whoa

So it's been a while.
I'll blame it on the writers' strike.
My hubby turfed off his bike, we did a lot of stuff, lots of birthdays, holidays, moved, worked a second job, and phew...here we are.
Oh yeah...
Now I'm doing a Pampered Chef business, and teaching a cooking class.
What can I say, I don't like to be bored...
And tomorrow, I have to go to a funeral of my best friend's father. Can anyone tell me where I fan find the faucet to turn OFF the waterworks?
Thanks...
Stay tuned

Gas prices...

Here ya go...
Thou shalt not whine in the event that you CHOOSE to purchase a GAS GUZZLING SUV when gas prices are over three dollars a GALLON!
I don't want to hear bragging about how awesome the vehicle is, or what a great deal the vehicle was, or what amenities it comes with, followed by counting change to buy gas. I don't even care about the selectable warming/cooling cupholders, mega-changer cd-player, or how you can fit your two dogs, kids, and fiancee. By and large, you intentionally inflicted this gas pig on yourself. WHY? BECAUSE you wanted it. Therefore, don't complain about your gas bill after trading a compact, foreign, 40-45 mpg vehicle for an 18 mpg vehicle, and expect me not to brag about the 530 miles I just got on 11.7 gallons of gas. Read it and weep people. My car gets 45 mpg.
And it's 5 years old.
And has 115k on it.
And NO. YOU CAN'T HAVE IT.
MINE.

Clean your ears out people

Ok, so here's the latest...
An old lady calls, and asks if a weightloss center does testing forDementia, a crippling disease of the elderly.
The secretary informs the poor soul, "I'm sorry, this is a bariatric surgery, not geriatric surgery. "
No, this is true.
You can't make this up!

Mayonnaise

One would think, by the title, that "mayonnaise" is a condiment, used for salads, on burgers, in sandwiches, etc...
As defined by the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, it's an exclamation: "Mayonnaise alot of people in here..."
My story stems from the former.
To start, all of the condiments in the cafeteria are kept in the open, and not refridgerated. The mooseturd, the catspuke, the man-on-knees, all with enough preservatives to keep George Burns alive for a few more years.
My esteemed co-worker, Ditzy Twitsy, marched into our office, opens the refridgerator (it's a small dorm size refrigerator, that she used to store her orchid in. for two weeks. Upon it being opened, and a horrific, horrendous, ER Nurse-dropping odor eminated from the bowels of the refrigerator, was scoured) that is shared by our two offices, and peers thoughtfully into it, and says, "Do you guys have any mayonnaise?" (envision demanding teenager intonation)
OS: "No."
Helpful co-worker: "Maybe there is some in the cupboard (where the disposable utensils/stylish plates) are kept."
DT: "Ew, do you think it'll be any good?"

paper cuts...

*EDIT*
I should note that this is NOT me...but one of the actresses in my office. No, I don't work in Hollywood. I don't work in a film studio. Nope. A hospital. Where I'm sure there's a stash of "adhesive bandages" somewhere...
maybe we should let a raccoon loose in here.
To quote Stewie from the "Family Guy" "It's EVERYWHERE! It's in my RACCOON WOUNDS!"
Oh dear...
we have paper cuts.
Not just a "whoops, I sliced my finger"
NOoooooooooooooooooo
it's a theatrical production, and she's in line for the Grammy for most imbellishment placed on a paper cut.
and the (sharp intake of breath to make it sound really bad...)*very loudly* OHMIGOD, I have a PAPERCUT! And it's BLEEDING ALL OVER EVERYTHING!"
Keep in mind, her desk is MAYBE 4 feet from the closet
Where the "adhesive bandages" are kept.
For such a purpose...

News update

So for those of you who don't know...
My computer died
We had a fire and were kind of like, homeless for a while, and we moved all of our shtuff out, and then back.....
My computer is still not fixed, though it's in the process.
I forgot my password and sign in name....not like it was the highest thing on my priority list.
Spring sprung then got squashed by mother nature...she didn't get the memo about the calendar being APRIL and decided to send us some winter weather. Again.
So in the mean time, Suffice to say that I haven't been sent on any nefarious biddings to any far off places.

And to continue

Now that I can get to the meat and potatoes of the blog...
My Job:
I am a Trauma Registrar. No, that doesn't mean I stand by the bedside every time a trauma patient comes through the door. No, That's what the Trauma Nurse 1 and 2, Radiology Tech, ED Doc, and Trauma Surgeon do to blurt out stuff to the Recorder standing over in the corner taking mad notes on a piece of paper that is, of course, 4 copies thick.
I get the piece of paper.
Which is the bottom copy.
Which, a lot of times, are very difficult to read; for a multitude of reasons ranging from:
Poor Penmanship
Not pressing down hard enough
Foreign language (this does not include chicken scratch)
Or, forgetting to turn 'dem pesky hearin' aides.
Nothing glamourous, nothing mysterious.
Ultimately, the information about the accident and ensuing injuries that were sustained, that I extract from the patient record, gets sent to a national database where it's analyzed by highly trained professionals with math degrees to find out what percentage of what age range and what population are sustaining which injuries so they can tell other people what NOT to do so they don't get hurt. Confused?
Good.
So my boss has an office connected to mine (I have like an "anteroom" office)
Batt in the comp is dying...time to shut down...more to follow