There I go again, leaving my desperate fans holding their breath waiting for another post. I've been busy, okay? It's a lot of work being a rockstar.
Seriously, what have you all been doing during this monsoon season? Not sitting inside I hope. NOT watching Real Housebitches of New Jersey or Real Houseflakes of New York City. You know you're guilty! I know I know, watching the trainwrecks is breathtaking, I swear I wouldn't watch another episode if I didn't want so desperately to see Danielle get knocked off by the Manzo Mob or Kelly get sent to the nut ward. Just watching Kelly's head spin like something out of the Exorcist when she tries to string sentences together is worth the 10,000 brain cells I just lost and the belly laugh.
But it is summertime, and this town is overflowing overnight, making for some of the best people-watching I have ever seen. It sure beats reality TV. And the nightlife is unreal. You've got the Tavern, where the flower children pay $10 for beer you've never heard of while they sway to the music blissfully unaware that that the Rainbow Party left Cook County in 1983 - where washing your hair makes you stand out and the air is heavy with the pungent odor of incense and goat cheese. It's a truly spiritual experience. Or so I was told by a woodtick seated next to me, who clearly had had a big fat spiritual experience in the alley behind the bar before he came in.
"It's such a great love, man," he said, grinning, eyes half-mast. I had to move three stools down because the contact high was that good, he was starting to make sense.
Then you have the rockstars of the Birch Terrace. Where the whiskey flows, girls dance to karaoke, punches fly (and blood flows), everyone looks sexy in Carharrts and when you sing Divinyls you earn a cult following with fan clubs as far away as the Twin Cities. The men smell like sweat and wood shavings and the women wear baseball caps.
The best part about this town is you can hang out anywhere and have a good time. If you know how. And all that means is putting your prejudice aside and smiling at someone - before you know it, you will be having a conversation with a senator, singing showtunes with a doctor and eating pulled pork sandwiches in the parking lot. Staying for one more quick one and finding yourself doing shots with a guy who totally looks like Chuck Norris.
And maybe, if you're lucky, getting up to sing with me.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
How To Make a Broken Heart
I don't believe anyone can get through life without one - and most of us carry the scars of multiple heartbreaks with us forever. It never gets easier, it is never forgotten, but in time memories mellow, hurt becomes bittersweet, our faith is restored, and we hope.
Hope. Hope the last one was the only one. Hope the next one never comes.
And we swear we would never break a heart. Until we do.
I have broken more than one. I cannot bear it. When I look into their eyes,I remember my first heartbreak as a child, an adolescent, as an adult. The physical ache, the disappointment, the mental anguish. The feeling that you want to scream but you're down to your last breath. I remember wondering *how* someone who loved me could hurt me so badly. I cried *why* a million times.
Why? That's what I wanted to know. Why me? What had I done? Why would they leave me? Why would they build me up to tear me down? Why would anyone want to break my heart? I never understood.
So why would I?
I wish I knew.
Hope. Hope the last one was the only one. Hope the next one never comes.
And we swear we would never break a heart. Until we do.
I have broken more than one. I cannot bear it. When I look into their eyes,I remember my first heartbreak as a child, an adolescent, as an adult. The physical ache, the disappointment, the mental anguish. The feeling that you want to scream but you're down to your last breath. I remember wondering *how* someone who loved me could hurt me so badly. I cried *why* a million times.
Why? That's what I wanted to know. Why me? What had I done? Why would they leave me? Why would they build me up to tear me down? Why would anyone want to break my heart? I never understood.
So why would I?
I wish I knew.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Alligator heads + cocktails, not good
It was a wild day in the ER. The only thing that was getting me through was a bag of jolly ranchers. I was excitedly breaking my molars on them toward the end of shift when my most interesting case of the day came in, and I thought yes, this one is definitely blog-worthy.
A swarthy man in overalls approached my desk and stated he needed stitches. I invited him to sit down for registration since he appeared to be in no distress and I couldn't see any blood anywhere. He had his left hand wrapped in a towel.
He was quite jovial and actually seemed pleased to be there, not our typical patient, mind you.
Me: "So what happened to your hand?"
Patient: "it's cut right down thar to the bone, gonna need some stitches I bet."
Strong Southern drawl. Interesting. This is 45 miles from the Canadian border, we don't drawl here. When I asked, he assured me it wasn't bleeding badly, so next question:
Me: "have you ever been seen here before?"
"Yep! Buncha times. (Inserts name here) y'all got me in your comp-puter there."
Hm, yes, there he was, local address. A transplant!
Me: "How did you cut your hand?"
Patient hesitates. Hm? His wife, standing behind him with a toddler on her hip, snorts with laughter.
"You don't wanna know, ma'am!" She says.
Ah, true I don't, but I have to. I'm putting his ID on his right wrist and raise my eyebrows at him. "Sir?"
He snickers like I said something funny. I've already caught the whiskey on his breath so I'm prepared for anything. Or so I thought.
"Oh alright," he says, "I'll tell you. I was cleanin' an alligator head -"
"Wait." I've heard a lot of tall tales, but not this. Not in northern Minnesota. I smell a prank, but I can't help laughing either. "Start at the beginning. What were you doing?"
Big grin. "Well, I'm out in thee geerage havin' some cocktails, you know, and I'm fixin' to clean this alligator head - "
Me: "I'm sorry. I have to get this clear. Where did you get this fresh *alligator* head?"
Patient: "I'm dead serious, ma'am, my wife was down south and brung me home a present yesterday. So I'm fixin' to clean this fresh alligator head -"
Wow. I'm still pretty sure I'm being pranked, but I'll roll with it.
"Ok, sir, what kind of knife? A filet knife?"
"Well yeah! So I'm cuttin'-"
Me: "hang on. Did the knife go through some alligator before it went through your hand?"
Patient: "yep."
Me:*sigh* "Ok. Do you know when your last tetnus shot was?"
Patient: "yes ma'am! Couple of weeks ago, when I was in here!"
A swarthy man in overalls approached my desk and stated he needed stitches. I invited him to sit down for registration since he appeared to be in no distress and I couldn't see any blood anywhere. He had his left hand wrapped in a towel.
He was quite jovial and actually seemed pleased to be there, not our typical patient, mind you.
Me: "So what happened to your hand?"
Patient: "it's cut right down thar to the bone, gonna need some stitches I bet."
Strong Southern drawl. Interesting. This is 45 miles from the Canadian border, we don't drawl here. When I asked, he assured me it wasn't bleeding badly, so next question:
Me: "have you ever been seen here before?"
"Yep! Buncha times. (Inserts name here) y'all got me in your comp-puter there."
Hm, yes, there he was, local address. A transplant!
Me: "How did you cut your hand?"
Patient hesitates. Hm? His wife, standing behind him with a toddler on her hip, snorts with laughter.
"You don't wanna know, ma'am!" She says.
Ah, true I don't, but I have to. I'm putting his ID on his right wrist and raise my eyebrows at him. "Sir?"
He snickers like I said something funny. I've already caught the whiskey on his breath so I'm prepared for anything. Or so I thought.
"Oh alright," he says, "I'll tell you. I was cleanin' an alligator head -"
"Wait." I've heard a lot of tall tales, but not this. Not in northern Minnesota. I smell a prank, but I can't help laughing either. "Start at the beginning. What were you doing?"
Big grin. "Well, I'm out in thee geerage havin' some cocktails, you know, and I'm fixin' to clean this alligator head - "
Me: "I'm sorry. I have to get this clear. Where did you get this fresh *alligator* head?"
Patient: "I'm dead serious, ma'am, my wife was down south and brung me home a present yesterday. So I'm fixin' to clean this fresh alligator head -"
Wow. I'm still pretty sure I'm being pranked, but I'll roll with it.
"Ok, sir, what kind of knife? A filet knife?"
"Well yeah! So I'm cuttin'-"
Me: "hang on. Did the knife go through some alligator before it went through your hand?"
Patient: "yep."
Me:*sigh* "Ok. Do you know when your last tetnus shot was?"
Patient: "yes ma'am! Couple of weeks ago, when I was in here!"
I couldn't bring myself to ask.
Lesson for the day: cocktails in the garage is fine, just leave the filet knives and alligator heads alone.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
I still Pink Puffy Heart love you
I know I haven't blogged in awhile. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, my faithful readers, it just means I don't care enough.
My schedule has been keeping me away - that, and I am just totally uninspired. Until last night. I got like a 2 second glimpse of a show called "Kirstie Alley's Big Life" or some such and I was AMAZED.
TOTALLY FLOORED. Not just that someone thought "I know a great idea for a show! Let's gather up some lemur-loving fatties and film them trying to get back on (Jenny) Craig'slist while they self-destruct in front of the camera and prove how bat-shit crazy D-list celebrities are",
But also because SOMEONE GAVE THEM A SHOW.
Really? Seriously, I need a show. I can give you entertainment. And you won't have to watch me stuffing my fat face either. Funny stuff happens to me all the time. Like the other day, when I wore baggy granny panties with my uniform and they fell down all day long so I was constantly hitching up my pants. It took some serious maneuvering to keep my wedgies straight while running around taking care of people. It didn't dawn on me til quittin' time that it would have been easier to just remove them. But then what if I had gotten in an accident, like our mothers always used to say?
For me it would be an ambulance accident, so probably some pretty serious shit. I could have had bilateral femur fractures and some First Responder going after my pants with the trauma shears and there would be nothing I could do about it. I always say underwear are overrated, but not when you're working, man. Anything could happen. I could squat to help a patient and my pants could split right up the crotch. It has happened. And that shit is hilarious.
You know what else is funny? Getting a full chaw of Beechnut spat at you while trying to hold down the Incredible Hulk so your partner can get a line in and an amp of D50 to bring him back to the nice, unassuming, quiet mannered diabetic man whose blood sugars got too low. It took awhile, so by the time I could do anything about it, the sweat trickling from my scalp had already mixed with the chew and ran in my eyes. My partner took me over to the sink and was carefully washing my face and commented, "you have never looked dead sexier".
Take that, Kirstie Alley.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
My schedule has been keeping me away - that, and I am just totally uninspired. Until last night. I got like a 2 second glimpse of a show called "Kirstie Alley's Big Life" or some such and I was AMAZED.
TOTALLY FLOORED. Not just that someone thought "I know a great idea for a show! Let's gather up some lemur-loving fatties and film them trying to get back on (Jenny) Craig'slist while they self-destruct in front of the camera and prove how bat-shit crazy D-list celebrities are",
But also because SOMEONE GAVE THEM A SHOW.
Really? Seriously, I need a show. I can give you entertainment. And you won't have to watch me stuffing my fat face either. Funny stuff happens to me all the time. Like the other day, when I wore baggy granny panties with my uniform and they fell down all day long so I was constantly hitching up my pants. It took some serious maneuvering to keep my wedgies straight while running around taking care of people. It didn't dawn on me til quittin' time that it would have been easier to just remove them. But then what if I had gotten in an accident, like our mothers always used to say?
For me it would be an ambulance accident, so probably some pretty serious shit. I could have had bilateral femur fractures and some First Responder going after my pants with the trauma shears and there would be nothing I could do about it. I always say underwear are overrated, but not when you're working, man. Anything could happen. I could squat to help a patient and my pants could split right up the crotch. It has happened. And that shit is hilarious.
You know what else is funny? Getting a full chaw of Beechnut spat at you while trying to hold down the Incredible Hulk so your partner can get a line in and an amp of D50 to bring him back to the nice, unassuming, quiet mannered diabetic man whose blood sugars got too low. It took awhile, so by the time I could do anything about it, the sweat trickling from my scalp had already mixed with the chew and ran in my eyes. My partner took me over to the sink and was carefully washing my face and commented, "you have never looked dead sexier".
Take that, Kirstie Alley.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Another 911 at 0 degrees
(If only my partner would stop "trying to see if the rig camera works")
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Friday, March 5, 2010
How Strong is She?
In the Summer, they struggled.
In the Fall, he was suddenly dead.
Their little girl tried to understand, her mother tried to hide her tears.
How do you reach out to someone who has lost their mate?
Can she handle it? How strong is she?
Stronger than I.
She wants to fall apart, but she can't. She holds herself together for her daughter, she goes to work, life goes on.
But one look in her eyes tells the truth. You can see the pain welling up as she speaks his name, softly, and you can hear the hurt as she recalls how he took care of them.
I can hardly bear it.
In the Winter, she carries on.
And she reaches out to help me as I lie there, too weak too stand. I ask her how she's doing, but it sounds so lame. I want to ask her more, but I don't want to make her cry.
When she leaves my hospital room, I turn to the wall and cry tears of shame. How strong is she!
In the Spring, she smiles.
She is amazing.
She takes care of her daughter like no mother I have ever seen. That little girl will grow up to be amazing, too. She takes care of her family, she takes care of us.
Who takes care of her?
She inspires me. I want to be that strong, too. I feel lucky just to know her. I want to say that, but when my tongue gets stuck, I write it here.
Keep standing tall, girl. If you fall, I've got your back.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
In the Fall, he was suddenly dead.
Their little girl tried to understand, her mother tried to hide her tears.
How do you reach out to someone who has lost their mate?
Can she handle it? How strong is she?
Stronger than I.
She wants to fall apart, but she can't. She holds herself together for her daughter, she goes to work, life goes on.
But one look in her eyes tells the truth. You can see the pain welling up as she speaks his name, softly, and you can hear the hurt as she recalls how he took care of them.
I can hardly bear it.
In the Winter, she carries on.
And she reaches out to help me as I lie there, too weak too stand. I ask her how she's doing, but it sounds so lame. I want to ask her more, but I don't want to make her cry.
When she leaves my hospital room, I turn to the wall and cry tears of shame. How strong is she!
In the Spring, she smiles.
She is amazing.
She takes care of her daughter like no mother I have ever seen. That little girl will grow up to be amazing, too. She takes care of her family, she takes care of us.
Who takes care of her?
She inspires me. I want to be that strong, too. I feel lucky just to know her. I want to say that, but when my tongue gets stuck, I write it here.
Keep standing tall, girl. If you fall, I've got your back.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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