I am a procrastinator. Indeed, i believe that much of my life decisions have been put off and made at the last minute where there are few options. That said, I am not doing too bad.
Anyway, I was invited to a babyshower for a friend/co-worker in North Carolina and I very much wanted to attend. Alas, it would have been do difficult to fly down etc., so I RSVPed ASAP with a "cannot attend".
Then I forgot all about it.
Until last night when I flipped the page in my day planner and saw that I had penciled in the baby shower. So, like any good friends, I immediately signed on to babies'r'us and target to see her gift registry. As one would figure, everything that was a reasonable gift to get for a causal friend or coworker had been bought. Instead, the gifts that were left fell into two categories- poor person and immediate family.
Poor person gifts were washcloths, bath towels, soap, butt cream. They are gifts that are under $9.99 or under. They can be bought alone, or grouped together to make a more substantial gift (perhaps in basket form). the problem with this category- there were only two gifts. Inadequate.
The immediate family gifts are outrageously expensive and are usual equipment that had many safety features. Immediate family buys them because they actually care if the thing/baby lives to carry on the family name. Highchairs, strollers, care seats, elaborate bath devices with flotations, straps and anti-drowning whistles.
Now, let me explain. If you are reading this, than you know that my mind works a little differently. This is not just a problem of expressing my baby-love in a monetary way- "congrats, I love your baby $50 worth!". No. It is the message that the gift sends. Casual friend = casual gift. If i decide to give her a baby seat it is unexpected and a little creepy- as if I am more invested in the friendship. The gift is never just a gift. Too intimate a gift is inappropriate.
So I did what anyone would do. I bought the cheapest expensive gift on the registry. And then. I bought a pack of bath towels for $5. This sends a great message. A message that I will not write in words but hope will be picked up none the less. It says "Congratuations, here is a really expensive gift, but do not worry! Don't freak out that the gift is a little elaborate for such a casual friendship, it is the gift I wanted to give! Look, the money is so immaterial to me that I am going to throw in one more little gift just to show you that it is not a big deal. Relax. Enjoy your new Graco Mosaic Stroller in Lemongrass. Mozaltov!!"
Phew. Problem solved.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
We are ODST
Every time Hulu plays the advertisement for Halo ODST (see it here) I not only kind of want to join the military, but I want to buy this game AND I want them to make this into some kind of movie that I get to watch. Everything about it is the best thing I have seen in weeks. I need more of it. I kind of have to go buy an Xbox now and play this game. Stupid advertisements working effectively.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Mind Freak
I just realized that none of the hospitals in which I have worked has had an OR #13. That is six. Six hospitals, that is, who choose to cower before the almighty, all powerful THIRTEEN. Hospitals filled with medical professionals, scientists, scholars- persons I would not necessarily think would believe in magic and twilight zones. No, I would expect a healthy assortment of zealot religious types mixed with the cynical and the rational.
Then I met him. A doctor of urology, 55 years old, Indian (from India). He shall henceforth be called Dr. He sat down next to me at the front desk and began to watch YouTube. He insisted that I cease answering phone calls from the Emergency Room and watch this amazing video he was sent. He smelled quite strongly of BO and clearly had an erection, so my first instinct was naturally to flee, but alas, he had me cornered. Quite literally, he was blocking me into a tiny corner and invading my personal space and air supply.
So I watched. And it was Criss Angel. That massive tool who spells his name phonetically and preforms hopelessly desperate illusions that 'no one can figure out'. Yeah, except any one who knows vaguely of video editing and is a cynic knows that these are elaborately staged events. Criss Angel is not, as Dr. insisted, magic.
He showed me a clip where Criss got run over by a steamroller. (WATCH- start at 5:58) He lays down on a sheet that has been set up before hand off camera where there are no witnesses and then lays down and gets run over, screaming the whole time, until he makes the steamroller back up and his bones are miraculously not crushed into powder.
Dr. was stunned. Stupefied. He was quite certain that Criss Angel was indeed magic. I tried to explain- "no, Dr., he cannot shift the cells of his body around so they lay flat" "nope, he is also not a super fast healer" "incorrect, he did not train at Hogwarts" All those attempts at rationalization fell on deaf ears.
So I tried a new approach, this time, I tried to explain how the stunts was actually performed. Criss lay on a blanket over a trap door/ramp that would lower his body into the ground as the roller ran him over, i even showed him how the blanket was wrinkled in a very obvious trap-door shaped pattern.
Not only did he not believe me, but more followers (all from Asia in some way) came to the computer to see this amazing feat, this present day super hero- not one of them finding it odd that if a man did possess these powers he would, indeed be captured and experimented on by the governments of many powerful countries.
Whatever.
There was nothing else I could say, I was outnumber (and we all know that a wrong answer shouted out by a lot of Filipinos makes it a right answer...) I also realized that the more i talked, the more disgusting BO air I had to breathe, so i squeezed my way out from the corner and tried desperately to talk myself out of the idea that his stench can cause cancer.
Then I met him. A doctor of urology, 55 years old, Indian (from India). He shall henceforth be called Dr. He sat down next to me at the front desk and began to watch YouTube. He insisted that I cease answering phone calls from the Emergency Room and watch this amazing video he was sent. He smelled quite strongly of BO and clearly had an erection, so my first instinct was naturally to flee, but alas, he had me cornered. Quite literally, he was blocking me into a tiny corner and invading my personal space and air supply.
So I watched. And it was Criss Angel. That massive tool who spells his name phonetically and preforms hopelessly desperate illusions that 'no one can figure out'. Yeah, except any one who knows vaguely of video editing and is a cynic knows that these are elaborately staged events. Criss Angel is not, as Dr. insisted, magic.
He showed me a clip where Criss got run over by a steamroller. (WATCH- start at 5:58) He lays down on a sheet that has been set up before hand off camera where there are no witnesses and then lays down and gets run over, screaming the whole time, until he makes the steamroller back up and his bones are miraculously not crushed into powder.
Dr. was stunned. Stupefied. He was quite certain that Criss Angel was indeed magic. I tried to explain- "no, Dr., he cannot shift the cells of his body around so they lay flat" "nope, he is also not a super fast healer" "incorrect, he did not train at Hogwarts" All those attempts at rationalization fell on deaf ears.
So I tried a new approach, this time, I tried to explain how the stunts was actually performed. Criss lay on a blanket over a trap door/ramp that would lower his body into the ground as the roller ran him over, i even showed him how the blanket was wrinkled in a very obvious trap-door shaped pattern.
Not only did he not believe me, but more followers (all from Asia in some way) came to the computer to see this amazing feat, this present day super hero- not one of them finding it odd that if a man did possess these powers he would, indeed be captured and experimented on by the governments of many powerful countries.
Whatever.
There was nothing else I could say, I was outnumber (and we all know that a wrong answer shouted out by a lot of Filipinos makes it a right answer...) I also realized that the more i talked, the more disgusting BO air I had to breathe, so i squeezed my way out from the corner and tried desperately to talk myself out of the idea that his stench can cause cancer.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Dear Dad
Dear Dad-
I know that you are kind of an insane person. Indeed, you have a twisty-handle bar mustache, a severe case of OCD coupled with a sick desire to hoard random objects in large, spooky trailers in the back yard.
You have an odd sense of humor- a mix of wit, baseness and loudness that can be hilarious or soul-damaging. Like calling the place where your son meets men "McFisty's" or buying me an action figure called "The Crazy Cat Lady" complete with a list of criteria for being a cat lady (with the ones I had accomplished checked off- like 1)never having a boyfriend 2)being covered in cat hair 3)living alone).
Do not get me wrong, dad, you are fantastic. You are, for the most part loving and creative. Up until now, you had used your powerful crazy for good (or against my brother-which is similar to good). I was alarmed, then, when you turned against me- your youngest child, your baby girl.
I know that I often ask you for things. Thanks to your psychological illness, requests for objects like a crossbow, a gas-mask, an ocsillascope were all met with an enthusiastic 'YES". So when I asked you politely to send me a few sets of scrubs, I was unprepared for your reaction.
Aside from repeatedly saying that I needed a much bigger size, you were helpful. Your request to get my an XXXL were met with mild hostility and you still assured me that you would procure my garments and ship them to me free of charge. You even called me to make sure they had arrived and asked me to search the contents of the package for the note you wrote.
How was I to know you were so cruel?
I never found the note, dad. Nope, I looked through the clothes and nothing fell out. So, off to work I went.
I changed into my nwe green scrubs (which fit just fine) and walked into the lounge to put away my lunch. I had polite conversation with coworkers and then proceeded into the OR suite to get my assignment. I talked to people at the front desk, wandered casually back to my room and was introduced to the surgeons as the new nurse. Everyone was very polite to me, but i noticed they did not make eye contact. No dad, instead they all stared at my crotch. I didn't really know what they were doing, no one said anything, but their eyes darted around to my lady business.
I pretended not to notice, but I had only one thought in my head. You. Sabatoged. My. Pants. Because I did not want to wear a circus tent in pant form, you cunningly decided to sabatoge my pants in an embarassing and evil way. I walked into the sub-sterile room where no one could see and my felt down to my nethers. And i ripped of the tape. the tape where you wrote a single word.
TOE
I assume you meant Camel Toe, like the one I would have if my pants were so tight that the seam of tyhem seperated my labia. Yeah, great thoughts dad. I thought hrrmmm...i could explain this, but then, I am sure many would wonder why my father would casually reference my vagina like that...maybe they would assume that I had been diddled? Either that or I would explain that you were an insane pseudoasshole with a warped sense of humor, but I did not have the time to take strangers down that dark road.
I even thought briefly of falling back on my old "my Boyfriend put this here" and within seconds had thought of a fake story about how he had come shopping with me and thought that the pants gave me camel toe, but then that would also make him an asshole AND the scrubs were clearly marked as coming from a Hospital and not a store, so I was screwed on that excuse.
Instead, I did something I rarely do. Nothing. I did not lie or over explain. I just took the tape, balled it and threw it away. I briefly did the same thing with my self-respect.
So thanks for the scrubs dad. And thanks for putting that tape on the crotch of every single pair of pants you gave me.
I know that you are kind of an insane person. Indeed, you have a twisty-handle bar mustache, a severe case of OCD coupled with a sick desire to hoard random objects in large, spooky trailers in the back yard.
You have an odd sense of humor- a mix of wit, baseness and loudness that can be hilarious or soul-damaging. Like calling the place where your son meets men "McFisty's" or buying me an action figure called "The Crazy Cat Lady" complete with a list of criteria for being a cat lady (with the ones I had accomplished checked off- like 1)never having a boyfriend 2)being covered in cat hair 3)living alone).
Do not get me wrong, dad, you are fantastic. You are, for the most part loving and creative. Up until now, you had used your powerful crazy for good (or against my brother-which is similar to good). I was alarmed, then, when you turned against me- your youngest child, your baby girl.
I know that I often ask you for things. Thanks to your psychological illness, requests for objects like a crossbow, a gas-mask, an ocsillascope were all met with an enthusiastic 'YES". So when I asked you politely to send me a few sets of scrubs, I was unprepared for your reaction.
Aside from repeatedly saying that I needed a much bigger size, you were helpful. Your request to get my an XXXL were met with mild hostility and you still assured me that you would procure my garments and ship them to me free of charge. You even called me to make sure they had arrived and asked me to search the contents of the package for the note you wrote.
How was I to know you were so cruel?
I never found the note, dad. Nope, I looked through the clothes and nothing fell out. So, off to work I went.
I changed into my nwe green scrubs (which fit just fine) and walked into the lounge to put away my lunch. I had polite conversation with coworkers and then proceeded into the OR suite to get my assignment. I talked to people at the front desk, wandered casually back to my room and was introduced to the surgeons as the new nurse. Everyone was very polite to me, but i noticed they did not make eye contact. No dad, instead they all stared at my crotch. I didn't really know what they were doing, no one said anything, but their eyes darted around to my lady business.
I pretended not to notice, but I had only one thought in my head. You. Sabatoged. My. Pants. Because I did not want to wear a circus tent in pant form, you cunningly decided to sabatoge my pants in an embarassing and evil way. I walked into the sub-sterile room where no one could see and my felt down to my nethers. And i ripped of the tape. the tape where you wrote a single word.
TOE
I assume you meant Camel Toe, like the one I would have if my pants were so tight that the seam of tyhem seperated my labia. Yeah, great thoughts dad. I thought hrrmmm...i could explain this, but then, I am sure many would wonder why my father would casually reference my vagina like that...maybe they would assume that I had been diddled? Either that or I would explain that you were an insane pseudoasshole with a warped sense of humor, but I did not have the time to take strangers down that dark road.
I even thought briefly of falling back on my old "my Boyfriend put this here" and within seconds had thought of a fake story about how he had come shopping with me and thought that the pants gave me camel toe, but then that would also make him an asshole AND the scrubs were clearly marked as coming from a Hospital and not a store, so I was screwed on that excuse.
Instead, I did something I rarely do. Nothing. I did not lie or over explain. I just took the tape, balled it and threw it away. I briefly did the same thing with my self-respect.
So thanks for the scrubs dad. And thanks for putting that tape on the crotch of every single pair of pants you gave me.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Joke Time
I am done saving lives for the night. One great thing about working in the evenings, I get some down time to peruse the Internet and post on my blog. This blog.
Well, since I do not know these people here and some of my posts are rather base, I decided that instead of typing in my blog address (which would then forever be in the drop down screen if someone were to peruse), I trued searching for funnynurse.blogspot.
This time, a funny nurse joke from another blog was the #1 hit.*
Here it is, for your enjoyment.
"I promise I won't laugh. No matter what it is, I have seen everything. What seems to be the problem?"
The man drops his pants to reveal the smallest penis the nurse has ever seen. Both in girth and length. It could be no larger than a AA battery.
The nurse immediately starts laughing. Uncontrollably. You know, one of those laughs that leads to crying. It is hysterical, and you can't stop, no matter what. She is just laughing it up.
The man is patient. She finally gains composure and apologizes.
"I swear on my life, that has never happened before and I promise it will never happen again. It was unprofessional and I am sorry. Please, tell me, what seems to be the problem"
"It's swollen"
I dunno...I kind of liked it.
*in case you were wondering, the search engine was not google. google is not that stupid. it usually brings me to exactly what I want every single time. god bless you google.
Well, since I do not know these people here and some of my posts are rather base, I decided that instead of typing in my blog address (which would then forever be in the drop down screen if someone were to peruse), I trued searching for funnynurse.blogspot.
This time, a funny nurse joke from another blog was the #1 hit.*
Here it is, for your enjoyment.
"I promise I won't laugh. No matter what it is, I have seen everything. What seems to be the problem?"
The man drops his pants to reveal the smallest penis the nurse has ever seen. Both in girth and length. It could be no larger than a AA battery.
The nurse immediately starts laughing. Uncontrollably. You know, one of those laughs that leads to crying. It is hysterical, and you can't stop, no matter what. She is just laughing it up.
The man is patient. She finally gains composure and apologizes.
"I swear on my life, that has never happened before and I promise it will never happen again. It was unprofessional and I am sorry. Please, tell me, what seems to be the problem"
"It's swollen"
I dunno...I kind of liked it.
*in case you were wondering, the search engine was not google. google is not that stupid. it usually brings me to exactly what I want every single time. god bless you google.
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