Hello all,
I've been running around all day working. Never have I been happy to say that. Grateful maybe, just because having job is life (literally), but not exactly like thrilled to be doing it. I drove out to the hospital twice today and had a stupid smile stretched across my chubby cheeks the whole time whilst I rapped all three verses of Truffle Butter with precision. Three top accomplishments to date are: graduating from FSU, landing a job at the most prestigious hospital in the state of Florida, and being able to rap the hell out of Truffle Butter. I even have different voices for Drake, Wayne, and Nicki. Between that and some old school Dashboard Confessional, I was a cheerful clam.
As most of you know, I am working as a "standardized patient," at a hospital. It is theatre and medicine combined aka my fucking dream come true! Most days, like this morning, I am playing a patient with something or another going on. Sometimes is like something actually wrong with me, other times it's a interactive type scenario where medical professionals have to learn how to deal with certain types of patients and still do their job effectively. This morning, I was an overly chatty, interruptive patient annoying the absolute hell out of two nurses trying to give report to each other as the shift change occurs. I had to do it three times, each time getting progressively more talkative. First is just kind of a few questions pertaining to my health/condition, the second was interrupt their conversation with several questions about my condition, the third is just say whatever about whatever while they are doing their best to ignore the shit out of me without making me feel ignored but also maintaining composure enough to still do what they need to do. This is easy for me, I am already overly chatty and annoying, so there really is no "acting" involved. This morning's run through for the third round involved me interrupting with Game of Thrones memes, tasty recipes (that I was reminded I shouldn't eat while on my cardiac diet), pictures of my Washington trip, and laughing obnoxiously loud at anything and everything. My favorite was when they were talking about medicine to make me poop, and I was just like, "Yeah, is there anything we can do about that because I am literally in there every hour crapping my brains out, and wooow is it bad." I don't know why I thought to do that, but I did and it was golden. I had my ear piece in with my boss feeding me medical information that I might not have had and she was cracking up. Bless those nurses, I know they put up with this shit and worse all day every day.
I mentioned I went twice today, morning was chatty, interruptive patient, and for the afternoon I was an ultrasound model. It is probably the only thing I will ever "model" for since I am not tall and skinny, so I eat it up. I may not have a tiny waist anymore, but dammit if my cardiac windows aren't so great that it's sexy! I basically got paid to lay in bed and let four handsome doctors give me an in depth check up on my internal organs, which I am happy to report all appear to look how they should. I got to see my heart, lungs, kidney, liver and spleen. Nothing gives you an ego quite like a hot as fuck doctor telling you how amazing your peristernal cardiac view is while rubbing your side boob with an ultrasound wand covered in warmed ultrasound jelly. It's the shit, you guys!
But, as amazing as this sounds, this is not how it was supposed to go today, oooooh no. So, I got this assignment about a week ago and was told it would be abdominal ultrasound and DVT which involves scanning the inside of my thigh like 2 friggin centimeters away from my vag. Like the Usher song, I was gonna have to pull the panties to the side. This is no problem as I am not a modest girl and they do everything in their power to make you feel comfortable and secure with leaving clothes on and draping. It is all scholarly and shit, and pays better than stripping, so of course I agreed. So, being the nice person I am, I decide I was going to make sure I was cleaned up so I didn't scare these nice doctors with the forbidden forest I had been growing in my pants.This stems from more than just laziness, I assure you. Until last week, we didn't have hot water at the condo because out heating element was apparently bad (and it was, when the guy pulled it out it looked like ET's finger after finger banging a vat of acid). Showers were quick because the water temp was like Elsa letting it all go. So, shaving has kind of been null and void around here. This was fine, because I have been wanting to go back to waxing anyways and in order to do that, you have to let things get a little "Where the Wild Things are." Well, I went way past "Where the Wild Things are," straight to "Fern Gully," and it was time something be done about it.
I went and ate wings with my friends last night, and conveniently the waxing place is right up the road. So, smelling like buffalo sauce and not exactly prepared, I walked in and essentially begged for an appointment. I had been emboldened by a Blue Moon and Franks Redhot hot sauce, and it was now or the razor later. I really wanted to do this, because I actually like it, but past memories made me start to sweat. It is not bad, I know this, but since it had been so long, I panicked as my mind falsely created child birth like pains in my imagination. This is for the doctors, I told myself as I awkwardly wiggled my sweaty ass down to the end of the chair and let the poor victim assigned my my case do her thing. It was done, beautiful, and I was fully satisfied. Well, halfway, until I pulled through Starbucks for a venti skinny iced caramel machiatto with extra caramel just to set something cold on my then on fire crotch. Then, I was totally satisfied. I got home, feeling really accomplished and proud of myself for thinking of the workplace happiness of others.
Today arrives. I get to my little slice of workplace heaven and find out that my obviouslynevergonnahappenofficecrush is going to be doing my ultrasounds today. Good, I am glad I made the sacrifice I made since I have to see him all the time. I am sure he has seen far fucking worse than some mildly out of control pubic hair, but still, I was internally beaming because I am sure he would unconsciously appreciate it. Then he says the worst thing he could have ever said. "We are going to do cardiac and lung views today." Oh fucking kay. All of that torture for nothing! Fuck my boyfriend at home, he's used to my savagery, but I took time and went above and below to prepare for this, for you so you didn't have to deal with that! That's not the worst/ funniest part. In order to do these types of ultrasounds, we usually wear bikini tops to allow access to under and side boob without exposing too much skin. Sports bras and regular bras have thick bands that are not as easily moved. Guess what I was wearing today. Yep, that's right, a fucking sports bra with the thickest band possible. Okay. Not panicking. I mention to my boss and she's all like, "No problem, I gotchu girl." **Boss hands me an extra small bikini top** **Panicking**
I put on this bikini top and it is literally nipple pasties on me. Two Cheezits on a string would have covered more. I look like Staci fucking Keebler from WWF back in the day except I don't have her rocking hot bod. Like I am still just amazed these boobs were restrained by that little contraption. Sweating starts, and god we don't need any of that while I am wearing a a top that looks like two Triscuits and dental floss might be more supportive. As I am attempting to get all the boob the top would allow into the top, I notice something else. Out of the corner of my eye, I see little black hairs popping up like carrots tops in the snow. I didn't shave my fucking armpits. Awesome.
I was fuming. I dipped half my body in wax last night while completely sober out of the goodness of my heart only for my guy to be like, "nevermind fam, we gone do something totally different." Last time I checked, heart and lungs were not part of your abdomen, nor are they located in the thigh area where you start "getting nervous" when you are playing "Are you Nervous?" So, I did what anyone would do. I walked into the faux Emergency department, where they were all waiting on me, trying to cover all I could possibly cover with my patient gown, and just openly apologized. I said, "Before you get in here, I just want you to know, I only prepared from here down (indicating my bellybutton down to my little cocktail weenie toes) because I thought we were doing this area. Any horrors you experience are on you for changing your mind. There's armpit hair and an amazing amount of underboob happening, so just beware."
As I expected, the response was, "I've seen worse. Trust me, I'm a doctor."
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Friday, July 21, 2017
Hot Light Bling
Hello all!
Greetings from a super wild Friday night spent in playing video games and snuggling silly puppies. This is pretty rare for us. Not that we are wild party goers or throwers, but we usually pick one night out of the week to venture out. That night is usually a Friday night. On Friday nights, we usually get the gang together, all like three and a half of us that are left, and go grab a bite at one of the happening Riverside joints and maybe have an adult beverage or two (just one Trashcan, right Travis?). Tonight was not going to be like that. We decided to stay in for two reasons. One, we are heading out to the beautiful PNW (Pacific Northwest, bitches) in a few weeks, and we would like all of our monies to be available to spend there on things like delicious Russian pastries, Mt. Rainier excursions, zoo admissions, and kayak rentals. I am really trying to kayak with the orcas, so this may be one of my last blog posts. If it is, it has been a pleasure entertaining you all at my expense. The other reason, I just really don't feel all that great. Super crampy, bloated, you know, the works, and I've been up since like 6:35 (which is a very rare occurrence for me). I really didn't feel like trying to get cute and go sit at one of our local haunts to be dripping sweat from the lack of AC in these decrepit, I mean.. "charming," Riverside buildings. I did not really want to try to hold in any of my Foghorn Leghorn farts that I knew would be coming. It's inevitable when I am all bloated like this, no getting around it. Since those are typically frowned upon in public places, I was not going to risk it just to have a night out.
But, Nick was not having it. He was at least going to get us to Lola's burrito joint. Just what I need to ease the gas, burritos. Great. He has been obsessed with this place since we finally went there for dinner with my brother a few weeks back. If you are ever in Riverside, and you have never been to Lola's, you should stop in! The burritos are amazing, as are their skinny fries with cheese. I am clueless as fuck as to why anyone would name fried potato sticks "skinny fries" because they are anything but that, but it's not my restaurant. Maybe it's a tactic to make women feel a little better about ordering a side of fries. BTW, the side of fries is enough to feed at least three hungry bitches who, "just had the worst day at work," and just broke up with their boyfriends. Nick and I can barely finish an order, and his ability to put food down is disgusting.
Back to Lola's, I strongly recommend the "Curious George' which is a burrito with fried plantains stuffed into it. Heaven. Sweet, sweet Heaven. Tonight was like no other, it was packed, it was hotter than Satan's asscrack in a Juicy Couture track suit, and we had to wait. Which we shouldn't have, since Nick called to put our name on the list, since neither of us were trying to fuck around after being out in the sun trying to rid our trash bins of black widow spiders (we will get to that in a little bit). They told us 15 minutes, we got up there in 13 and our name had somehow already been called and scratched out... Okay. Remember, gassy, bloated, and just had to Steve Irwin a nest of spiders, and the hostess wanted to say, "Sorry, your name already got called and bumped off the list, you can sit outside if you like..." NO! NO! NO! I would rather scratch my eyes out and put your "best tequila in Riverside" in my eye sockets than sit out in that 80000 degree area that y'all call a patio. Not her fault, but I was saltier than the rim of a margarita as we waited another 15 minute wait for an indoor table. It was well worth it though. We were seriously entertained by a little girl who smacked her head on the corner of a table and took it like a champ, and then an older woman falling down by her booth and all of her tablemates swearing there was water on the ground and jumping up to take pictures. There was no water. This was obvious to us and several very amused guests at the bar. We felt bad for the lady who fell, but what a shit show.
We didn't order entrees this time, just the skinny fries and a couple of margs. I tried their frozen marg, anything to cool my sweaty ass and insufferable attitude down. That, along with Nick's serious effort to tell me funny jokes, worked like a charm! Here is one of the jokes: Two men walked into a bar, the third one ducked. Attitude was gone, sweat vanished, but I was still not feeling well. I told Nick he was going to have to bolt down his margarita and mine so we could leave Lola's before I blasted a hole through the booth. He did, with a very serious look on his face, and determination to leave his new favorite dinner spot intact.
In the car, I am thanking God that we only live five minutes away, because I do not know what is about to happen, but I knew better than to gamble with my life and the lives of others like that. Tummy all rumbles, we make it home. False alarm though, just air and bloat killing me slowly as it looks for an exit one way or another. I lay in bed, still praising that that had all passed, watched a wedding video of someone I went to school with (it was lovely), and realized, I wanted something sweet. We don't keep sweet stuff around the house, because my fat ass cannot control myself. So, anytime I want something sweet, I have to ask myself, "are you willing to put on a bra and go out in public just to get something sweet?" 8/10 the answer is no, fuck no I will just eat some fruit. You had me at, "put on a bra."
But tonight, my crampy cravings won over. Because sugar totally helps cramps, right? I thought of the one thing I have been craving since we had them about a month ago. Doughnuts! And not just any doughnuts, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. I knew I had to have one. But the closest one to my house is on Cassat Ave, and it is the most rachet Krispy Kreme I have ever been to. On the rare occasion that Nick and I splurge on something like doughnuts, we go to that Krispy Kreme. Again, because it is the closest. But every time we have been, it takes at least 45 minutes for them to serve three vehicles, they are constantly talking shit about the customers over the mic that is linked to the drive thru, and they have to ask us to repeat our order twice at the window. Every. Single. Time. Our order is literally two dougnuts, sometimes three (one for Nick's control of steel self, and two for me) if I am feeling like I can afford those calories (it is a lie I tell myself, who the hell am I kidding? I can never afford those calories). So I am far from understanding how a two item order can be confusing. Like you can't special order a premade doughnut like you could a burger. But somehow, they always ask us twice at the window to repeat the order. Was I really going to go through such foolery for a friggin' doughnut tonight? Yes, yes I was.
I pulled up and saw the hot light on. Praises. Even though I did not want a hot glazed doughnut, the hot light still made me all happy and warm inside. I get in line behind this mini van, she orders a dozen doughnuts. Fuck me. We will be here all night with them trying to get her order right when she inevitably has to repeat herself at the window. It takes 25 minutes. I clocked it. Meanwhile, the man behind us is howling trying to get Eli, my hound, to howl back. I decided to take them with me so they could go on a ride. It was quite amusing having Eli flit madly about the car, but he's not a cool howling hound, so the guy was trying in vain. Back to the lady in the mini van. It is so sad, I know what that lady ordered. She ordered 6 hot glazed, two chocolate iced, one sourcream, one blueberry, 2 chocolate Kreme filled. I know, because I heard her repeat it about 587 times. She was pissed too. She was all red in the face, little vein popping up round her forehead. Solid enough that I can tell from her rearview mirror that she keeps scoping out. She was about to get out her mini van, hop on her scooter that is attached to the back of her van, and roll in there and cuss all the high teenagers they got working there out. She finally moves on with whatever variety they have given her. After 25 minutes, 25 long ass minutes.
I am ready to repeat my order when she asks, "one chocolate glazed, one sour cream, one blueberry (I couldn't decide, so ordering them all was obviously the way to go, right?). She gives me false hope when she nods understandingly. She closes the window, walks away, comes back a few moments later with a bag containing my goodies. But I know better than to pull away confidently. I check the bag. Sure enough, there was one blueberry, two hot glazed. This combo is fine any other day, but I wanted something chocolate, dammit. She comes back, as if she already knows, and opens the window, asks what my order is again and walks away. She is gone for 4 minutes. Where in the hell could she have possibly gone?! I am concerned for her safety when she returns with another bag. This time I don't care what it has in it, I am just ready to get home and be done with this foolery. But I am hoping she heard my super simple order. I pulled away, look into the bag and discovered one blueberry, one sour cream, and one white doughnut with some chocolate drizzle on it. Nope.
Moral of the story is, when the hot light is on, just get the damned hot glazed doughnuts. Or just stay home and eat your pineapple like the good girl you are supposed to be.
Greetings from a super wild Friday night spent in playing video games and snuggling silly puppies. This is pretty rare for us. Not that we are wild party goers or throwers, but we usually pick one night out of the week to venture out. That night is usually a Friday night. On Friday nights, we usually get the gang together, all like three and a half of us that are left, and go grab a bite at one of the happening Riverside joints and maybe have an adult beverage or two (just one Trashcan, right Travis?). Tonight was not going to be like that. We decided to stay in for two reasons. One, we are heading out to the beautiful PNW (Pacific Northwest, bitches) in a few weeks, and we would like all of our monies to be available to spend there on things like delicious Russian pastries, Mt. Rainier excursions, zoo admissions, and kayak rentals. I am really trying to kayak with the orcas, so this may be one of my last blog posts. If it is, it has been a pleasure entertaining you all at my expense. The other reason, I just really don't feel all that great. Super crampy, bloated, you know, the works, and I've been up since like 6:35 (which is a very rare occurrence for me). I really didn't feel like trying to get cute and go sit at one of our local haunts to be dripping sweat from the lack of AC in these decrepit, I mean.. "charming," Riverside buildings. I did not really want to try to hold in any of my Foghorn Leghorn farts that I knew would be coming. It's inevitable when I am all bloated like this, no getting around it. Since those are typically frowned upon in public places, I was not going to risk it just to have a night out.
But, Nick was not having it. He was at least going to get us to Lola's burrito joint. Just what I need to ease the gas, burritos. Great. He has been obsessed with this place since we finally went there for dinner with my brother a few weeks back. If you are ever in Riverside, and you have never been to Lola's, you should stop in! The burritos are amazing, as are their skinny fries with cheese. I am clueless as fuck as to why anyone would name fried potato sticks "skinny fries" because they are anything but that, but it's not my restaurant. Maybe it's a tactic to make women feel a little better about ordering a side of fries. BTW, the side of fries is enough to feed at least three hungry bitches who, "just had the worst day at work," and just broke up with their boyfriends. Nick and I can barely finish an order, and his ability to put food down is disgusting.
Back to Lola's, I strongly recommend the "Curious George' which is a burrito with fried plantains stuffed into it. Heaven. Sweet, sweet Heaven. Tonight was like no other, it was packed, it was hotter than Satan's asscrack in a Juicy Couture track suit, and we had to wait. Which we shouldn't have, since Nick called to put our name on the list, since neither of us were trying to fuck around after being out in the sun trying to rid our trash bins of black widow spiders (we will get to that in a little bit). They told us 15 minutes, we got up there in 13 and our name had somehow already been called and scratched out... Okay. Remember, gassy, bloated, and just had to Steve Irwin a nest of spiders, and the hostess wanted to say, "Sorry, your name already got called and bumped off the list, you can sit outside if you like..." NO! NO! NO! I would rather scratch my eyes out and put your "best tequila in Riverside" in my eye sockets than sit out in that 80000 degree area that y'all call a patio. Not her fault, but I was saltier than the rim of a margarita as we waited another 15 minute wait for an indoor table. It was well worth it though. We were seriously entertained by a little girl who smacked her head on the corner of a table and took it like a champ, and then an older woman falling down by her booth and all of her tablemates swearing there was water on the ground and jumping up to take pictures. There was no water. This was obvious to us and several very amused guests at the bar. We felt bad for the lady who fell, but what a shit show.
We didn't order entrees this time, just the skinny fries and a couple of margs. I tried their frozen marg, anything to cool my sweaty ass and insufferable attitude down. That, along with Nick's serious effort to tell me funny jokes, worked like a charm! Here is one of the jokes: Two men walked into a bar, the third one ducked. Attitude was gone, sweat vanished, but I was still not feeling well. I told Nick he was going to have to bolt down his margarita and mine so we could leave Lola's before I blasted a hole through the booth. He did, with a very serious look on his face, and determination to leave his new favorite dinner spot intact.
In the car, I am thanking God that we only live five minutes away, because I do not know what is about to happen, but I knew better than to gamble with my life and the lives of others like that. Tummy all rumbles, we make it home. False alarm though, just air and bloat killing me slowly as it looks for an exit one way or another. I lay in bed, still praising that that had all passed, watched a wedding video of someone I went to school with (it was lovely), and realized, I wanted something sweet. We don't keep sweet stuff around the house, because my fat ass cannot control myself. So, anytime I want something sweet, I have to ask myself, "are you willing to put on a bra and go out in public just to get something sweet?" 8/10 the answer is no, fuck no I will just eat some fruit. You had me at, "put on a bra."
But tonight, my crampy cravings won over. Because sugar totally helps cramps, right? I thought of the one thing I have been craving since we had them about a month ago. Doughnuts! And not just any doughnuts, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. I knew I had to have one. But the closest one to my house is on Cassat Ave, and it is the most rachet Krispy Kreme I have ever been to. On the rare occasion that Nick and I splurge on something like doughnuts, we go to that Krispy Kreme. Again, because it is the closest. But every time we have been, it takes at least 45 minutes for them to serve three vehicles, they are constantly talking shit about the customers over the mic that is linked to the drive thru, and they have to ask us to repeat our order twice at the window. Every. Single. Time. Our order is literally two dougnuts, sometimes three (one for Nick's control of steel self, and two for me) if I am feeling like I can afford those calories (it is a lie I tell myself, who the hell am I kidding? I can never afford those calories). So I am far from understanding how a two item order can be confusing. Like you can't special order a premade doughnut like you could a burger. But somehow, they always ask us twice at the window to repeat the order. Was I really going to go through such foolery for a friggin' doughnut tonight? Yes, yes I was.
I pulled up and saw the hot light on. Praises. Even though I did not want a hot glazed doughnut, the hot light still made me all happy and warm inside. I get in line behind this mini van, she orders a dozen doughnuts. Fuck me. We will be here all night with them trying to get her order right when she inevitably has to repeat herself at the window. It takes 25 minutes. I clocked it. Meanwhile, the man behind us is howling trying to get Eli, my hound, to howl back. I decided to take them with me so they could go on a ride. It was quite amusing having Eli flit madly about the car, but he's not a cool howling hound, so the guy was trying in vain. Back to the lady in the mini van. It is so sad, I know what that lady ordered. She ordered 6 hot glazed, two chocolate iced, one sourcream, one blueberry, 2 chocolate Kreme filled. I know, because I heard her repeat it about 587 times. She was pissed too. She was all red in the face, little vein popping up round her forehead. Solid enough that I can tell from her rearview mirror that she keeps scoping out. She was about to get out her mini van, hop on her scooter that is attached to the back of her van, and roll in there and cuss all the high teenagers they got working there out. She finally moves on with whatever variety they have given her. After 25 minutes, 25 long ass minutes.
I am ready to repeat my order when she asks, "one chocolate glazed, one sour cream, one blueberry (I couldn't decide, so ordering them all was obviously the way to go, right?). She gives me false hope when she nods understandingly. She closes the window, walks away, comes back a few moments later with a bag containing my goodies. But I know better than to pull away confidently. I check the bag. Sure enough, there was one blueberry, two hot glazed. This combo is fine any other day, but I wanted something chocolate, dammit. She comes back, as if she already knows, and opens the window, asks what my order is again and walks away. She is gone for 4 minutes. Where in the hell could she have possibly gone?! I am concerned for her safety when she returns with another bag. This time I don't care what it has in it, I am just ready to get home and be done with this foolery. But I am hoping she heard my super simple order. I pulled away, look into the bag and discovered one blueberry, one sour cream, and one white doughnut with some chocolate drizzle on it. Nope.
Moral of the story is, when the hot light is on, just get the damned hot glazed doughnuts. Or just stay home and eat your pineapple like the good girl you are supposed to be.
Monday, July 17, 2017
For Your Eyes Only
I can feel it in me. It’s time. That primal need in me stirs, roars up slowly, letting me know that I am ready, that I am hungry, that I am wanting. I try to stifle the feeling, the rumble within, in vain. Nothing can stop it now. Nothing can stop me now. The feeling consumes me, from my toes all the way up to my mouth until I swallow it whole. I can no longer sit still, so I rise. I rise to go fulfill my desire.
The surface where it will happen is clean and cold. In a few moments, it will be warmed by heat, by powerful force. But for a few moments, I have to wait. I have to be still. I have to prepare. Everything I need is at my hands, I am ready.
It is time to lay it down. As I do, I can feel the heat coil up over the sides. It is practically sizzling. I slide something between. It bubbles up, it bubbles over, it is dripping over the edge in a matter of seconds. I am content here.
But only for a moment. The contentedness ebbs, I need to move. I know soon I will have to move. To have it the same all over, I must make a move. To flip over. So, I do.
The same is repeated on this side. I need it to be the same. To my satisfaction, just as the other. I know better than to rush things, I know. I must be patient, to let it sit for a few moments, before it can be finished. I want it to be finished, I crave it to the point of tasting it. Tasting its pleasure. But I am patient. I know better than to rush a good thing before it is better.
Any second now, I know the end is coming. It is melting, dripping faster than before now. It is all over the surface. I cannot wait anymore, I cannot. It has to happen now. Oh, God, yes! It is happening now. It has happened and it is bliss. I take some, and put it in my mouth. I taste it.
Then I place it down on a plate, my hot, melty, delicious homemade grilled cheese, and walk back into the living room to turn on another episode of One Tree Hill.
The surface where it will happen is clean and cold. In a few moments, it will be warmed by heat, by powerful force. But for a few moments, I have to wait. I have to be still. I have to prepare. Everything I need is at my hands, I am ready.
It is time to lay it down. As I do, I can feel the heat coil up over the sides. It is practically sizzling. I slide something between. It bubbles up, it bubbles over, it is dripping over the edge in a matter of seconds. I am content here.
But only for a moment. The contentedness ebbs, I need to move. I know soon I will have to move. To have it the same all over, I must make a move. To flip over. So, I do.
The same is repeated on this side. I need it to be the same. To my satisfaction, just as the other. I know better than to rush things, I know. I must be patient, to let it sit for a few moments, before it can be finished. I want it to be finished, I crave it to the point of tasting it. Tasting its pleasure. But I am patient. I know better than to rush a good thing before it is better.
Any second now, I know the end is coming. It is melting, dripping faster than before now. It is all over the surface. I cannot wait anymore, I cannot. It has to happen now. Oh, God, yes! It is happening now. It has happened and it is bliss. I take some, and put it in my mouth. I taste it.
Then I place it down on a plate, my hot, melty, delicious homemade grilled cheese, and walk back into the living room to turn on another episode of One Tree Hill.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Oh, Shit!
Hello all,
Wanted to drop in and tell y'all a semi- funny story. It's probably not that great, but I enjoyed suffering through it.
Saturday was a pretty lazy day for the Overstreet-Frey household. I decided to leave the house and go get some Diet Cokes. Of course, it only made sense to drive cross town to make that purchase at Target, you know, instead of merely walking to the Publix that is one block away from our sweet little corner bungalow. Somehow, I didn't even make it to Target, I got sidetracked and ended up in my favorite place: TJ Maxx. I am so serious, if they sold meat, fresh veggies, and drinks, I wouldn't shop anywhere else! That place is a goldmine to me, and haters gone hate to those who do not feel the same way. I don't know who wouldn't be over the moon to find a super cute Tommy Hilfiger dress and some throw pillows to match for 30 bucks, but they must be a miserable fuck.
So, I get lost down aisles of trendy lamps and weird, but delicious snacks, for a few minutes. Luckily, I come to my senses before the point of no return and make a reasonable purchase of a few dog toys for my two ridiculously spoiled doggos, some socks to replace Nick's stank ass overly worn work socks, and some weird chocolate candies that are to die for. I remember Target, surely there must be one close by. There is, I realize, just up the road, and start to make my way towards it before the buyer's remorse sets in deep.
As I am jamming out to Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede, my song cuts out to a phone call from Nick. I answer it curiously, as he usually does not call me. We've been dating for about two and a half years now, and I can probably count all of our actual phone calls on my fingers and maybe the toes on one of my feet. I can tell something is mildly wrong, just by the way he is talking with sheer surprise in his voice. Our phone call went something like this:
Me: "Hey babe, what's up?"
Nick: "Nothing much, just about to leave for the gym. But uh, when I was on my way out, I heard a weird noise and thought maybe it was the dogs so I went back inside to check. It did it again and I figured it was coming from upstairs nothing to worry about. I thought, since I am back inside, I'll pee before I head out to the gym. But, uh, when I went into the bathroom, I was hit with a fucking awful smell and thought maybe you'd just blown up the toilet without warning me before you left. I didn't see any evidence of that, and then I realized, it was coming from the tub. Cara, there is brown doo- doo water in our tub. I don't know what is happening. What do I do?"
Me: *in shock*: "Oh, um... Well, that's friggin' gross as shit."
Nick: "Yeah, and the toilet won't flush either."
Me: *panicking because I already know I am going to have Starbucks later, which for me is the equivalent of a colon cleanse*: "Oh, that definitely isn't good. Let me call my uncle aka landlord to see what is going on."
I whip a wild U-turn, even though Nick says it is not necessary, the doo doo brown water will probably be here when you get done doing what you are doing, and dial my uncle's number. Thank god, he answers. Praises.
Me: "Hey, Uncle Shaw, um Nick just called me and told me we have like sewer water backed up in our tub right now... is that normal?" (stupid, obviously it's not fucking normal, there is shit water in your tub where the suds and bath bombs should be).
Uncle: "Oh, wow, um sorry about that. No, it isn't normal, but it has happened before, old plumbing system in the building, too much water being run upstairs at one time, who knows, but it usually resolves itself, but let me know if it doesn't. It's a shitty situation, literally, but just take some bleach to it when it drains."
Me: "Okay, got it, see you in a few weeks!"
Forgot to mention: NICK AND I JUST BOOKED OUR FLIGHT TO SEATTLE TO GO SEE MY GRANDPARENTS AND AUNT AND UNCLE IN AUGUST! IT IS OUR FIRST PLANE TRIP TOGETHER AND I AM SO FRIGGIN EXCITED!
I get home, drop the TJ Maxx bag in the kitchen, where it is safe from any permeating stench, as Nick has warned me the house smells like butthole. Expecting the worst, I creep around the corner to find him, plunger in hand trying to tackle the brown beast that is in our tub. He looks mortified. I am giddy with entertainment at his expression of defeat. The plunging does not seem to help, so I suggest we retreat and hopefully it will just go down like in past times. He is leaving for the gym, my fat ass is pleased at an offer of Mellow Mushroom with my brother and his girlfriend. We both escape the foul doo doo water for a while.
Freshly full from a delicious pie (Kosmic Karma, add pepperoni please, side of Sweetwater Blue), I return to my keep to see if the brown beast has retreated back down the pipes where it belongs. To my horror, it is about three inches higher. I cringe thinking we will have to defile the Walgreens bathroom later, should the need arise. The need would be probable, after greasy pizza and coffee. One is usually enough to do the job. I turn to leave and hear a not-of-this-earth sound, and watch the water rise even higher. Oh, the horror! I call my uncle back and say it is getting worse, he comes through and says a plumber will be out first thing in the morning. Crossing my fingers, it only has so many inches to go before the doo doo water peaks the sides of the tub and takes over the house slowly.
My adult way of handling this shituation? Retreating! We loaded up the dogs and left for a Starbucks and Pokemon Go date as planned. Nothing was standing in the way of one of our cheap date nights, not even a tub for of poo water. After a cold brew with sweet cream and a raid on a gym, we returned home, crossing all of our fingers that the plumbing problem had resolved itself. I peaked around the corner with caution, praying and hoping. To my delight, all the doo doo water had receded to the sewers below.
Small victories in the life of young adults are so important.
Wanted to drop in and tell y'all a semi- funny story. It's probably not that great, but I enjoyed suffering through it.
Saturday was a pretty lazy day for the Overstreet-Frey household. I decided to leave the house and go get some Diet Cokes. Of course, it only made sense to drive cross town to make that purchase at Target, you know, instead of merely walking to the Publix that is one block away from our sweet little corner bungalow. Somehow, I didn't even make it to Target, I got sidetracked and ended up in my favorite place: TJ Maxx. I am so serious, if they sold meat, fresh veggies, and drinks, I wouldn't shop anywhere else! That place is a goldmine to me, and haters gone hate to those who do not feel the same way. I don't know who wouldn't be over the moon to find a super cute Tommy Hilfiger dress and some throw pillows to match for 30 bucks, but they must be a miserable fuck.
So, I get lost down aisles of trendy lamps and weird, but delicious snacks, for a few minutes. Luckily, I come to my senses before the point of no return and make a reasonable purchase of a few dog toys for my two ridiculously spoiled doggos, some socks to replace Nick's stank ass overly worn work socks, and some weird chocolate candies that are to die for. I remember Target, surely there must be one close by. There is, I realize, just up the road, and start to make my way towards it before the buyer's remorse sets in deep.
As I am jamming out to Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede, my song cuts out to a phone call from Nick. I answer it curiously, as he usually does not call me. We've been dating for about two and a half years now, and I can probably count all of our actual phone calls on my fingers and maybe the toes on one of my feet. I can tell something is mildly wrong, just by the way he is talking with sheer surprise in his voice. Our phone call went something like this:
Me: "Hey babe, what's up?"
Nick: "Nothing much, just about to leave for the gym. But uh, when I was on my way out, I heard a weird noise and thought maybe it was the dogs so I went back inside to check. It did it again and I figured it was coming from upstairs nothing to worry about. I thought, since I am back inside, I'll pee before I head out to the gym. But, uh, when I went into the bathroom, I was hit with a fucking awful smell and thought maybe you'd just blown up the toilet without warning me before you left. I didn't see any evidence of that, and then I realized, it was coming from the tub. Cara, there is brown doo- doo water in our tub. I don't know what is happening. What do I do?"
Me: *in shock*: "Oh, um... Well, that's friggin' gross as shit."
Nick: "Yeah, and the toilet won't flush either."
Me: *panicking because I already know I am going to have Starbucks later, which for me is the equivalent of a colon cleanse*: "Oh, that definitely isn't good. Let me call my uncle aka landlord to see what is going on."
I whip a wild U-turn, even though Nick says it is not necessary, the doo doo brown water will probably be here when you get done doing what you are doing, and dial my uncle's number. Thank god, he answers. Praises.
Me: "Hey, Uncle Shaw, um Nick just called me and told me we have like sewer water backed up in our tub right now... is that normal?" (stupid, obviously it's not fucking normal, there is shit water in your tub where the suds and bath bombs should be).
Uncle: "Oh, wow, um sorry about that. No, it isn't normal, but it has happened before, old plumbing system in the building, too much water being run upstairs at one time, who knows, but it usually resolves itself, but let me know if it doesn't. It's a shitty situation, literally, but just take some bleach to it when it drains."
Me: "Okay, got it, see you in a few weeks!"
Forgot to mention: NICK AND I JUST BOOKED OUR FLIGHT TO SEATTLE TO GO SEE MY GRANDPARENTS AND AUNT AND UNCLE IN AUGUST! IT IS OUR FIRST PLANE TRIP TOGETHER AND I AM SO FRIGGIN EXCITED!
I get home, drop the TJ Maxx bag in the kitchen, where it is safe from any permeating stench, as Nick has warned me the house smells like butthole. Expecting the worst, I creep around the corner to find him, plunger in hand trying to tackle the brown beast that is in our tub. He looks mortified. I am giddy with entertainment at his expression of defeat. The plunging does not seem to help, so I suggest we retreat and hopefully it will just go down like in past times. He is leaving for the gym, my fat ass is pleased at an offer of Mellow Mushroom with my brother and his girlfriend. We both escape the foul doo doo water for a while.
Freshly full from a delicious pie (Kosmic Karma, add pepperoni please, side of Sweetwater Blue), I return to my keep to see if the brown beast has retreated back down the pipes where it belongs. To my horror, it is about three inches higher. I cringe thinking we will have to defile the Walgreens bathroom later, should the need arise. The need would be probable, after greasy pizza and coffee. One is usually enough to do the job. I turn to leave and hear a not-of-this-earth sound, and watch the water rise even higher. Oh, the horror! I call my uncle back and say it is getting worse, he comes through and says a plumber will be out first thing in the morning. Crossing my fingers, it only has so many inches to go before the doo doo water peaks the sides of the tub and takes over the house slowly.
My adult way of handling this shituation? Retreating! We loaded up the dogs and left for a Starbucks and Pokemon Go date as planned. Nothing was standing in the way of one of our cheap date nights, not even a tub for of poo water. After a cold brew with sweet cream and a raid on a gym, we returned home, crossing all of our fingers that the plumbing problem had resolved itself. I peaked around the corner with caution, praying and hoping. To my delight, all the doo doo water had receded to the sewers below.
Small victories in the life of young adults are so important.
Lions, Tigers, and Bears.. Oh, My!
Hello all!
Phoning in from my little bungalow on a sweetly dreary rainy Sunday night. About 3 minutes ago, I sent a real ugly Snapchat to some close friends wishing them a happy Sunday. Anybody else only use the "ugly" filters on Snapchat? Is that just me? I feel like it probably is. Like I don't use Snapchat to be all model-esque. If I have you on Snapchat, it is a sure sign that I trust you with the sensitive material aka pictures of me with 8 chins vs the normal 2 and a half.
It is funny really, I have like 206 Snapchat names because I only tend to Snap when I am out with friends and they are doing it. I will use it for like a night and then not get back on for weeks, thus resulting in forgetting my login information. A few weeks ago, I made yet another account whilst out with Destiny, Cassie, and the menfolk who we have chosen to be our life partners (drink getters, foot rubbers, back scratchers, pizza orderers, etc). Nick has been working nights (and days) so my boredom level at night sometimes is through the roof. Since there is not a "safe" Walmart anywhere near me to wander aimlessly around at night, I've taken to laying in bed and laughing at myself with the "ugly" Snapchat filters. I almost peed the bed last Sunday when I turned myself into a peach! Couldn't tell you why I thought it was so funny, but that one for some reason really tickled me.
Since Nick has been working seemingly endless shifts, both day and night, I tend to want to keep him to myself on the weekends. I'm stingy, so I don't fuck with my limited time with him. Of course, I get to see him more than anyone else, but that is besides the point... This weekend, I decided to leave him here at the house by himself for a little while. There are only a couple reasons that I would do that: one being that TJ Maxx is having a huge sale, two being that someone invites me to go see some animals. Sadly, TJ Maxx was not having a sale, so you can work it out for yourself that animals were what lured me out of my love shack away from my boo. I'd spent the whole day Friday and Saturday with him, up his ass wanting cuddles, so I figured I'd spare him a Sunday morning so he could be the loner introvert he truly is and go play with the Anteaters and Poison Dart Frogs instead.
Do yall remember the kids I used to keep a few years ago? My first nannying family? The family and I are still friends and see each other often. Side note: if you are looking for any kind of job or are thinking of interviewing somewhere, do yourself a favor and ask if you could picture yourself being friends with the people who are interviewing you/ the people you meet around the office in those first few days. Obviously, I am not asking you to look into the crystal ball and know if you could be like super awesome best friends, but like just casually ask yourself, "could I be friends with these people when I don't work here in five years?" If the answer is no, don't take the job. I am not saying that you have to be friends with people to be successful in a work place, I am just saying it makes it a fuck-ton easier. Also, maybe not necessarily being "friends" while employeed together or by the person, because that is hard sometimes, but like after the work is done and after the dust settles, could you occasionally meet these people for dinner or just stop by when you are in the neighborhood? If not, if that little voice says no, turn it down and go somewhere else. Or don't and have that hate in you every single day until you are so miserable you just ooze negative energy and all that shit. Any who, just a little friendly advice for someone who has tried it both ways..
So, back to one of the only things that could take me away from the 15 hours or so I have in a week to spend with Nicholas. Bridget texted me and asked me if I wanted to go to the zoo with her and the kids, not only because I am so cool and awesome for company, but because I am an adult who can talk about adult things and not PawPatrol, Goldfish, and Sno-cones (well, just two of those, let's be honest, I had my Sno-cone flavor picked out before I even knew if I was for sure going). Sometimes it is nice to have adult company. I mean I guess, I don't have small children yet, but sometimes after the few hours a day that I spend being Nanny McPhee (we share the same unibrow) it is nice to come home to a grown ass man and talk about something other than Moana, and be called Cara, not Princess Aurora or Isobelle from Alana of Avalor or whoever the hell I am for the day. Seriously, Addie called me Isobelle for like the first 6 weeks of me watching them, I thought about getting my name changed on my Driver's license. It doesn't bother me, in fact, I quite like it. She obviously loves these characters, so that's cool that she wants to pretend I am one of them. But from an adult perspective, I get it, like the enjoyment of an adult conversation. I only "have" kids for about 9 hours a week, so shout out to all you parents out there, you are the real MVP.
But, Bridget asked me if I would go, and my immediate answer was, "Hell yeah! I am always DTZ (down to zoo)!" Little fact, if you are looking for a good time, I'm your girl! Not like sexually, I am pretty much a limp lamp on that end, but like I am always DTZ, DTA, DTM, DTTP, DTM or down to zoo, down to aquarium, down to movie, down to theme park, down to museum, etc. So, I guess if anyone ever needs a friend date out of desperation, hit me up!
We had a great time! Between worrying if we would end up on the news because Brantley snuck into the lion's enclosure, sticky sno-cone hugs, and looking at fantastic beasts lazing around in the summer heat, it was a really nice day. I love those little nerds. And momma nerd too :)
It's funny, how children can make your ovaries quiver with longing and then shrivel up and die for you swear you will never have kids all at the same time.
I came home to find my funny bunny all reveled in his blessed alone time. And that was pretty much it for my Sunday out where the wild things are.
Phoning in from my little bungalow on a sweetly dreary rainy Sunday night. About 3 minutes ago, I sent a real ugly Snapchat to some close friends wishing them a happy Sunday. Anybody else only use the "ugly" filters on Snapchat? Is that just me? I feel like it probably is. Like I don't use Snapchat to be all model-esque. If I have you on Snapchat, it is a sure sign that I trust you with the sensitive material aka pictures of me with 8 chins vs the normal 2 and a half.
It is funny really, I have like 206 Snapchat names because I only tend to Snap when I am out with friends and they are doing it. I will use it for like a night and then not get back on for weeks, thus resulting in forgetting my login information. A few weeks ago, I made yet another account whilst out with Destiny, Cassie, and the menfolk who we have chosen to be our life partners (drink getters, foot rubbers, back scratchers, pizza orderers, etc). Nick has been working nights (and days) so my boredom level at night sometimes is through the roof. Since there is not a "safe" Walmart anywhere near me to wander aimlessly around at night, I've taken to laying in bed and laughing at myself with the "ugly" Snapchat filters. I almost peed the bed last Sunday when I turned myself into a peach! Couldn't tell you why I thought it was so funny, but that one for some reason really tickled me.
Since Nick has been working seemingly endless shifts, both day and night, I tend to want to keep him to myself on the weekends. I'm stingy, so I don't fuck with my limited time with him. Of course, I get to see him more than anyone else, but that is besides the point... This weekend, I decided to leave him here at the house by himself for a little while. There are only a couple reasons that I would do that: one being that TJ Maxx is having a huge sale, two being that someone invites me to go see some animals. Sadly, TJ Maxx was not having a sale, so you can work it out for yourself that animals were what lured me out of my love shack away from my boo. I'd spent the whole day Friday and Saturday with him, up his ass wanting cuddles, so I figured I'd spare him a Sunday morning so he could be the loner introvert he truly is and go play with the Anteaters and Poison Dart Frogs instead.
Do yall remember the kids I used to keep a few years ago? My first nannying family? The family and I are still friends and see each other often. Side note: if you are looking for any kind of job or are thinking of interviewing somewhere, do yourself a favor and ask if you could picture yourself being friends with the people who are interviewing you/ the people you meet around the office in those first few days. Obviously, I am not asking you to look into the crystal ball and know if you could be like super awesome best friends, but like just casually ask yourself, "could I be friends with these people when I don't work here in five years?" If the answer is no, don't take the job. I am not saying that you have to be friends with people to be successful in a work place, I am just saying it makes it a fuck-ton easier. Also, maybe not necessarily being "friends" while employeed together or by the person, because that is hard sometimes, but like after the work is done and after the dust settles, could you occasionally meet these people for dinner or just stop by when you are in the neighborhood? If not, if that little voice says no, turn it down and go somewhere else. Or don't and have that hate in you every single day until you are so miserable you just ooze negative energy and all that shit. Any who, just a little friendly advice for someone who has tried it both ways..
So, back to one of the only things that could take me away from the 15 hours or so I have in a week to spend with Nicholas. Bridget texted me and asked me if I wanted to go to the zoo with her and the kids, not only because I am so cool and awesome for company, but because I am an adult who can talk about adult things and not PawPatrol, Goldfish, and Sno-cones (well, just two of those, let's be honest, I had my Sno-cone flavor picked out before I even knew if I was for sure going). Sometimes it is nice to have adult company. I mean I guess, I don't have small children yet, but sometimes after the few hours a day that I spend being Nanny McPhee (we share the same unibrow) it is nice to come home to a grown ass man and talk about something other than Moana, and be called Cara, not Princess Aurora or Isobelle from Alana of Avalor or whoever the hell I am for the day. Seriously, Addie called me Isobelle for like the first 6 weeks of me watching them, I thought about getting my name changed on my Driver's license. It doesn't bother me, in fact, I quite like it. She obviously loves these characters, so that's cool that she wants to pretend I am one of them. But from an adult perspective, I get it, like the enjoyment of an adult conversation. I only "have" kids for about 9 hours a week, so shout out to all you parents out there, you are the real MVP.
But, Bridget asked me if I would go, and my immediate answer was, "Hell yeah! I am always DTZ (down to zoo)!" Little fact, if you are looking for a good time, I'm your girl! Not like sexually, I am pretty much a limp lamp on that end, but like I am always DTZ, DTA, DTM, DTTP, DTM or down to zoo, down to aquarium, down to movie, down to theme park, down to museum, etc. So, I guess if anyone ever needs a friend date out of desperation, hit me up!
We had a great time! Between worrying if we would end up on the news because Brantley snuck into the lion's enclosure, sticky sno-cone hugs, and looking at fantastic beasts lazing around in the summer heat, it was a really nice day. I love those little nerds. And momma nerd too :)
It's funny, how children can make your ovaries quiver with longing and then shrivel up and die for you swear you will never have kids all at the same time.
I came home to find my funny bunny all reveled in his blessed alone time. And that was pretty much it for my Sunday out where the wild things are.
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
As of Late
Hello all!
Wow, it has been waaaaay too long since I said that last. I have no excuses to offer up as to why, except for the last time I wrote something on here, my heart wasn't in it, and that really bothered me to the point of pretty much quitting something I thoroughly enjoyed. Looking back on the date of some of my last posts, I think I was just sort of coming out of a funk. Not an excuse for going ghost, but my mind and heart were definitely on other things.
SO, I am pretty sure where I really left off was my best friend's wedding. Two more of my dearest ones have been wed since then, I had the honor of being in both. From them I took many hilarious tales that I cannot wait to spin to y'all. Me? Am I married? Nah, not yet. But there is a boy, a Nick, locked back in our bedroom (per his choice, not like I am keeping him against his will (well, maybe just a little)) right now, so I guess you could say things are moving right along. He accompanied me to Cassie's wedding, and I think I told you of him. That was two years ago and he still hasn't left the house screaming, flailing his arms in terror, so I'm thinking he's here to stay. He's fucking phenomenal, and that is all there is to it.
Besides love, I was recently hired on at the best provider of health care in the world. No, I will not actually be providing that care, as I was unfortunately (devastatingly, depressingly, all hope is lost-ingly) not accepted into nursing school. Oh, yeah. I don't think I've told you, but after like waaaay too much time with my thumb up my ass, I decided that I want to be a Nurse Anesthetist (still have to use spell check for that one). Actually, I did not decide that, Cassie did. While she, Matt (her husband), Nick and I were walking up to Doak Campbell stadium for a football game, she casually was like, "Dude, have you ever thought of this, you should do it." And I was all like, "No, I haven't thought of that, but that's why you are around, to help me plan my life, so yeah imma do that." And the ball was set to rolling from there. Very slowly rolling, like barely moving rolling, but whatever. Baby steps, bitch. So, I will not be saving lives, but rather being a great pretender. That's right folks, your girl is going back to acting. And... HALLELUJAH, PRAISE THE LORD, BECAUSE I HAVE SO MISSED IT!!!!! I haven't really scratched my dramatic itch since high school. I tried out in Tallahassee a few times, it never amounted to anything, so I kind of gave it up. Another one of my loves thrown out because of discouragement. What a fucking shame. But I am back at it so, yay!
What I will actually be doing is working in simulation lab. Basically, I will be a pretend patient (or medical professional, coworker, family member of a patient, etc), and let the professionals "practice" on me. Not like practice surgery on me or anything crazy like that, but like scenarios that are likely to occur in the physician's/ allied health personnel's day. It could be anything from acting out active labor, sexual harassment between coworkers, relaying "bad news" to family members, etc.... IT'S LIKE GOD MADE THIS POSITION FOR ME! I AM SO FREAKING STOKED.
It's funny though, I never wanted this position. In fact, I didn't even know it existed. I had been applying to a position in their lab for around a year, it so far has amounted to no success. One night, frustrated and probably 4 glasses of wine in, I began perusing other openings. I clicked on one called "Standardized Patient" because I was like, "wtf is a standardized patient?" Fate and alcohol were guiding me towards something I didn't even know I wanted. I submitted my application, not expecting anything, and got called for an interview not long after. Still not expecting anything, I went into the interview and immediately fell in love with the people, the workplace, and idea of the position. They even made me "act" out a scenario as part of my interview! It was so much fun, I started to really really want it. I went from not really caring one way or another, to praying, hoping, and wishing it would be me they called back. Shock, surprise, they did!
The job is part time, which is cool with me. That means I still get to go hang out with my littlest homies. Yep, I still nanny. Fate happened in that one too. The lady I work for is actually someone I met while I nannied for Reagan and Brantley. She and I took the girls to the same gymnastics class. Later, she sold me her super nice West Elm sleeper sofa, and now I watch her girls. We can't seem to get rid of each other, so I guess we have to be life long friends!
Let's see, anything else? Probably, there's so much! Oh, yeah, I moved. Went from good ole Glen Saint Mary over to Riverside. For the most part, it is awesome. The other part is not having a backyard to let my two huge dogs out into, which makes all the awesomeness less awesome. When I lived in the boondocks I would just throw open the door and let them go flying down the stairs to go do their thing. It was such a freedom, to be able to walk to the door, eyes crusty as hell with sleep, completely butt ass naked, and just fling the door wide and say, "be free hounds, go do your poops." Now, I actually have to get dressed and walk them on leashes, which is a novelty to Eli, Rampage, and I. Trying to get them to shit while on the leash was hilarious for the first few days of them trying to get it. Eli still lifts his leg to drop a load, and that usually happens right up against a tree. He doesn't get that you don't actually have to lift your leg to get the job done. I long for the days when I could just let them be, without even getting dressed. I hear public nudity is frowned upon around here, though you wouldn't really know it. Living in the city has been an interesting transition. You see the wildest things. Like one night, while taking an innocent stroll with my man and pups, playing PokemonGo, we happened upon some folks casually humping each other on the beautiful stone benches of Memorial Park. That's right, totally banging on the bench. I was just trying to catch a damn Charmander, instead I was treated to some TNA. They did not appear to really give a shit. We quickly left, because obviously, what the hell was I supposed to do about that? Looking back now, I really wish I had stayed and done one of three things: 1- walked Rampage (our huge Rottweiler) over to where they were and let him lick the guy on the ass, 2- walked up, paused with a citical look on my face and comment, "wow, nice technique, I never thought of doing it like that, " or 3- running up and pushing them off the bench. Just to see the tangle of clothes and limbs go flying into the bushes and dirt would have been enough to set my silent giggles about random events up for at least the rest of the year. It would have been perfect too, because they wouldn't have been able to tell on me without telling on themselves, so I would have gotten away with my one and only criminal act (I guess that is assault).
I suppose that is enough for now. I could go on, but I am watching Family Guy for like the 8694244th time and my little weak ass eyes can't handle the computer screen glare anymore. I solemnly swear that I will not take a sabbatical like that again. Seriously, the joy I get from sitting here and putting this stuff down somewhere is insurmountable. So, stay tuned if you like. I've got a feeling it's going to be fun.
Wow, it has been waaaaay too long since I said that last. I have no excuses to offer up as to why, except for the last time I wrote something on here, my heart wasn't in it, and that really bothered me to the point of pretty much quitting something I thoroughly enjoyed. Looking back on the date of some of my last posts, I think I was just sort of coming out of a funk. Not an excuse for going ghost, but my mind and heart were definitely on other things.
SO, I am pretty sure where I really left off was my best friend's wedding. Two more of my dearest ones have been wed since then, I had the honor of being in both. From them I took many hilarious tales that I cannot wait to spin to y'all. Me? Am I married? Nah, not yet. But there is a boy, a Nick, locked back in our bedroom (per his choice, not like I am keeping him against his will (well, maybe just a little)) right now, so I guess you could say things are moving right along. He accompanied me to Cassie's wedding, and I think I told you of him. That was two years ago and he still hasn't left the house screaming, flailing his arms in terror, so I'm thinking he's here to stay. He's fucking phenomenal, and that is all there is to it.
Besides love, I was recently hired on at the best provider of health care in the world. No, I will not actually be providing that care, as I was unfortunately (devastatingly, depressingly, all hope is lost-ingly) not accepted into nursing school. Oh, yeah. I don't think I've told you, but after like waaaay too much time with my thumb up my ass, I decided that I want to be a Nurse Anesthetist (still have to use spell check for that one). Actually, I did not decide that, Cassie did. While she, Matt (her husband), Nick and I were walking up to Doak Campbell stadium for a football game, she casually was like, "Dude, have you ever thought of this, you should do it." And I was all like, "No, I haven't thought of that, but that's why you are around, to help me plan my life, so yeah imma do that." And the ball was set to rolling from there. Very slowly rolling, like barely moving rolling, but whatever. Baby steps, bitch. So, I will not be saving lives, but rather being a great pretender. That's right folks, your girl is going back to acting. And... HALLELUJAH, PRAISE THE LORD, BECAUSE I HAVE SO MISSED IT!!!!! I haven't really scratched my dramatic itch since high school. I tried out in Tallahassee a few times, it never amounted to anything, so I kind of gave it up. Another one of my loves thrown out because of discouragement. What a fucking shame. But I am back at it so, yay!
What I will actually be doing is working in simulation lab. Basically, I will be a pretend patient (or medical professional, coworker, family member of a patient, etc), and let the professionals "practice" on me. Not like practice surgery on me or anything crazy like that, but like scenarios that are likely to occur in the physician's/ allied health personnel's day. It could be anything from acting out active labor, sexual harassment between coworkers, relaying "bad news" to family members, etc.... IT'S LIKE GOD MADE THIS POSITION FOR ME! I AM SO FREAKING STOKED.
It's funny though, I never wanted this position. In fact, I didn't even know it existed. I had been applying to a position in their lab for around a year, it so far has amounted to no success. One night, frustrated and probably 4 glasses of wine in, I began perusing other openings. I clicked on one called "Standardized Patient" because I was like, "wtf is a standardized patient?" Fate and alcohol were guiding me towards something I didn't even know I wanted. I submitted my application, not expecting anything, and got called for an interview not long after. Still not expecting anything, I went into the interview and immediately fell in love with the people, the workplace, and idea of the position. They even made me "act" out a scenario as part of my interview! It was so much fun, I started to really really want it. I went from not really caring one way or another, to praying, hoping, and wishing it would be me they called back. Shock, surprise, they did!
The job is part time, which is cool with me. That means I still get to go hang out with my littlest homies. Yep, I still nanny. Fate happened in that one too. The lady I work for is actually someone I met while I nannied for Reagan and Brantley. She and I took the girls to the same gymnastics class. Later, she sold me her super nice West Elm sleeper sofa, and now I watch her girls. We can't seem to get rid of each other, so I guess we have to be life long friends!
Let's see, anything else? Probably, there's so much! Oh, yeah, I moved. Went from good ole Glen Saint Mary over to Riverside. For the most part, it is awesome. The other part is not having a backyard to let my two huge dogs out into, which makes all the awesomeness less awesome. When I lived in the boondocks I would just throw open the door and let them go flying down the stairs to go do their thing. It was such a freedom, to be able to walk to the door, eyes crusty as hell with sleep, completely butt ass naked, and just fling the door wide and say, "be free hounds, go do your poops." Now, I actually have to get dressed and walk them on leashes, which is a novelty to Eli, Rampage, and I. Trying to get them to shit while on the leash was hilarious for the first few days of them trying to get it. Eli still lifts his leg to drop a load, and that usually happens right up against a tree. He doesn't get that you don't actually have to lift your leg to get the job done. I long for the days when I could just let them be, without even getting dressed. I hear public nudity is frowned upon around here, though you wouldn't really know it. Living in the city has been an interesting transition. You see the wildest things. Like one night, while taking an innocent stroll with my man and pups, playing PokemonGo, we happened upon some folks casually humping each other on the beautiful stone benches of Memorial Park. That's right, totally banging on the bench. I was just trying to catch a damn Charmander, instead I was treated to some TNA. They did not appear to really give a shit. We quickly left, because obviously, what the hell was I supposed to do about that? Looking back now, I really wish I had stayed and done one of three things: 1- walked Rampage (our huge Rottweiler) over to where they were and let him lick the guy on the ass, 2- walked up, paused with a citical look on my face and comment, "wow, nice technique, I never thought of doing it like that, " or 3- running up and pushing them off the bench. Just to see the tangle of clothes and limbs go flying into the bushes and dirt would have been enough to set my silent giggles about random events up for at least the rest of the year. It would have been perfect too, because they wouldn't have been able to tell on me without telling on themselves, so I would have gotten away with my one and only criminal act (I guess that is assault).
I suppose that is enough for now. I could go on, but I am watching Family Guy for like the 8694244th time and my little weak ass eyes can't handle the computer screen glare anymore. I solemnly swear that I will not take a sabbatical like that again. Seriously, the joy I get from sitting here and putting this stuff down somewhere is insurmountable. So, stay tuned if you like. I've got a feeling it's going to be fun.
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