsay Lohan demonstrates sobriety. Pardon me if I question your desire to operate a big piece of metal. The cabbie might not be from around here, may not have a GED equivalent, and might even have a felony or two on his record, but at least he has experience. Some things are best being left for other people to do.
In conclusion, I propose we play a game. Imagine I just said that like the dude from Saw because the outcome, at least in my mind, is very similar. Let's pretend I am not here. Since you are into fantasy shit, assume I have my invisibility cloak on and I have level 35 mage skills. Pretend I can vaporize you speaking elven. Whatever it is that makes you avoid me like you avoid personal hygiene....do THAT. I will be happier and that is the important part in this scenario. I hate to pull rank on you....but level 35 mages trump level 8 elves every day of the week and twice on Sunday. It's been 30 years since I played Dungeons and Dragons, but even I know that.
Sincerely,
Me
Sure I have time. I have time for lots of things. Reading, learning, evolving, despising....take your pick. To answer your question, I DO have a sec, but I don't really want to give it to you. I apologize in advance for not caring, but as you walked by me several times this morning, attempting to work up the courage to start this story, I could sense that if you did get the gall to tell me your story, even you would be bored senseless. Up until this point, I appreciate your ability to withhold your monotonous diatribe about Lord knows what through the lisp of broken teeth. But now you have crossed the line. You asked me how I was doing, and by doing so you have given me the option of being honest. A large list of replies has come to mind, all of which would normally get a fist to my face by just about anyone else but you.
Am I interested in your story? To put it bluntly, no. If that is hard to understand, let me ask you this. Are you interested in animal husbandry, the mating habits of the aardvark, or dating the Olsen twins? If you answered yes to any of those, I feel for you on so many levels, I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am. As excited as you are to have another human being listen to you discuss your wireless bandwidth, I am as excited to listen to it as I am to be cathed by Triple H. I want to feign interest in your life as bad as Angelina Jolie wants breast cancer. Unfortunately, I cannot remove you prophylactically without going to jail but that doesn't make you any less of a tumor in my life. You are like a scab that won't heal or a zit on my forehead at age 40. I don't know why you are here right now. It surely is not because I appear to care. If there was ever a time for an act of God, now would be it.
So as you take a breath before you start you next line of bullshit, let me just stop you and say, fuck off. I do not believe you are getting paid to discuss Dungeons and Dragons with me, there will be no D&D focus group because 10-year olds aren't allowed in the plant. I don't want to hear about how you are the first person in the Western United States to get 10GB/sec download speed wifi on your iPhone 10. That phone doesn't exist and I know for a fact your trailer's metal skirting would interfere with the reception on something as massive as 10 gigs. As much as I can appreciate you finally wanting to get your driver's license so you can save money by not taking public transportation, stop waiting for me to verbalize my accolades to you for said achievement. You will be waiting a long time before I say "nice job for seeking personal growth." No offense, but people don't start driving at your age, they retire. I suppose it is easier to pack your Legos in the trunk of your own car for both storage and transport than it is in an ABC Taxi Service vehicle. I am hesitant, however, to drive on the same roads as you since driving is mostly common sense and you demonstrate your grasp of common sense as well as Lindsay Lohan demonstrates sobriety. Pardon me if I question your desire to operate a big piece of metal. The cabbie might not be from around here, may not have a GED equivalent, and might even have a felony or two on his record, but at least he has experience. Some things are best being left for other people to do.
In conclusion, I propose we play a game. Imagine I just said that like the dude from Saw because the outcome, at least in my mind, is very similar. Let's pretend I am not here. Since you are into fantasy shit, assume I have my invisibility cloak on and I have level 35 mage skills. Pretend I can vaporize you speaking elven. Whatever it is that makes you avoid me like you avoid personal hygiene....do THAT. I will be happier and that is the important part in this scenario. I hate to pull rank on you....but level 35 mages trump level 8 elves every day of the week and twice on Sunday. It's been 30 years since I played Dungeons and Dragons, but even I know that.
Sincerely,
Me
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