He'll kill me for telling this...

It's a rare event that Jason & I don't talk every night when he's not here.  Usually there's not much to report out of these conversations as it's just "normal" stuff you talk about, but there's been a couple of interesting exceptions to that rule this week.

Last night he was telling me that he & a co-worker had decided to stop a sit-down restaurant after work.  Apparently they had ordered nachos and said dish came with a bowl of cheese sauce for dipping.  Now from what Jason tells me, for some strange reason he was holding his cell phone over this bowl of "piping hot molten liquid cheese"...and drops it.  In the bowl.  With the melted cheese.  Now of course he can't wash it off, so what does he do?  He puts his cell phone in his mouth and sucks all the cheese sauce out.  Whether he actually got it all out I can't say without taking the actual phone apart...but can you imagine?

Now you all know he's something of a hypochondriac.  Since we've been dating he's had TB in his finger joint, bone cancer, bird flu, osteogenesis imperfecta, mad-cow disease, monkey pox, ovarian cysts, cat-scratch fever, West Nile disease, "the consumption", parvo, and last August he came down with a case of March Madness.  Yes, I am a long-suffering individual, but even I get a headache sometimes when he's "dying".  So the other night he says, "I've got a medical question for you," so I just grab my Taber's Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary (a fascinating read when you've got nothing better to do at work) and start randomly flipping pages while he's saying something about symptoms.  When he stops talking I say, "You've got Laurence-Moon-Biedl syndrome."  With all seriousness he says, "Oh God, what's that?" so I read off the definition--"the combination of girdle-type obesity, sexual underdevelopment, mental retardation, retinal degeneration, polydactyly, and deformity of the skull."  He says, "Cristie's always sayin' I've got an odd shaped head!"

Yes, he has his master's degree.  Why do you ask?

Late Nurse's Day present

My female doc got back today bearing gifts from a trip to Pennsylvania.  Want to know how to make a nurse happy?  Apply the following:

I have the next 3 days off to enjoy my chocolate.  And no Dr. B, the white ones are not suppositories and the thermometer is not a rectal one.  Geez, you people are sick.

Never play cards with the daughter-spawn of Lucifer.

As many of you know, whenever there's more than 2 of us in this house, eventually we'll sit down to play cards.  Our choices are many & varied.  Poker, blackjack, Magic, Pokemon, Young Jedi (not played in forever but me & Chris Hatfield used to watch the sun come up while playing that game all frickin' night!), Army of Darkness, Rage, Uno, and on & on.  Now, ordinarily we're an easy goin' fun lovin' bunch who would gladly face a firing squad for one another (romantic, ain't it?  Truth be known, we'd probably each run yelling "Shoot the other one, shoot the other one!!")  But something changes when we play cards.  We're competative by nature, but cards turn us into bigger cutthroats than Blackbeard ever dreamed of.  And we get loud.  And vulgar.  And say things that would make a sailor blush.  And then there's the fact that Cristie uses that voodoo that she do so well.  Case in point:  this past Sunday me, her & Jason were playing Phase 10.  For those not familiar, it's a rummy-type game where you have to match up certain cards in certain orders, certain "phases".  Usually all this takes forever, for as the name implies you have to make 10 phases.  But not this time.  For 5 phases in a row, Cristie had the exact cards she needed to lay down on her 1st turn.  And this was after one of us had shuffled the cards and cut them.  Severly were they cut.  And on the 6th time this happened, I got up and left the table.  Fuming.  Wanting to wreck mindless acts of destruction upon something.  And Cristie was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.  And I had to take a deep breath and dispell the red haze that had covered my sight. 

And this is not the only time this occurs.  We play Monopoly or Yahtzee and she tells the dice what she wants and they just tumble out for her desire.  She says she can't work her mojo on the lotto, but it makes me go "hmmmm".

Currently Gaming Rock Band Special Edition By MTV Games see related

Happy National Nurse's Day!

Actually, Happy Nurse's Week...but today is the actual day of celebration.  Naturally, my company didn't even send out an email to any of us, but I got a little something for all the nurses in my office, emphasis on "little" 'cause like everyone, I'm struggling with a shortage of money and a tighter budget.  But it was appreciated, especially by one behavioral nurse who commented that no one had ever given her anything on Nurse's Day. 

It's good to be the king, baby.

Meanwhile, this past weekend Chris decided to continue the torture by purchasing Rock Band.  He took guitar, Cristie grabbed the mike while I had a drumstick in each hand.  And we played.  And played.  And let me just say that Metallica's "Enter Sandman" is a bitch to play on the drums. 

The I.T. department can lick my balls.

I honestly wish  I could still update Xanga at work 'cause I would love for that dickhead who's over the I.T. department to be able to read this.  Background:  Marie & I order labs on our regular computers (the stationary ones, not the laptop that we carry for the EMR) and said computers are hooked up to a regular printer for requisitions to send to the lab (we don't run stuff in-house, we're contracted out with a big outfit in Morristown) and label printers so we can have a name & barcode on each vial.  We've been told for awhile now that the plan is to discontinue the regular computers & switch everything, including lab orders, to the labtops.  I'm fine with that.  But we've said we need everything switched over while we're there so we can make sure everything is gonna work right.  The fucktards who run I.T. came in the office last night after everyone was gone & took Marie's computer.  And did they hook up her laptop?  Hell no.  My office manager was spitting mad over this, as was I.  I had it out with the grand-high poobah fucktard Andy, who had the gall to say "I'm not gonna argue with you about your workload."  Fuck you bitch, all you do is sit behind a keyboard all day & woudn't know how to put in a real day's work if your fat ass depended on it.  Meanwhile, our whole workday was screwed over because Marie had to do extra work going to another computer to put her labs in (they tried synching her laptop with my tower to get things going but the label printer went haywire).  This on top of the events of yesterday is starting to fray my nerves.

I may lose my cherub-like demeanor.