WARNING! If you're at work, make sure no one is behind you when you open the link!
Let this be reason 1,453 why NOT to wear a strapless dress on your wedding day unless you have the tits to hold it up, or a really good seamstress.
Pic courtesy of Zelda.
1.31.2006
1.30.2006
Tales from the Crypt
R related this tale to me on his way home from work this morning, opening with "We had the weirdest thing happen last night!":
He was working the med-surg floors when they called a "code blue" over the PA. He and several nurses and a doctor went running and started trying to resucitate a man who was in cardiac and respiratory arrest - no pulse, no breathing... nothing. They worked on him for a good 20 minutes but to no avail. The doctor pronounced him dead.
They all consoled each other and cleaned up their areas, then went back to their rotations.
Then R heard a "code blue" announced AGAIN in the same area, so they all went running AGAIN.
Lo and behold... a patient technician who had helped work on the guy the first time walked back by the room and saw the dead guy moving around on his bed AFTER he had already been down for 20 minutes!
The guy is now in critial condition in the ICU, on a ventilator.
R is still freaked out about it.
He was working the med-surg floors when they called a "code blue" over the PA. He and several nurses and a doctor went running and started trying to resucitate a man who was in cardiac and respiratory arrest - no pulse, no breathing... nothing. They worked on him for a good 20 minutes but to no avail. The doctor pronounced him dead.
They all consoled each other and cleaned up their areas, then went back to their rotations.
Then R heard a "code blue" announced AGAIN in the same area, so they all went running AGAIN.
Lo and behold... a patient technician who had helped work on the guy the first time walked back by the room and saw the dead guy moving around on his bed AFTER he had already been down for 20 minutes!
The guy is now in critial condition in the ICU, on a ventilator.
R is still freaked out about it.
1.26.2006
Dysfunctional Family Robinson
What else are you supposed to do when your heartless harpy wife dumps you for your younger brother?
Brilliant!
Happy HNT everyone!
What - you were expecting a picture? Well, I would be happy to oblige! I have one slight problem tho. I no longer have my favorite mode of last minute photography, i.e., my cell phone because...
I WASHED MY CELL PHONE IN HOT SOAPY WATER FOR HALF AN HOUR! (along with my jeans in which they were pocketed and a couple pairs of R's scrubs).
AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH
I have been so frustrated without it! And the worst part is that IT"S ALL MY FAULT!
Update:
I got a new phone after our interminably long quarterly meeting.
Ooooooooooooo SHINEY!!
What - you were expecting a picture? Well, I would be happy to oblige! I have one slight problem tho. I no longer have my favorite mode of last minute photography, i.e., my cell phone because...
I WASHED MY CELL PHONE IN HOT SOAPY WATER FOR HALF AN HOUR! (along with my jeans in which they were pocketed and a couple pairs of R's scrubs).
AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH
I have been so frustrated without it! And the worst part is that IT"S ALL MY FAULT!
Update:
I got a new phone after our interminably long quarterly meeting.
Ooooooooooooo SHINEY!!
1.20.2006
The Doors, Part One
Sorry for the lack of posts - work has been extremely busy, but my boss is out today so I'm going to take some time and slack off and write in my blog. Then I'm going to take a long lunch and spend some time with my man, THEN I'll actually apply myself to the reformatting of a very ugly Installation and Operations Manual.
So, fueled on strong coffee and the breakfast of champions - frosted cherry poptarts, of course - I'm going to share the bizarre story of injuries caused by doors that have happened between my sister and I, you lucky bitches.
*****************************************
Cast of Characters:
Me: bratty 2 y/o
Sister: persnickety 6 y/o
Mom: stay-at-home mom
Dad: MSgt in the Army
Year: 1974
Place: Base housing, Ft Bragg, NC, a few blocks up from where Green Beret Jeffrey McDonald savagely murdered his family, smeared blood all over the walls and blamed a cult about a year previous to the incident about to be relayed. The book was called Fatal Vision and was a best seller.
Our story begins on a week day much like any other week day. My sister was in 1st grade, my dad was at work, and I was at home with my mother. Being 2, I idolized my sister and all her stuff, so while she was in school every day, I would venture into her room and pull out all her toys and play with them. She didn't like this very much because she didn't like me messing with her stuff and to tell the truth, she just really didn't like me at this point in our lives, period. Upon her return home every day, she would (understandably) blow a gasket when she saw I had trashed her room.
On this particular day, she had returned home to find I had trashed her room AGAIN. I was following her around like a puppy and she got fed up and shoved me out the door and slammed it in my face. Well, I didn't WANT to be shoved out of her room and have the door rudely slammed in my face, so I stuck my wee little hand between the jam and the oncoming heavy wood door.
Not so bright, in hind sight. Have I mentioned that children don't reach the age of reason until 6? And I was 1/3 of that age? Yeah. You know what's coming.
Within seconds my mom heard screaming. She ran upstairs to find both my sister and I screaming - me on one side of the door, and my sister on the other and blood everywhere.
You see, the slamming door severed the pinky finger on my left hand between the first joint and the base of my fingernail. I was on one side of the door trying to get the rest of my hand out of the jam and my sister was on the other side with my bloody finger.
Say it with me... eeeeewwww.
My mom yanked open the door to assess the damage. My finger was still attached, but it was dangling off on the side like a flower with a snapped stem, only attached by a piece of skin. She brought me into the bathroom and wrapped a cold wet washcloth around it, tried to reach my father but couldn't, so she called our neighbor, who rushed the three of us, all crying hysterically and covered in blood, to the emergency room at Womack Army Hospital.
Meanwhile, my dad was already on his way home for the day - hence the reason why my mom couldn't reach him. He gets home to find the front door open, blood tracked down the foyer, up the stairs, all in the hall, in my sister's room, pooled in the bathroom sink and all three of us missing. Not a good moment for my father. Since it was 1974, there were no cell phones, so he had no idea where we were or what had happened.
Luckily, my father is also a very rational and logical person, so he ran back out to his car and jumped in and hauled ass to the emergency room, figuring he would check there first and then deal with the next step if we were still nowhere to be found.
~~~Sidenote: Here's an interesting anecdote that my dad just revealed to my sister and I when they were visiting last month over Christmas that attests to the camaraderie and brotherhood of our nation's military: Upon our arrival at the ER, we were recognized by a friend of our dad - they had served in Vietnam together and become close friends. Since he didn't see my dad with us, he knew what kind of scene my dad was going to find when he got home. This friend and fellow soldier sent an escort of MPs to our house to find my dad and escort him to the ER, and also to tell him where we were and that we were ok so my dad wouldn't worry. I think that is the most considerate action I have ever heard in my life and if I knew where this guy was, I would find him and kiss him and thank him for being such a fantastic person. ~~~
My dad arrived at the ER and found my poor, scared 6 y/o sister curled up in a ball in the waiting room, all by herself, still covered in my blood, thinking she killed me. The idiots in the ER wouldn't let her back in the trauma bay with me and my mom.
He scooped her up and took her back to the trauma room and found my mom and me, with my finger stitched and bandaged with a cast that was so heavy that my finger was bending backwards because it couldn't support the weight.
We all went home and lived injury free happily ever after.
Well, until 11 years later...
So, fueled on strong coffee and the breakfast of champions - frosted cherry poptarts, of course - I'm going to share the bizarre story of injuries caused by doors that have happened between my sister and I, you lucky bitches.
*****************************************
Cast of Characters:
Me: bratty 2 y/o
Sister: persnickety 6 y/o
Mom: stay-at-home mom
Dad: MSgt in the Army
Year: 1974
Place: Base housing, Ft Bragg, NC, a few blocks up from where Green Beret Jeffrey McDonald savagely murdered his family, smeared blood all over the walls and blamed a cult about a year previous to the incident about to be relayed. The book was called Fatal Vision and was a best seller.
Our story begins on a week day much like any other week day. My sister was in 1st grade, my dad was at work, and I was at home with my mother. Being 2, I idolized my sister and all her stuff, so while she was in school every day, I would venture into her room and pull out all her toys and play with them. She didn't like this very much because she didn't like me messing with her stuff and to tell the truth, she just really didn't like me at this point in our lives, period. Upon her return home every day, she would (understandably) blow a gasket when she saw I had trashed her room.
On this particular day, she had returned home to find I had trashed her room AGAIN. I was following her around like a puppy and she got fed up and shoved me out the door and slammed it in my face. Well, I didn't WANT to be shoved out of her room and have the door rudely slammed in my face, so I stuck my wee little hand between the jam and the oncoming heavy wood door.
Not so bright, in hind sight. Have I mentioned that children don't reach the age of reason until 6? And I was 1/3 of that age? Yeah. You know what's coming.
Within seconds my mom heard screaming. She ran upstairs to find both my sister and I screaming - me on one side of the door, and my sister on the other and blood everywhere.
You see, the slamming door severed the pinky finger on my left hand between the first joint and the base of my fingernail. I was on one side of the door trying to get the rest of my hand out of the jam and my sister was on the other side with my bloody finger.
Say it with me... eeeeewwww.
My mom yanked open the door to assess the damage. My finger was still attached, but it was dangling off on the side like a flower with a snapped stem, only attached by a piece of skin. She brought me into the bathroom and wrapped a cold wet washcloth around it, tried to reach my father but couldn't, so she called our neighbor, who rushed the three of us, all crying hysterically and covered in blood, to the emergency room at Womack Army Hospital.
Meanwhile, my dad was already on his way home for the day - hence the reason why my mom couldn't reach him. He gets home to find the front door open, blood tracked down the foyer, up the stairs, all in the hall, in my sister's room, pooled in the bathroom sink and all three of us missing. Not a good moment for my father. Since it was 1974, there were no cell phones, so he had no idea where we were or what had happened.
Luckily, my father is also a very rational and logical person, so he ran back out to his car and jumped in and hauled ass to the emergency room, figuring he would check there first and then deal with the next step if we were still nowhere to be found.
~~~Sidenote: Here's an interesting anecdote that my dad just revealed to my sister and I when they were visiting last month over Christmas that attests to the camaraderie and brotherhood of our nation's military: Upon our arrival at the ER, we were recognized by a friend of our dad - they had served in Vietnam together and become close friends. Since he didn't see my dad with us, he knew what kind of scene my dad was going to find when he got home. This friend and fellow soldier sent an escort of MPs to our house to find my dad and escort him to the ER, and also to tell him where we were and that we were ok so my dad wouldn't worry. I think that is the most considerate action I have ever heard in my life and if I knew where this guy was, I would find him and kiss him and thank him for being such a fantastic person. ~~~
My dad arrived at the ER and found my poor, scared 6 y/o sister curled up in a ball in the waiting room, all by herself, still covered in my blood, thinking she killed me. The idiots in the ER wouldn't let her back in the trauma bay with me and my mom.
He scooped her up and took her back to the trauma room and found my mom and me, with my finger stitched and bandaged with a cast that was so heavy that my finger was bending backwards because it couldn't support the weight.
We all went home and lived injury free happily ever after.
Well, until 11 years later...
1.10.2006
5 Neurotic Habits
This is a stolen meme - I'm tired of memes, but I found this one interesting so here goes:
1. I minored in Deaf Education in college (learnedAmerican Sign Language). Ever since then, when I have an imaginary conversation going on in my head, I sometimes spell it with my fingers, too.
2. When I walk into someone's house, I always imagine how I would decorate it, because I think most people's decorating skills suck ass - except mine, of course.
3. When I get interested in something, I dive into it, but to an extreme. I learn everything I can and even consider changing my career, but chicken out and stay with what's safe and stable. Possible careers so far: nurse, deaf education teacher, casino dealer, chinese linguist, nuclear engineer, mid-wife, candle maker, coffee shop owner, gift basket maker, professional belly dancer, pastry chef.
4. When I walk by a mirror, I ALWAYS check my reflection because I am vain.
5. I wake up several times during the night and look at the clock just to see how much more time I have left before I have to get up.
And here are three bonus quirks, because I'm on a roll:
6. When I'm reading a novel for pleasure, if I skim over a part to see what happens later in the story-line, I feel like I MUST go back and read the part I skimmed over. If I don't, I feel guilty. I have no idea why.
7. I rub my feet together when I'm turned on, and also when I am in a state of post-coital bliss.
8. I can't fall asleep if my feet are cold.
1. I minored in Deaf Education in college (learnedAmerican Sign Language). Ever since then, when I have an imaginary conversation going on in my head, I sometimes spell it with my fingers, too.
2. When I walk into someone's house, I always imagine how I would decorate it, because I think most people's decorating skills suck ass - except mine, of course.
3. When I get interested in something, I dive into it, but to an extreme. I learn everything I can and even consider changing my career, but chicken out and stay with what's safe and stable. Possible careers so far: nurse, deaf education teacher, casino dealer, chinese linguist, nuclear engineer, mid-wife, candle maker, coffee shop owner, gift basket maker, professional belly dancer, pastry chef.
4. When I walk by a mirror, I ALWAYS check my reflection because I am vain.
5. I wake up several times during the night and look at the clock just to see how much more time I have left before I have to get up.
And here are three bonus quirks, because I'm on a roll:
6. When I'm reading a novel for pleasure, if I skim over a part to see what happens later in the story-line, I feel like I MUST go back and read the part I skimmed over. If I don't, I feel guilty. I have no idea why.
7. I rub my feet together when I'm turned on, and also when I am in a state of post-coital bliss.
8. I can't fall asleep if my feet are cold.
10 for Tuesday
10 places I'd like to visit before I die (in no particular order):
1. Mexico
2. Marrakech
3. Giza
4. French Riviera
5. Venice
6. Rome
7. London
8.Taj Mahal
9. Beijing
10. Athens
1.09.2006
Macabre Monday
R called me this morning on his way home from work to inform me that traffic is completely fucked up because I-95 Northbound is shut down because of a major accident, so approximately 1 million people are trying to find alternate routes to work, so all local roads were backed up, too.
Greeeeaaaaat.
I decided to stay home and wait it out, so I left 40 minutes later than I normally do. Miraculously, I didn't hit super-heavy traffic (it was slow, but moving), so I was able to get Lauren to school and Ashlyn to daycare with no major problems.
Then I tried to make my way to work. What normally takes me 7 minutes took me 35 minutes this morning, and on the way there, I saw yet another fire truck going to the scene of the accident - which happened FOUR HOURS BEFORE I LEFT THE HOUSE.
I finally got to work and logged in to my desktop PC and brought up the news to see just what the hell happened.
This was no normal car accident.
It was a body.
Police don't yet know if it was a pedestrian trying to cross or if someone was pushed from a car or if it was a dead body dumped on the road, but the body was subsequently hit and torn to pieces by several vehicles - they can't even identify the sex yet because police cadets (poor kids!) are still gathering evidence (i.e., pieces).
Eww, eww, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww.
For the body's sake, I hope they were already dead.
Greeeeaaaaat.
I decided to stay home and wait it out, so I left 40 minutes later than I normally do. Miraculously, I didn't hit super-heavy traffic (it was slow, but moving), so I was able to get Lauren to school and Ashlyn to daycare with no major problems.
Then I tried to make my way to work. What normally takes me 7 minutes took me 35 minutes this morning, and on the way there, I saw yet another fire truck going to the scene of the accident - which happened FOUR HOURS BEFORE I LEFT THE HOUSE.
I finally got to work and logged in to my desktop PC and brought up the news to see just what the hell happened.
This was no normal car accident.
It was a body.
Police don't yet know if it was a pedestrian trying to cross or if someone was pushed from a car or if it was a dead body dumped on the road, but the body was subsequently hit and torn to pieces by several vehicles - they can't even identify the sex yet because police cadets (poor kids!) are still gathering evidence (i.e., pieces).
Eww, eww, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww.
For the body's sake, I hope they were already dead.
1.03.2006
Monday... er, I mean Tuesday Blahs
Hope everyone had a nice weekend. Mine was nice. Spent New Year's Eve at the hospital with R as planned and also had interesting political conversations with 2 Nigerian guys that are RTs in R's department. It's always interesting to see another person's point of view, especially when he is from a completely different culture.
*Sidenote: After I left, R's co-worker, Sam, advised R to marry me because I am "smart, pretty, and very nice." See Internet? I can charm the pants off of African and Middle-Eastern guys (figuratively speaking, of course), but relatively young, half-way decent looking American guys? Not so much. I think I come off as aloof or bimbo-esque when neither one is even remotely true. Hmmm.*
***************************
Anyone else feeling kinda blah now that the holiday craziness is over? The holdays are always so frenetic BUT they also come with alot of paid holidays off work, so I guess it's a trade off. Now it's back to our regularly scheduled program of after-school activities (gymnastics, soccer), Girl Scouts, and five day work weeks. Meh.
This week I get to deal with alot of boredom because we don't have the girls AND R has to work Wednesday and Thursday, so I will be spending my evenings alone and bored.
Or extrememly frustrated because my Druid cow (her name is Mamooree - heh) keeps getting killed on World of Warcraft because I am an RPG idiot.
But in either case... booooooo.
*****************************
So if anyone is online on Wednesday or Thursday evening, pop up and say hi. My Yahoo IM info is on the sidebar.
Hey, wait... it is no longer there, due to my design changes. My sidebar is not the same, and if you are viewing it in IE has dropped to the lower right corner of your screen. Argh. It displays fine in Mozilla Firefox, but it is screwed up in IE - anyone know how to fix that?
Focus! Focus! My Yahoo IM is maisa72.
**************************
Anyone else's toes in a constant state of perma-freeze in the winter? Is that just a chick thing? I mean, I'm wearing socks (today they are biege with blue and yellow stripes to match my yellow sweater - I'm sure you were just DYING to know that, too.)
***************************
Can this entry get any more pathetic and boring? I mean, I'm describing my SOCKS for chrissake.
Somebody please shoot me somewhere deadly, but doesn't show, like with a 22 caliber in the back of the head, so there are no messy exit wounds or gaping holes on my person and I can hide the wound with my hair.
Then you can perform miraculous CPR on Friday at 4:55 pm. That's 15 chest compressions and 2 breaths, repeat as needed until I am no longer blue - except my toes, as mentioned above. It's possible because I saw this on House, except in their version, there were hibernation blankets and transfusion machines and the person was only down for 60 seconds... but these are really just minor details. Trust me.
I'll be revived for the weekend and you'll be rich and famous for necromancy. Please note: I said necroMANCY, not necroPHILIA.
Can you do that for me?
Thanks.
*Sidenote: After I left, R's co-worker, Sam, advised R to marry me because I am "smart, pretty, and very nice." See Internet? I can charm the pants off of African and Middle-Eastern guys (figuratively speaking, of course), but relatively young, half-way decent looking American guys? Not so much. I think I come off as aloof or bimbo-esque when neither one is even remotely true. Hmmm.*
***************************
Anyone else feeling kinda blah now that the holiday craziness is over? The holdays are always so frenetic BUT they also come with alot of paid holidays off work, so I guess it's a trade off. Now it's back to our regularly scheduled program of after-school activities (gymnastics, soccer), Girl Scouts, and five day work weeks. Meh.
This week I get to deal with alot of boredom because we don't have the girls AND R has to work Wednesday and Thursday, so I will be spending my evenings alone and bored.
Or extrememly frustrated because my Druid cow (her name is Mamooree - heh) keeps getting killed on World of Warcraft because I am an RPG idiot.
But in either case... booooooo.
*****************************
So if anyone is online on Wednesday or Thursday evening, pop up and say hi. My Yahoo IM info is on the sidebar.
Hey, wait... it is no longer there, due to my design changes. My sidebar is not the same, and if you are viewing it in IE has dropped to the lower right corner of your screen. Argh. It displays fine in Mozilla Firefox, but it is screwed up in IE - anyone know how to fix that?
Focus! Focus! My Yahoo IM is maisa72.
**************************
Anyone else's toes in a constant state of perma-freeze in the winter? Is that just a chick thing? I mean, I'm wearing socks (today they are biege with blue and yellow stripes to match my yellow sweater - I'm sure you were just DYING to know that, too.)
***************************
Can this entry get any more pathetic and boring? I mean, I'm describing my SOCKS for chrissake.
Somebody please shoot me somewhere deadly, but doesn't show, like with a 22 caliber in the back of the head, so there are no messy exit wounds or gaping holes on my person and I can hide the wound with my hair.
Then you can perform miraculous CPR on Friday at 4:55 pm. That's 15 chest compressions and 2 breaths, repeat as needed until I am no longer blue - except my toes, as mentioned above. It's possible because I saw this on House, except in their version, there were hibernation blankets and transfusion machines and the person was only down for 60 seconds... but these are really just minor details. Trust me.
I'll be revived for the weekend and you'll be rich and famous for necromancy. Please note: I said necroMANCY, not necroPHILIA.
Can you do that for me?
Thanks.
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