Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Happy Thanksgiblet

Or at least it will be for another 7 minutes.

So I stole this idea from monkeygirl. It's going to get me out of a bad mood, I can feel it.

What Are You Thankful For?

I'm thankful that no matter when I show up at my mom's house, she tries to feed me, and always asks "Do you have enough money for food?" Even though, so far, I always have; one of these days I won't, and she'll be there (hooray).

I'm thankful for the most wonderful boyfriend I could ever hope to have. Even if he is a little stingy with the backrubs, and I don't get to see him nearly often enough. Someday there will be enough words to tell him exactly what he means to me. Until then, I'll just have to show him.

I'm thankful that I work in a hospital, and am not a patient in one.

I'm thankful that no matter how much my coworkers may confuse, confound, and completely infuriate me, that most of them actually do show up on any given shift.

I'm thankful that at least one channel showed the actual Macy's parade, instead of Broadway crap, and that I didn't have to watch that smarmy Al Roker act "jolly" in between ridiculous lip-synched numbers.

I'm thankful that I have a roof over my head, "stuff" in my cupboards, and people who love and care for me, and people that I can love and care for. When it comes down to it, that's all that really matters anyway. Your car, your grades, your clothes, your job, they're all worthless without the love and support of family and friends.

I still want a hug, a cat to hold, and a break, but this certainly helps put things in perspective.



Do not go to work sick. Do not go to work sick. Do not go to work sick.
I should have stayed home today. I really, really should have. For pete's sake, I didn't even go to class this morning any longer than it took to hand in my lab homework. Seriously. And I NEVER miss class. Didn't even stay for psych last night.

This upper respiratory crap sucks.

Since I called out one day last week, I couldn't call in this week (when I was feeling less lousy, but thought I'd head this off with a day of rest). Well. I could, but then I'd be an asshole.

Anyway, my bullshit tolerance is nil tonight. So I have a few observations/open letters, so I can go to freakin' sleep.

1. Dear ditzy coworker. If there are 2 aides, and 18 beds, one of us is getting 1-9, the other gets 10-18. If my name is at the top of the schedule, next to bed 1, and yours is next to bed 10, is it really necessary for me to get out crayons, an etch-a-sketch, glitter, feathers, and the entire fucking Martha Graham dance troupe to explain to you that you have beds 10-18? Why would you start your vital signs at bed 7? WHY? WHYYYY?

2. Dear Sleepy freak in bed 1. It is 11:30 PM. You are barely awake. You wont' even stay awake long enough for me to walk 50 feet and get you your diet pepsi. Go ahead, ask me for another turkey sandwich. I'll go get it, but if you're asleep after the 2 minutes it takes me to go fetch it for you, I'm not waking your freak ass up. PS. I am not getting you a cheeseburger. I am not even getting ME a cheeseburger. STFU. This isn't the ritz, be glad I got you the turkey, instead of one of the fucked-up frozen fish meals, mhmkay?

3. Dear unit down the hall from us. If your patient "has to be transferred to critical care" because you can't deal with her drug-seeking-whiny-ass, you probably knew that say, before 22:00. Taking your sweet time to put in a foley cath, and waiting until the last possible nanosecond before change of shift to bring her over is not appreciated. For that? I hope the next person I take to your floor takes a giant crap on the way over, as a little gift for you.

4. Dear person who came to "help" our floor and decided to leave at 6:30 "because {she} didn't have her dinner break yet. Good for you. I didn't have one either. Mine involved slurping down my soup as I did the monitor checks, and the ditzy aide took her full half hour. Fun, huh?

5. Observation: If I weighed about 4 bills, had to breathe through a hole in my neck, and couldn't fucking walk, I bet I'd be depressed too. Then again, I probably wouldn't have made it to 4 large, either. Seriously- ankles? big around as my thigh, people. And I have big fucking thighs.

6. Observation. I say fuck a lot more when I've had a dumb night. And I have dumber nights when I don't feel well. So there.

Wednesday I am off. No classes, no work. No answering of the phone. I am going to sleep (glorious sleep) all fucking day. Me, the benadryl, and some books. helllll yeah.


An Open Letter

Dear upstairs neighbors,

I don't know if you're part clydesdale, or were simply raised in a barn, however, civilized people do not stomp across the floor on a daily basis. Every morning you begin stomping at 0500, every evening you stroll as if you're auditioning for Riverdance. Your ambulatory antics are driving me up the walls, literally.

Throw out your wooden clogs, stop wearing platform boots, and quit it with the tapdancing shoes. Believe it or not, they make warm moccasins, toasty slippers, and fabulous socks, all of which are appropriate for indoor wear, and won't make your neighbors contemplate vengeful below-the-knee amputations.

"Dude, cutting short my paltry 6 hours sleep is not the way to make friends."


In lieu of actual content

Things have been interesting around the casa de Sauce lately. G. Monkey's been going through a patch, but in a very good way for her, and that's about all I can say about that, for here. But I'm really proud of her.

I got a 92 on my last math test, which makes me giddy, and yes, it's on my fridge.

MamaSauce and I went shopping yesterday, and I got an early christmas present- a damned gorgeous, and much needed fall coat. It's pretty, and far nicer than I would have ever picked out for myself. (She's got good taste). Marshalls? Rocks it.

P started his job in Phlebotomy on Monday. He likes it, so far- though he's just shadowing right now- hasn't had the chance to poke anyone yet. He's back on his regular shift. Two days of dayshift was enough to make him insane. He? Is not cut out for early rising. (And I? Am not cut out for hearing him bitch about having to get up early.)

In the fabulous new products division, we've got Silk's Pumpkin Spice soymilk. It kicks ass seven ways from Sunday, and I'm thinking it's going to be so very, very good in a big, steaming mug of chai. (In fact, the tea's brewing right now.)

Other things that are making me giddy: Having lunch with the fabulous LJN, and catching up on work gossip.
Things I'm not giddy about? How much I miss seeing the fabulous Fiber on a regular basis. Her schedule's even worse than mine.

Also not giddy about having really nice patients die, turning over 4 of 6 beds in one shift and getting my ass kicked but good for it. Oh, and having the last new arrival of the night constantly repeating "Hurts real bad Betty" about 20 times a minute, no exaggeration. Not giddy about everybody and their uncle calling in sick every freakin' shift; working short gets OLD people.

That's about all I've got to say, and the tea's done. I'm off to read Dr. Faustus for my next English project, and edit a research paper. Hot stuff, people. Hot stuff.