Overheard in the Car...

Tally: OMG,  this song is unicorn herpes!

Me: *blink blink* Whut?

Tally: You know? It's all *magical* and it never leaves you! You get it totally stuck in your head.

Me: Back in MY day, we called that an "earworm"...

Jenga Madness!

Believe it or not, I managed to reach my advanced age without ever playing the game Jenga. My daughters were quick to try to exploit my inexperience...to their detriment, as I proceeded to build to VICTORY and trounce them. Heheheheheh.

Here's a pic of one of Chaos' and my towers, it is an epic construction which proceeded to tumble mere seconds after this shot was taken.

I think it's pretty impressive!

Fun visit!

Yesterday, Rivendell was graced by the presence of Wally and the lovely A.!

Much delicious food was consumed, many fun discussions were had, and we got the dock put together and installed. (Wally, Sci-Fi, and various progeny literally took the plunge and did the lake end of things...I was more than willing to tote that barge and lift that bale, as long as I didn't have to get into the lake. BRRRRRR....)

It's nice to spend time with good friends, and we'll have to do it again REALLY SOON. Because fun. And because BACON AND BURGERS. :D

The Blue Zephyr...

...is a snazzy car to someone who drove a bare-bones, manual transmission car for almost a decade. It's automatic and it even has CRUISE CONTROL.

The only problem is, when you've worked hard all day and then have a three-hour drive in the rain, cruise control combined with the mesmerizing shush-shush of the windshield wipers, the cars in front of you throwing up clouds of mist, the hum of the tires on the wet pavement,  and the sameness of the countryside all lead to an increasingly rapidly approaching stupor.

Not really a safe situation.

Thank heavens for TallyAngel's conversation, my dog Harley's frantic attempts to get to the front of the car where the trash bag with the WENDY'S DETRITUS was located (yes, I'm positive in his teeny-tiny brain it was ALL IN CAPS), and caffeine.

We arrived safely in Rivendell, albeit a little damp around the edges, and now we're going to rest for a few days. Well deserved after the semester from hell.

While I'm sitting on my butt, surfing the 'net, reading trashy novels (and some not-so-trashy), and playing board games with most of my family, I will take more than one moment to reflect on those who gave their lives so that I can sit here in comfort, taking my ease.

Thank you so much for your sacrifice, I will never forget.

Beyond pissed.

Well, ONE FUCKING POINT destroyed my GPA. My 9-credit Adult Health class only had points from the four exams we took, even the final was only worth 25% of the grade. I got, respectively, 96, 86, 94, and 96 on the exams. All the papers I had to write for my clinical (which has the same professor) were worth nothing. I don't know why she bothered even grading them and assigning points. I don't know why I even bothered working so hard on them and why I stressed so much. If I had gotten ONE MORE QUESTION correct, on any of the exams, my overall score would have been 94. Instead, the average is 93. Which, of course, is an A-. Since it is a 9-credit class, this A- torpedoed my 4.0, and now I have a 3.927. I know, I know..."first world problem", right?

Whatever, all I know is that I don't know why I try so hard, and now there's no point anymore. Who cares?

_______________________________________________________________________________
Yes, I know the math is not quite right. The first three exams were 50 questions, two points each. The final was 100 questions, one point each. ARGH.

Bay-bee-sitt-er? What's that?

Yesterday afternoon, a lady scheduled for a massage arrived right on time.

Yay.

Unfortunately, she arrived with her two daughters, aged somewhere between eight and ten. Even more unfortunately, the two people working the reception desk were young, easily intimidated (read "steamrollered"), and didn't say anything until the client had already been taken back by the therapist for her session. Then, and only then, they called one of our managers to bitch about it "not being [their] job" to babysit.

No shit, Sherlock! What's far more important is the LIABILITY issue. Not to mention the other guests getting services...they certainly didn't want to hear a bunch of giggling and trampling of little feet down the halls.

The manager said the only thing he could: it was too late to do anything about it.

I really hope they drove home to the lady after her massage that she couldn't bring her kids with her again.

Unless she brings them right into the room with her (relaxing!). Otherwise the precedent has been set, and she'll think it's a-okay to schlepp her crotch-fruit with her to the spa anytime.

She and her kids are just lucky that I missed the whole kerfluffle because I was in services the entire time.

Duct tape is my friend...

heheheheheheh

Will you look at that?

I've got ANOTHER friend who's just published a kick-ass, SF novel!

Peter, aka Bayou Renaissance Man, has always been one of my favorites blog-reads, and his move to fiction is a wonderful and welcome development.

So, go, buy, and read "Take the Star Road". I guarantee you won't be disappointed!

Quote of the Day

Overheard in the kitchen...

"It's either kill me or get me a milkshake."

Saturday Haiku (Shades of Scarlett O'Hara)

My pets need their shots
waiting in line at Petco
estimate: one hour

An old yellow lab
shits aisle-blocking poo-puddle
sudden change of plans!

Tomorrow I'll try,
poosplosion-fate-temptation,
a different Petco!

Last day of clinical...

Had to work 1100-2330. Finished with a Code Blue that was unsuccessful. And my partner confused gout with goiter.

I've learned so much over the past few months, and I'm so grateful to my nurse/instructor, who does an excellent job at both. Now I've got three more exams and two finals, then my summer may begin!

Conversation during clinical

I'm at a computer, working on my nursing progress note of the day, when my partner approaches me...

Partner (looking down at her scut sheet): What's an MI again?

Me (trying to keep the disbelief from showing on my face or in my voice): A myocardial infarction...?

Partner: ...

Me (now unable to hide my incredulity): A heart attack?!

Partner (slapping her forehead with her palm): Oh, RIGHT! That makes sense, it says there was a metal stent placed. But why do I keep thinking "muscle"?

Me (in lecture mode): Because "myo" means "muscle"; the cardiac muscle is affected by a myocardial infarction...

Partner: Right, thanks...now I just have to look up what sennosides are...

Me: ...

I think I have a permanent bruise on my forehead from all the headdesking I've been doing.

Iron Man III

GO.
SEE.
IT!!!!

Awkward.

When my heavily pregnant client informs me, "Yeah, my husband is kind of an asshole."

Faith in Humanity Restored:

when a busker at a train station stops in the middle of a song to give a clueless tourist directions.