Monthly Archives: July 2014

5 Things You Don’t Want to Hear at Work

1. “My name is Mr. Pig and a tractor fell on me.”

I was working the admissions desk at an emergency room when this guy came in, literally moaning. He made the above statement and then proceeded to scream and yell incoherently until a doctor came running. It was my job to get the patient’s information before they were seen, but all I could get from this guy was, “Oh oh OHHHHH God” and “Oh Sweet JESUS HELP ME” and “OHHHHHH, MY LORD!” Right up until he got a shot of the good stuff, then he hopped up out of the bed and took off running.

2. “The reason you can’t breathe is cause that cop just maced the lady down the hall.”

At that same hospital, one night a patient became rather unruly. By happy coincidence there happened to be a police officer present at the time. We were all unhappy, though, when he decided to mace her right there in an enclosed space. We were all choking and coughing and cursing the rest of the night, unruly patient included.

3. “There’s a guy bleeding out in the parking lot.”

Oddly enough, this was NOT at the hospital. I was in the back office of a convenience store working on the schedule when one of the employees informed me that a truck had pulled up right in front of the doors and the driver was bleeding. I ran out, grabbing a dish towel on my way, and yelling at the clerk to call 911. I can only attribute my next actions to adrenaline or shock, because I really can’t see myself behaving the way I behaved without freaking out or at least throwing up. But I climbed up in the truck with the old, smelly, drunk, bleeding man and pressed the towel against his abdomen, where he informed me he had shot himself. The worst part about the whole ordeal was that every time he passed out, he would wake up irate and insisting that he needed to pee. I’m still not sure if he came to the gas station for help or to use the facilities.

4. “Those aren’t my drugs — wait! Don’t just throw them away!”

At the same store I found drugs two different times. When I questioned the employees, of course they denied it, but only one of them lost their shit when I went to flush their stash. (Ha-ha, lost their shit. See what I did there?)

5. “Straighten it out, it’s not broken.”

This, unfortunately, was said to me after I tripped over a frozen turkey and fractured my elbow. I know. Who does that?

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever heard at work?


The Mean Girl Experience

We all know them. We’ve all been cut by some scathing remark. We’ve all heard women putting each other down; the slut-shaming, the jealousy, the snide comments, and the whispers. We are our own worst enemy.

It’s been my experience that men don’t judge each other as harshly, if at all.

Swimming in the hotel pool last night, my daughter had her first “Mean Girl Experience.”

Now, she’s only 5, so she didn’t really understand that she was being snubbed and she wasn’t upset. But it got me to thinking. Is the Mean Girl trait something we’re born with? Is it some kind of evolutionary left-over and we just can’t help it? Do we learn to be bitchy to one another, or is it innate?

The two little girls who were so rude to my daughter were only a little older than she is. It wasn’t a big deal; Thing 3 was being her usual gregarious self and there were eye rolls and conspiratorial looks and then the, “We GET it, OKAY?” and they swam away laughing. She was just confused, if anything, and soon found another playmate.

But I was thinking, if it had been two little boys and one of my boys, the situation would have played out differently. They probably wouldn’t have even introduced themselves; they would’ve just started playing, or they wouldn’t. There wouldn’t have been any scoffing, any eye rolling, any mean looks, or a hateful tone of voice.

Those two little girls, maybe 6 years old, snubbed my daughter openly and cruelly for no reason other than that they could. It breaks my heart that Thing 3 is going to have to learn to armor her tender little heart against such coldness. That she is going to learn to hesitate before walking up to a group of women. That she is going to second guess her clothing, her hair, her makeup, and herself, because of Mean Girls. I hope that she will keep the confidence she has and that she will not buckle or change for anyone, but being a woman myself…I know that some of that is inevitable.

I wonder why we demand respect so forthrightly from men, but fail to give it to each other?


Free Kitten

Suzanne

Suzanne

Twelve weeks old, all black, long-haired, female kitten. This kitten is perfect for people who have an aversion to window treatments or a distaste for shower curtains.

She is helpful in the kitchen, leaving no crumbs in the floor and she will even clear the table after dinner.

She is litter box trained and has regular bathroom habits; like clockwork, 5 seconds after the litter box is cleaned, she will refill it for you.

She trims plants to keep them at an acceptable and healthy height of approximately one inch above the dirt and fertilizes them frequently.

Suzanne chases bugs and other enemies and lets nothing get in the way of her goals. She is task oriented and very determined.

This kitten communicates well and often, both verbally and with use of handy retractable claws. She prefers to sleep the majority of the day so she can be on duty all night. She will let you know promptly if there is a problem needing your attention, such as an intruder (flying or crawling) or if one bite has been taken out of her food bowl.

Suzanne would be a credit to a household with children. She is a highly trained, attentive babysitter and can corral the tamest to the wildest of children, using different tactics. For more timid children, Suzanne will simply walk past them causing them to shriek in terror and run away. Mothers will know this is a highly desirable outcome. For children who are braver and/or not very intelligent, Suzanne will pretend to be a baby and will submit to stroller rides and rocking, to a point. Once she has them where she wants them, she will then leap from the baby carriage and run the children in circles until they collapse from exhaustion, trapped within the destruction they have created.

Suzanne the kitten would make a wonderful addition to any family who has adequate insurance coverage.


Shark Tears and Other Lies

Today I went back to the cardiologist, where I learned that my heart is fine (yay!) and doctors are still unfunny.

Thing 1, though, thinks that he is very funny because while we were having lunch he somehow convinced me that shark tears do not have salt in them.  I know.  I am so bad at math.  And geography.  And zoology.

shark tears

After we gorged ourselves and he mocked me about imaginary freshwater tears, we had a pretty enjoyable day with my Grandma.

Right up until this monsoon thing hit us at the grocery store.  Here were Thing 1 and I, struggling like Dorothy and Toto to hold the cart and unload it into the car, and my Grandma just kind of blows past us and into another store.  I think her shopping cart may have been pulling her at that point.  The wind was blowing so hard that there was grit in my eyes, my mouth, and even in my shoes.  A trashcan next to me blew away.  And here’s my Gram, just shopping her little heart out.  I guess if you’ve lived through a hurricane you don’t get flustered by much, but damn.

When we got home it was still pouring, so I hurried around the car to help her up the steps.  And busted my ass.  I mean, I went down so fast I don’t even know what happened but I do know it hurts like hell now.  That woman is more spry than I am and she’s damned near 80 years old.  I don’t even know what I was thinking.

Once we were at our house, I was trying to get everything put up, but as usual there were kids in my way.

Me:  Would you move please?

Thing2:  Why? Am I in your way?

Me:  YES!  I’d like to get this laundry put away before it melts.

Thing1: Hahahaha. You are insane.

 

And that reminds me of the other day.

Thing1: What do you even do around here?

I replied, “Oh, I just keep on keepin on.”

For some reason he requested that I stop talking after that.

 

Then he had the hiccups, so I, of course, said “bless you.”

T1:  Whaaa?!

me: *blank stare*

T1:  I think you just confused the hiccups out of me.

Husband:  Awesome.  We found your skill set.

 

And I can’t leave out Thing 3.  Last night she came running in from bible school, obviously excited.

Me:  What?  Did you have fun?? *smiling*

T3:  Did you know that DADDY had OTHER GIRLFRIENDS before you?????

Me:  And this is what they are teaching you at vacation bible school?

T3:  Lots of girlfriends.  *giggles*

 

Now I need to go because there is chewed up paper towel all over my bed and I don’t even know whether to blame a child or a pet.


1500 followers? Giveaway time!

I’m pressed for time folks.  The phone company is here to punish me fix some problems and they are cutting my phone line.  No internet all day!  So… I’m having a giveaway to celebrate over 1500 followers and to hopefully appease my loneliness while I’m gone. Like my facebook page and my post about the t-shirt giveaway for a chance to win.  Love you all and I will miss you so much! *wipes tear*


How Low Can You Go (Before Your Husband Hires a Maid)

 

Pretty fucking low, it seems.

Before I had my third child I was somewhat anal took housecleaning very seriously. After Thing 3 was born and I went back to working fulltime, I realized that either I was going to have to lower my standards or I was going to go insane.

But I’m an overachiever, so I did both.

Somewhere along the line, I signed up for emails from The Organised Housewife.  Originally, I suppose I wanted to get these daily reminders to help me stay on top of shit.  Now I use them to make me laugh.  Like, ha-ha, motherfucker, no.

Everyday I get an email from them and they seem insanely helpful, if I cared anymore.  But I am so far past caring that sometimes when I read an email that says, “pick one cabinet and organize it” I just want to go and throw all the things all around until there isn’t even a cabinet.

Yes.  I believe I did mention that I’m also on the crazy train.

I’ve always been a list maker.  When my husband worked fulltime and I stayed at home with the kids, I would make lists so that he could see what all I’d accomplished that day and he would know that even though I was still in the same 3 day old pajamas he left me in, I HAD BEEN DOING STUFF.  Important stuff, like sanitizing the microwave.  I’m not even totally sure where my microwave is located at this moment.  My how things have changed.

Anyway, I still make lists, but instead of long lists of things I want to accomplish in a day, I make lists of things I’ve already done. Here are some sample lists from my ever-present notebook:

1. Get out of bed.

2. Write.

3. Eat.

4. Feed cats.

5. Read internet.

6. Maybe do some laundry. Just wash.

7. Maybe dry the laundry you might’ve washed.

8. Throw clean laundry in a pile.

Notice the list doesn’t say “feed children.” Because even I remember that without writing it down.  Because they constantly ask for food.  All day, every day.

Here’s one titled “Things I am Currently Not Fucking Up”

1. Taking me time.

2. Writing.

3. Kids.

4. Marriage.

another list, titled “Things I am Currently Fucking Up”

1. Everything else.

I’ve been doing really good at writing things on my list that are easy, so I can look at my list at the end of the day and know that I’ve been productive.  It’s really easy to be productive when you use this system.  Shit, I may as well start my own email reminder.

“Good morning, fellow lazy asses. Today’s chore is to add a banana to your ice cream. Yes, I said a goddamned banana split. We CAN DO THIS!”

Or

“Good morning, sweethearts. Today we’re all going to take a moment to remember how awesome we are.  This moment will last approximately 2 hours and is otherwise known as a nap. Enjoy.”

I could really get into this.  I’m like a damned guru.  I will teach you ALL THE THINGS!

So, are you a list-maker? Is your house spotless or spotty? Would you call yourself organized?  Does it bother you that organized is spelled with a Z and an S within this post? 

 

 

 


So, I Peed On Myself Yesterday.

Yesterday started out badly when I realized that my going-out yoga pants were dirty and I’d have to wear my staying-home yoga pants with the hole in them.  I was not thrilled, but I wanted to be comfortable for my stress test so I could kick its ass.

I went to take a shower and somehow my husband’s towel was hung up on the shower head. SO when I jerked open the curtain, the towel pulled the shower head, which turned towards me and sprayed me right in the damned face with scalding hot water. The words that came out of my mouth were not nice.

At the hospital, I began nervous talking and continued to talk until I could no longer breathe and talk at the same time. The nurses now know more than they ever wanted to know about me and my family, and I learned that it only takes 5 minutes of treadmill walking before I collapse.

When I got home I stopped in at my grandma’s house and I was telling the family about a semi-funny incident where my boobs were hanging out during the test and the nurse opened the door. My grandma immediately piped up with, “Don’t know why you were worried about being exposed.” Apparently some Mardi Gras pics from 11 fucking years ago somehow made their way into her possession. So that was awesome. Now my uncle, his fiancé, her daughter, my grandma, and all my cousins know exactly how much fun I had in New Orleans. Did I mention this was 11 fucking years ago?

I took my blushy self off to the house only to discover that the phone and internet were out. The phone company sent a guy out to fix the line and Thing 3 entertained herself by staring at him through the window the whole time, the little weirdo.

Then we took a nap cause I was beat. I woke up to use the bathroom, but I guess I wasn’t really awake, because while I was *ahem* going I thought I saw a spider. I drew my legs up fast and was perched on the toilet like a monkey before I even realized that I was still peeing.  Yes.  I pissed all over myself and the bathroom and I don’t even think there was a spider.

 

Please never search for "monkey on a toilet."  You're welcome.

Please never search for “monkey on a toilet.” You’re welcome.

So yesterday was pretty eventful. I don’t know the results of the test yet, but I didn’t die so I think I must’ve done pretty well. *pats self on back*


Shit My Family Says, Pt. 3

I’m going for my stress echocardiogram tomorrow and ironically enough, I’m a little stressed about it. So to cheer me up I compiled some more tidbits from my goofy, hilarious, ridiculous, favorite family.


Thing 1: It’s Wi-Five.

Thing 2: A high five over the internet!


Husband: Do you want to wear my hat?

Thing 3: No thank you, it still smells like beef.


Me: I either drop my phone or spill my coffee or drop my lighter…Jesus Christ.

Husband: You need a fanny pack. You can just wear it around here and I won’t tell anyone.

Me: *Laughing*

Husband: Are you laughing because you know I’m lying?


Me: You know I hate it when you twerk.

Thing1: This booty brings home the dough.

Thing2: I thought you said, “this booty brings home the dope.”

Me: That booty better not be bringing anything anywhere.


Thing 1, directing traffic at a small concert, texting husband:

There are pigs fighting in a cage on a trailer. What do I do?

Nevermind.

A guy came with a prod.

There’s a lady screaming animal abuse.

They are leaving.


The following is a list of things I heard Thing 2 saying while he played Minecraft with his friends. Note the difference between what I heard and what he actually said. After each of these I yelled, “HEY!  What are you talking about in there?” Or “WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” and then was informed that I am crazy and he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

What I heard:  EFF IT!

What he actually said:  EPIC!

 

What I heard:  Did you take all the weed?

What he actually said:  Did you take all the wheat?

 

What I heard:  Did you smoke it all?

What he said:  Did you smelt it all?

 

What I heard:  Someone’s been stomping on my crotch and I don’t like it.

What he said:  Someone’s been stomping on my crops and I don’t like it.

 

What I heard:  Where’s the stripper?

What he said:  Where’s the spider?

 



Rambling On: Updates and Nonsense

The kitten is still an incorrigible asshole. She is an ill-mannered pest and doesn’t care who knows it. If she didn’t have such a penchant for riding on my shoulder like some sort of furry appendage, I probably would’ve kicked her tiny ass already.

Get. It. Off.

Get. It. Off.


I had another blessed doctor’s appointment today and now they want to stick needles in my spine. I get to choose whether or not to be sedated. Are you fucking kidding me? My choice is always going to be sedation. Always.


I went to a thrift store while I was out and saw a few interesting items.

 

This gal brought back so many fond memories.

This gal brought back so many fond memories.

Guess what this next picture is and I’ll give you a cyber high five.

What Am I?

What Am I?


And finally, to demonstrate just how classy we are here in Arkansas, we apparently publish a small paper titled Arkansas Jailbirds. This is comprised solely of mugshots and charges and is quite the entertaining read. The lady I purchased mine from said that she’d sold one to a woman who claimed that all three of her children were in the same edition. The paper has features such as “Frequent Flyers” and “Wild Birds.” I’m not sure what constitutes a wild bird, but I intend to find out, as I’ll be subscribing to this publication immediately.

 

 

 


So, I found this cheeto…

You guys. I found a hobby.  Holy shit.

Have you ever heard of eBay?

OH MY GOD, RIGHT?  IT’S LIKE A WONDERLAND!

Only my five favorites for you today, because I ain’t got time to blog, I’m shopping for…

Only 2 dollars, you guys!!!

Only 2 dollars, you guys!!!

 

Surely these speak for themselves.

Surely these speak for themselves.

New in box - that's important

New in box – that’s important

 

"Made in Scotland. He has horns. He has legs. 5 inches high.” So there’s that.

“Made in Scotland. He has horns. He has legs. 5 inches high.” So there’s that.

 

Okay, first, read the description. Now, what I’m really impressed with here, premedstudent1991, is the photography. The hairbrush with hair in it adds a certain something.

Okay, first, read the description. Now, what I’m really impressed with here, premedstudent1991, is the photography. The hairbrush with hair in it adds a certain something.

Happy shopping everyone!  And don’t bid against me!


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