Just Thinkin'

Kermit sings about how difficult it is being green.  Well, I got news for him.  Being beige, brown, black or yellow ain't so hot either. 

I have to wonder why the older one gets the harder it is simply to just be a person.  I thought I would have all the answers when I got to my 40s but all I have is a mountain of new questions.  It seems once I think I have answered one of them, two more pop up and I realize that I will never grasp even a tiny bit of all there is to know and learn.  There simply isn't enough time.

So I read what and when I can and I listen to people that know a hell of a lot more than I will ever know as I ignore the people who just think they do.  I take the time to try to understand the other point of view even if it makes no sense to me personally.  Occasionally I even allow myself to be swayed.  I envy the people that jump in with both feet and I pity the ones that are too frightened to take a chance. I try to find a balance of those two that I can live with.

And I wake up every day knowing that time isn't always on our side.

Do you think wearing teeth whitening strips as I sit at my desk at work is inappropriate?

When the only time you can perform personal hygiene rituals are at the office, you know that you are far far too busy.  I actually snapped at the little Korean guy giving me a pedicure on Friday evening to “stop yammering on the phone and hurry the fuck up”.  Since I don’t speak a work of Korean I am sure he was telling his coworker that I must be under a lot of stress in a caring and sympathetic way.

Or maybe not…

 Does anyone know how to say nasty ass bitch in Korean?

 I am quite accustomed to it being crazy busy at work but now it is getting completely out of hand.  On top of all the things that are going on politically including the Senates inability to repeal the Medicare SGF before they all went to Daytona Beach to tan for spring break,  I also have issues with being without a personal assistant to abuse help me. 

 It shouldn’t be my job to locate a plumber to unclog a toilet.  I don’t even want to know about the toilet let alone have to give information of the particulars of said clog over the phone.

 Just….no…

 Of course with my last two personal assistant disasters and my lack of any qualified person currently on staff, I am hesitant to rush the process.  I want to find the right person who can take my shit, not piss me off, and still manage to use the brain God gave him/her without having to ask questions regarding every detail.  Don’t get me wrong, technically my last two assistants were really perfect. 

 If I could combine them. 

 Unfortunately, I don’t think they would be willing to undergo any kind of genetic splicing and cloning for 12 bucks an hour and a free cell phone.

 So now I will remove my white strip and get on with my day.  I need to file my nails at 1 so I’d better move it.  Have a happy week kids.

One of my facebook "friends" asked me today if the baby my son was holding in a picture was my grandchild.  Umm, no, it is my niece and by the way, go fuck yourself.

Well, that just struck me in the ole ego as much as being invited to a ménage à trois and finding no one else showed up.

I find little consolation in the fact that she hasn't seen me in more than 20 years and technically my son is old enough to have fathered a little bastard.  I am not ready to be looked upon as a grandma.

I was on a high for a few weeks when the "Guess Your Age" guy at my local county fair had me 10 years younger than I am.  This after guessing the woman in front of me two years older than she actually was.  I guess she didn't get the memo that the Florida sun will give your wrinkles wrinkles.

But all that went down the drain with that one question.


Is that your grandchild?

I was actually shocked when I read that some of my kewl kids are already grandparents.  I would have never guessed it.  Libby was recently so blessed, Tammy is expecting her first and I was surprised to see Kay is old enough to have grandbabies.  If I didn't mention you and you are indeed a nana or pop pop you must really look like shit, I didn't realize you had grandkids.  Hide them and deny, that is going to be my motto too.

I have solved this ego problem by doing what any other normal person would do.  I defriended the bitch and took that damn picture of my son and my niece out of my photo album.

Excuse me, I must go now and  photo shop my new facebook profile picture.

Since it is Friday, my link of the week will be photoshop disasters.  I can't do any worse than those!

Have a great weekend kiddos.

Golden to Silver Val has provided me with a circle of friends award.  While I'd much rather have the cash, I accept this award and would like to thank all the people who got me where I am today.... 

A crazy ass bitch with a bad attitude.

I am even more grateful for this award because recently I have had nothing of interest to write about and someone including Christine as a friend is most definitely blog worthy.  I am usually the one with the restraining order taken out against me.  That being confessed, there are rules and even though I am not good at following rules in general, I will do my best to comply for Val's sake. 

I need to do this fast because I need to find Vals phone number and address to start making plans for our summer vacation.  Since I plan to call her many times a day as good friends do, I need to give her the opportunity to increase her cell plan minutes.  Oh hell, I may as well move in since that is what friends do?  Isn't it?  I don't have much experience.  I wonder if she'll allow me to use the bathroom first in the mornings.

Anyway...here we go:

First, you post about your award, advising who gave it to you and create a link back to their blog.  (check)

Then you list five things that make you happy.

I am happy:

1. When SCM is involved with a new computer game so I know he won't be bugging me all evening.
2.  When SCM cleans the entire house before I get home because he wants to play his new computer game and not get bitched at first.
3.  When I receive a nice new credit card in the mail with a huge limit.  (Of course that soon turns to dismay when the first bill comes.)
4. When I come home and the chocolate cake I hid in the back of the refrigerator the night before has not been found.
5. When my next door neighbor walks though the dog shit on the curb that she didn't pick up from her mutt the previous day.

Last, pass along this award to five bloggers who make you smile.

For this you have to look over at the Kewl Kids Table.  Everyone of those folks make me smile when I see they have updated. Although I don't always comment, I am always reading.  You all keep me going throughout the shittiest of days and I appreciate it more than you know.  So accept this friend award and post your five happy things.

I am so not in the mood to deal with the work thing today. It is barely 9:30 and I have already had a patient crying in my waiting room about how he is going to lose his house and it is our fault because we won't testify that he is total disabled in order for him to get social security


Sorry dude but it might have something to do with the video tape provided to us with you and your buddies running around a basketball court doing more twists, turns, blocks and shots than the entire Magic team has managed this season.

I have to wonder what these people are thinking? If they have a pending lawsuit against their employer for a workers compensation injury, why wouldn't they assume that catching them doing something they claim they are unable to do wouldn't be in the insurance companies best interest? I once saw a man in a wheelchair that stated, he is unable to get up without falling, leave his appointment, get out of his chair, left it into the back of his pickup truck with no difficulty, get in and speed off without a care in the world.

Dumb ass.

Unfortunately, when you deal with injuries, you are going to get a lot of players. People that will go through needless procedures and tests in hopes of making their cases stronger. People that make appointments for medical treatment and then proceed to spend 30 minutes bitching at the clinician for filling out their disability form "wrong". Those folks that provide him or her with a completed form with the "correct" answers and tell him or her to just "sign here".

The biggest problem that arises from the players are that we in the field become cynical  which makes the person really in need of help be doubted.

Of course it isn't fair or right but unfortunately, it is human nature.


Here are some stories taken from the ER that make me feel much better about what I have to deal with.  Have a nice weekend kids.

Did you even wonder who the people are that choose which television shows stay on the air and which are shit canned?

Well, those folks would include me and my dysfunctional clan.

Yes, we are a Nielsen family.  Since American Idol is still on the air, I don't think we are doing our job quite well enough.  Honestly, choosing us makes a lot of sense.  We have the bitter and bitchy mom workaholic who would rather watch paint dry than any of the shit shows currently being broadcast, the bipolar father who can't stay on one freakin' station for five minutes at a time, the son who watches slash em movies by day and porn by night and the daughter that is perpetually engrossed in Sponge Bob Square Pants 24/7 on Nickelodeon or, on the very rare occasion it isn't being shown live, Nick  on Demand.

If that is not the typical American family, I don't know what is.

Often I am tempted to put PBS on all four televisions and go to work.  Unfortunately, the system nags you to verify you are actually present every so often and I've yet to train the dogs to hit the OK button when the light starts to flash. It is on my list, however.  Somewhere between fetching a ball and not eating their own shit.

However, if you have a program that you're attached too, let me know and I'll turn it on before I do something more important, like play Mafia Wars on facebook.

Enjoy your day.

If today is the first day of the rest of my life, I think I am going to find myself a nice secluded cave in which I can curl up and die.


I would donate my body to science but the thought of all those pre med snots playing catch with my eyeballs and hide the organ with my liver freaks me out a bit. Okay, a lot.

As a peruse my calendar I see annoying court dates where I am acting as an "expert" witness. If you actually knew me, this would seem very funny to you.

The only thing I am expert on is which take out place has the best fried rice and what kind of shoes go with which bag.

Between the court appearances I have endless days of pointless meetings with vendors who want to sell me shit I can't afford, marketing firms that want me to pay them money I can't afford so I can "make more money" to afford to buy shit off the sales people and months on end of giving my dogs their heart worm medication. Can you see why the cave idea is so attractive?

Well, to be honest, I have one weekend trip planned next month. It is a jaunt to Manhattan to show a redneck friend the big city. That is going to generate a week worth of blogging material..maybe two if she wears her Confederacy flag sweatshirt.

Have a nice day kids.

How about some silly work pictures for Friday's site of the week?

No?

In that case, you're fired.

Home Remedies.

I just pulled my bottom lip away from my teeth, took a package of McDonald's salt and poured it directly onto a canker sore that has been bothering me for a couple of days.

It is no longer bothering me.

IT IS FUCKING TORTURING ME.  Sting, ouch, whaaa.

WTF was I thinking???

Oh, I know.  I was thinking that my mommy always did this to me when I had a canker sore as a kid and it seemed reasonable to put salt on an open wound at the time so hand me the shaker dudes and let's party.

As I sat back down at my desk with a hint of tears in my eyes, I decided to google whether or not this home remedy has any merit.  Now most intelligent people would have done this prior to inflicting severe pain upon themselves but I never claimed to be most people and the jury is still out on the intelligent part.

Lo and Behold!  I found this...

How Stuff Works says a home remedy for treating a canker sore is to do the following:  Combine 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and 2 ounces hydrogen peroxide. Mix and rinse your mouth with it four times daily. If the taste is too strong, or the tingle uncomfortable, dilute with 2 ounces water. You can also just rinse your mouth with lukewarm salt water. Or, if you're brave, just apply a little salt directly to your wound.

So apparently Mom was right.  OH and I am brave instead of stupid for not knowing gargling with salt diluted with water was an option.

Who else has a odd home remedy from childhood?  Did it turn out to be true or a myth?

Time To Make The Donuts

Yesterday was my 16th 29th birthday.

  Which makes me actually 45 if you've been educated by the southern USA school system.

For some strange reason, I was recalling my first clock in, clock out and get fucked in taxes job.  It was at a Dunkin Donuts across the street from my high school.  I may have blogged about this before but I am old, bitter and my memory is for shit so deal.

It was also my first experience into the world of flirtation from a male that didn't still have pimples and jerked off nightly to the Farrah poster on their bedroom wall.  (As legal adults, they could now jerk of to the current Penthouse. )

Looking back I am sure I was smokin' hot in my pink cap and smock with the smell of grease seeping out of my pores but the attention was something pretty freakin' ego building even if it was by chain smoking, coffee drinking guys with Guido accents and bad hair.

My job was a donut finisher.  A few days a week after school I would pull trays of donuts out of steel lockers and make them into boston creme or blue berry or coconut or whatever was missing in the display cases.  (Note, NEVER eat the coconut, the sugar sauce they use to make the coconut stick to the donut is disgusting.)

At 5pm the owner and his wife went home and two of us girls were in charge until the "Time to make the donuts" guy came in at midnight.  One of us worked the counter and the other one had to clean the donut finishing area.  Believe it or not, I would always choose cleanup.  I had a great system for this.  I would use a regular garden house that I would drag in the back door and spray everything down.  There were drainage holes in the floor so after 20 minutes of spraying it down I would use a floor sweeggy thingy to push all the powdered sugar and jellied goo down the holes.  It was a brilliant plan that would have never occurred me.  Fortunately, I was specifically forbidden to do it this way on my first day due to some health department rule about hot water, contamination and blah blah. 

So I got that all night duty out of the way in about a half hour and then proceeded to stand at the counter flirting with the customers and putting counter payments in my tip jar.

I can't believe they had the nerve to eventually fire me.

Oh, and that thing about cops and donuts? Totally true.  Every night several area cops would come in for donuts and coffee on the house.  Not that my employer offered that particular perk but having the cops around at night while two young girls ran a shop alone?  They could have anything they wanted as far as I was concerned. 

What was your first job kids?

Dating hints for Real Men



There are lots of ways to ruin a date. Here are a few things NOT to say on a date...



I really don't like this restaurant that much, but I wanted to use this 2-for-1 coupon before it expired.



I refuse to get cable. That's how they keep tabs on you.



I used to come here all the time with my ex.



Could you excuse me? My cat gets lonely if he doesn't hear my voice on the answering machine every hour.



I really feel that I've grown in the past few years. Used to be I wouldn't have given someone like you a second look.



It's been tough, but I've come to accept that most people I date just won't be as smart as I am.


Do you like this shirt?  My mother picked it out.



Since you look like a liberated chick, I'll let you pay.



Remind me to give you the number of my sister's plastic surgeon later.



We really need to hurry.  I need to drop you off and be at the bar.  Bambi goes on at 10.



Couldn't resist sharing a good forward.  Have a great week.