today's weather in the burque: 67 and sunny

Ursy and Boots had a playdate this afternoon at the dog park.

uno mas

On a pizza pan. On Ash Wednesday. They must have bought the last toaster insert. Or...

the day of arousal

Happy birthday, Katie. I hope you had a fantastic day.

Quote of the night: "But I won't use that to wash my dog." ---Katie, after I told her I picked out the detachable shower head specifically for the pulsating massager.

saturday night's all right for fighting part 2

ghost blog #2...

Not long after Jilly and I began dating in 1989, we discovered an amazing fact. We had both chosen "Elton John's Greatest Hits" as our first, bonafide album purchase when we were kids. It was a cool, cosmic thing between us.

Flash forward to August, 1997. We're in Sutter Memorial Hospital, awaiting the birth of the twins. When it became evident that a c-section was necessary we headed to the OR. Jill went in to get prepped and I stayed outside in my gown, slippers and hairnet, waiting to go in to meet the Littles.

In the OR, we were looking for anything to make this experience more pleasant and calm. The anesthesiologist (who was hilarious) offered a choice of music to play, and one of the CDs he had was..."Elton John's Greatest Hits"! We could not believe it.

It was perfect. One of the songs that played was "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting", quite appropriate since it was, in fact, a Saturday night, and Zack was literally kicking his way out of the womb (hence the need for the c-section). We have the ultrasound picture of his foot sticking out to prove it.

Now the circular cliche is complete.

oops...she did it again

Everywhere you go these days...work, school, the lunch room, the bathroom, the coffee shop...everyone is talking about Britney Spears. Does anyone really give a fuck about what Britney does, or are we just so bored or in denial or trying to be distracted from our own pathetic lives that we need to focus on some dumbass who can't sing but who is pretty and has made millions? So the girl is 25, gets an assload of money, is newly single, and wants to party. OH MY GOD. Kissing girls (like even the straightest girl wouldn't kiss Madonna if she had a chance), shaving her head, (gasp!) getting tattoos?? She must either be on drugs or heading for the psych ward. Like everyone else isn't doing crazy shit that would make people's heads turn (or do 360's even) if it was all taken out of context, just like the Brit junk.

Did you happen to hear that K-Fed threatened to steal her hair to prove she's on drugs? I'd pull a Britney Shears too if exhub was gonna sneak into my bedroom in the middle of the night and cut off some curls for incriminating purposes.

There's gotta be someone out there who reads this who goes commando from time to time. True, when getting out of the car wearing a short mini skirt, one might be a tad more careful especially knowing that the paparazzi is just waiting to be the pussyrazzi, but come on. Some people actually just don't wear underwear. It's a choice. Big deal.

And if someone thinks they should commit a girl for getting a tattoo, well, lock me up in prison and throw away the key for a long time...with a whole bunch of other people too, all y'all included who got inked just like me and Brit.

I don't care about Brit's faux pas. In a big global sense, I care about her kids and hope she can pull it together for them. But really, whatthefuckever. I don't care about Anna Nicole Smith's drug use, depression, weight gain/loss, gay lawyer boyfriend. I don't care if young, famous girls shave their little kitties and go out at night to show them off. I don't care about Lindsay Lohan or Nicole Richie or that stupid ass Paris Hilton who is just famous because...um...why is she famous anyway? I don't give a flying fuck if Mary Ashley Olson is in rehab again for anorexia. Eat. Come over...I'll personally cook you dinner. But get the fuck out of the news, out of the bathroom, out of the lunchroom, and out of my car radio.

I don't mean to be selfish or dominate the conversation, but let's talk about something else besides shaved va-j-j's, embalming, paternity tests, drugs, alcohol, who's fucking whom, and who's in rehab. And so we are not hypocrites who may one day burn in hell for casting stones (I'm reading the New Testament, can you tell?), let's leave Britney alone.

Quote of the day: "I've decided that babies are useless. If they were giraffes, they'd already be walking and finding their own food." ---Shenoa, on working in the Newborn ICU

i'm talking to myself

Someone comment on my blog so I know I'm not just writing to my dog.

sammy's pregnant!

So cool. Congrats. Yes, I will continue to help you pick out names. I don't understand why you don't like the ones I've suggested, but whatever.

Jill + too much coffee + 0500 = slap happy.

My secret wasn't posted on PostSecret yet again, but someone stole my theme. I guess what I did was not so original.

Anyway, Sammy says he's saving it for a book. Fine. That'll get me through the day.

Other quote of the day: "In your parlance......a baby just turned blue and his mother is in D-Fib." ---a non-medical friend, trying to convey the business of his morning by making an analogy to what might make me busy at work.

Quote of the day: "Well this is a horrible day. There goes our perfect attendance." ---Michaela, as she was throwing up (they both have the flu).

i can't believe the news today

No, I don't quote U2 songs. But still...lotsa crappy news.

I can't believe these assholes only got 2 years.

I can't believe this idiot even opens his mouth.

I can't believe this. That guy is one of the nicest people on the planet. Fucked up.

the pathophysiology paper i never wrote

2 years ago from tonight was the last Valentine's Day I spent with "someone." We went out for a nice, romantic dinner and to see "Sideways" and then everything fell apart at about 6 in the morning. We had a patho exam that day, but as soon as I went to school and saw Gwen she said, "You don't have to take the exam. Just go home and write me a 500-word essay on broken hearts instead." I took the exam and never wrote the paper. But 2 years out, I decided to actually look into it.

So there actually is a condition called stress cardiomyopathy, or "broken heart syndrome." When something horrible happens to you, your body responds by going into fight or flight (or fright or fuck). Your brain produces mass quantities of stress hormones as a defense (to help you run from the tiger). You have piles of adrenaline and other stress hormones in your system that basically stun your heart, causing weakness of the muscle, and making doctors think (erroneously) that you're having a heart attack.

Fortunately, it's reversible (is that fortunate?), which is why our broken hearts mend. And like childbirth and tattoos, it's painful; yet we choose to potentially put ourselves through the experience over and over and over...

Anyway...

Maybe Colin and I will meet some eligible singles tomorrow at the GEHM Clinic who will be our valentine. If not, I've got valentines for two 9 year-olds and a big, black dog. And for the most part, they help me remain hyperadrenaline-free.

Happy Hallmark holiday.

How many days til school's out: 69
How many days til my favorite non-Hallmark holiday, Purim: 15
How many cranes I have folded: 676
How many shots of Hemlock it would have been fun to do tonight: about 30
How many times Ursy has coughed tonight: 0
How itchy I am right now: really, really itchy
How unhappy I am about this: very

stung

Quote of the day: "Ok...I have to have this done by 7:00...because at 7, the Police reunite." ---exhub, on making dinner.

...there's a hole...in my life...

another successful RN...

Congratulations, Whitny! Now you are officially licensed to check your cat's testicles. (And anyone else's.) And hey, your cat doesn't speak English either, and you're doing just fine with him...

san mateo #2

Tax time. I'm doing my taxes. Turbo Tax is really cool. Otherwise I'd be begging some tax professional to help me. But nope, no help necessary.

However...no more child care credit, no more dependent care credit? That kinda sucks. And no, I don't have any farm or fishing taxes. No, I'm not royalty. No, I don't employ a cook, a housekeeper, or a nanny (or a butler)(or a poolboy), and no, I don't have any gambling wins to report.

No, I do not use alcohol as fuel (although I could see how sometimes a drink could get you going), yes, I got a scholarship but should that really affect my federal return? Fuck the presidential election campaign fund, just send me my tax refund so I can buy a house.

I don't get it. I don't. I make NO money and I get TONS back. Where does it come from? San Mateo, explain.

water ho

What a dumbass, the sushi server. Like she hasn't met my kids how many times? She's lucky I didn't catapult that shrimp tempura at her. No more tips from me.

Quote of the day: "I wonder if they would reverse them." ---Colin, after I told him they had the cowboy roll AND the cowgirl roll

testiclipped

Unfortunately Boots didn't get to come home
So now I HAVE to write another damn poem
He's stuck at the pound with the guy and his knife
Making sure Boots doesn't create another life

Katie is sitting at home all alone
With her dog bowls and collar, she's chewing a bone
And Boots is still inside those 4 gray walls
Waiting for someone to cut off his balls

But

Tomorrow it'll all be ok
Cuz Boots will be at home to stay

I'll now lay off the crack
and hit the sack

Goodnight
Sleep tight
Don't let the bedbugs bite

newsworthy

Finally. Fuckin A.

Now...let's see who is gay in the WNBA....

cum again

Wow...I just realized that in 74 days I'll be able to add another cum to my blog description. That is very cool.

Days left of school: 74
Poems I'm gonna write today: 0 (but that was fun last night)
How many times the 9 year-olds mentioned Boots this morning: about 12 (and I only saw them for about 5 minutes)
How many cranes I have done: 590

dog blog the 2nd

Everyone, meet Boots. Boots, this is everyone.

Boots is a pup that we found at the pound
He was the cutest canine around
Katie watched Boots cuddle with Auntie Jill
Then she tried to adopt him from a guy named Bill

Then on her arms she noticed some bumps
But come on it's not like as bad as the mumps
Like being allergic to this sweet ball of fur
Is close to the crap that's been happening to her?

So we go and pick up the twins at school
And tell them about this dog, so cool
And we went to Petco for Boots-related shopping
(The bunnies they have there actually do some hopping!)

We got him a whole bunch of really cool loot
And an engraved red heart nametag, to boot
And spelled out his name with colorful treats
And watched the ferrets that Ursy couldn't eat (only cuz they were in glass cages)

Tomorrow she gets to bring him home
Maybe she'll sit and read him this poem
And then we will go to the dog park and play
I'm certain tomorrow will be a better day

subliminal message #2

Sorry...I have things to say.

Why do sharks live in saltwater?

katie make it stop

Katie and I are sitting at opposite ends of the coffee shop instant messaging because we are both too comfy to get up and move or something. I'm writing a paper and she's shopping for puppies. Anyway, apparently they have no other music to play except Bruce Springsteen and Tracy Chapman, which they have programmed on random.

That is an outrage.

I will say that it's really funny to be instant messaging with someone and looking at them at the same time. Katie, maybe we should just leave?

Days left of school: 75
Subliminal message #1: Hope you're ok.

Quote of the day: "I mean...it's not like they're smoking cigarettes through their twats." ---Carrie, a nurse at the GEHM Clinic (where I was today), about young girls getting HPV and, subsequently, cervical cancer. I cannot deal with a 50+ year old woman saying twat without laughing. I don't know why.

animositical

Katie and I sat in my car tonight for hours and had the most bizarre, free flowing conversation about everything from birth to death and rivers and blogs and love and sex and marriage and divorce and sleeping with women and exams and puppies and kids and boredom and chocolate covered pretzels and phone sex and connections and soulmates and parents and porn and friendship. (Does that sorta sum it up?) Thank you for rescuing me from my paper hell.

So then I came home and as I was looking for the few blogs that we reminisced fondly about, I remembered that Kathryn said she loves my top 10 lists. So here are my top 10 (13?) favorite blogs. Thanks to all of you for submitting them for bloggy nominations (rolling eyes).

on bergs
on being weaned
on ghosts
on religion and celiac disease
on being gay
on diapered alligators
on bruce, the birds, and the bees
on anal beads
on what was really important to me about that florida trip and sister agnes
on enduring
on nancy
on goats
on wishes

fuck you, i'm not being nice anymore

Quote of the night: "She knows 4 languages...she just doesn't know how to say thank you in any of them." ---Kathryn

No shit. What a night.

mystery solved

sleep deprivation at its finest

Ridiculous conversation of the morning:

Sammy: We're supposed to go to Labor and Delivery and get chocolate gravy.
Me: Chocolate gravy. Is that the name of a baby?

fuck you...i AM being nice

Recently lawmakers in Beijing made it illegal for sales clerks to be rude to their customers. Apparently there have been concerns about the millions of people converging upon Beijing for the 2008 Olympics due to the state of customer service in China.

When my friends and I go out for a nice, cheap Vietnamese dinner, I expect the server to be cool and friendly. When I pick out paper for my origami madness, I expect someone to point me in the direction where the packages have been relocated and not roll their eyes at me. When I go to the bank, I expect not to be snubbed by the teller and to have her send me on my way with a "have a nice day." After all, I'm giving these people my hard-earned cash, right?

So then why is it that those closer to us...friends and family, classmates, bosses, co-workers...get to be horrible? Is it that just because I walk in the front door, my daughter can take her bad day out on me knowing that I'll continue to walk through the front door? Or can a friend send off a completely rude, obnoxious email or voicemail and then retort with "lighten up, I'm just kidding" knowing that I'll still join them for coffee the next day? Can my father really not show up to my graduation and sleep ok knowing that I will still show up to his 65th birthday party this summer? Can the nurses who are "training" us really treat us like we are subhuman and still think we're gonna sign on with them when there's a nursing shortage all over the world and there are way better places to live than New Mexico?

Fuck no.

I want certain things from people. I want my kids to be polite, I want my family at my graduation, I want people to say goodbye when they're leaving and not just take off, leaving me wondering if I've done something wrong or hurtful. I want my classmates to still think I'm worthy if I fuck up an exam. And I want...no, I expect...my very closest friends to consistently just be nice. Can't everyone just act like Ursy? Is that too much to ask for?

hey colin

Do you think that 1 woman and those 6 men are here drinking tea and coffee before they make some weird pornographic film?

confessions of a shopaholic

I am at Satellite, minding my own business, working on my paper, drinking coffee, hanging with Colin. Not spending money, not wasting time...and in walks a woman with all this great jewelry for sale. Bitch.

Now I am $21 poorer, but I have 3 cool pairs of earrings. One pair I picked out, she says, are jaspers. Whatever the fuck that means.

Now I am also $21 smarter.

I shudder to think of what my life is going to be like when I have a real job and money again.