Was that a MySpace questionnaire?
They did that in Colorado. Now they’re realizing what the hell they did.
Man, I hope your wife doesn’t read this site. Otherwise she’s going to kick your arse all the way back to hospital.
F- right here, jp. WTF, man. Are you deliberately making it difficult to like you? I think you should thank black baby Jesus you have a wife sticking it out with you. No offense Big Dawg, but you ain’t no fucking picnic yourself.
My in-laws made a surprise visit to come see us. Due to work, family, etc. it is tough for them to make the trip from Utah to New Hampshire to visit very often. Thankfully, I have great in-laws who I really do love, so having them here for a week is pleasure, not pain.
Work has been fine, ocassional excitement with patients crumping (had one code briefly this morning, sent him to the ICU, is doing better now), but the biggest excitement is I get to go over to the VA tomorrow for my rotation there. As a resident, the VA rules. Period. The patients are the best you will ever have. I look forward to it.
I am getting married in two weeks and I have fucked up the two jobs that I have been given as part of the wedding preparation.
Job 1: Get a bagpiper.
Which I did, but then forgot to send the deposit check. I’m sending the deposit tomorrow (really!) so I don’t think it’s a big deal (the piper said, “I’m a high school principle and I do this for beer money.” He seemed like my kind of guy.) My bride to be wanted a playlist, to which I replied, “It’s a fucking bagpipe! Everything sounds the same.”
Job 2: Get a DJ.
Which I totally didn’t do, then she lined some guy up, and I “interviewed” him (aka, sent an email with some questions), and now he’s hired. But I have to go on his website and pick all the songs he’s going to play for the reception.
And I actually had a third job, which was to arrange for care of my cat during the honeymoon, but I took her to the vet, and it turned out she had a tumor cutting off her digestive track (which was why she was losing weight), so after two days of giving her whatever she wanted (unlimited cat treats!) the vet put her down. So I didn’t have to do my third wedding job anymore.
I miss my cat, Hazel. She was 21 and I’ve had her for the past 13 years. We’ve been through a lot together.
I got a letter from the Lost & Found bureau that they had just found my driving license four years after I lost them, in a place I’ve never been. I was quite happy to get them back, since I never renewed them, but wonder if someone hid them so well they weren’t found for four years or if someone carried them around, pretending to be me.
Midterms are coming up. Oh, and a forklift ran over my foot. Forklifts are heavy.
Thankfully, nothing broken.
It could have been much worse:
My right lung spontaneously collapsed.
Welcome to the neighborhood.
Erik J.
To add to the conversation…nothing really exciting going on, however, I had an attractive young broad come up to me at work with a 3-inch screw and tell me “I need something like this, only 2 inches longer.” “…oh really?”
In addition, later that day. Another girl comes up and has a small plastic cap in her hand. “I need something like this, something to cover nuts.” I’m sure the excitement will come NEXT week when I go up to skank-ass NJ for a wedding.
I visited a couple of friends and learned that they had broken up a few weeks prior. I didn’t intend to at the time, but looking back it seems clear that I spent much of the evening hitting on the ex-GF and making an ass of myself.
Otherwise, things are okay. I may have finally fixed my randomly-crashing PC, but I’ll wait and see.
I “discovered” YTMND and have slowly been driving myself nuts.
She told another girl who is also married and was across the hall from me in the hospital (she has CF worse than me), that she hated her and was jealous of the fact we were friends. She also said she didn’t trust any of the female support staff and didn’t want her to talk to me at all. Nothing like seeing your best friend sobbing and your nurse too (who Jen also told - I don’t trust you nurses). Ughh - was terrible. and since I was in isolation for a resistant organism I was stuck in my room with just the door open. She didn’t visit for the last 3 days I was in to “clean”. The house was a mess. sigh it’s been some month. She also told my Mom she was jealous of how I talked to her on the phone.
Yes, my wife needs counseling and she used to get it weekly before up until a year ago. But after my wife freaked out about the possibility of me passing, the psychologist said she would not see her until my wife got into a CF or terminal spuse support group. However, my wife refuses to go to a support group because she’s afraid of those people carrying germs. No matter how much reasoning/logic you use, it still doesn’t matter. Manic depression + OCD + “sick husband” is not always smooth sailing.
-note- I hadn’t even re-read my orignal post since I was too embarassed to see what I might have written. If I had, I would have deleted it.
This is the only part of this post I read, Bro. I’m really not interested in your rationales for shitting on your wife on this board. And really…WTF with you posting and then being horrified to see what you’d pounded and then calling me on it?
Some rosemary or a dill sauce, a light sautee, and you’re done.
Fuck off, Guido.
When it gets bad, some people push their personal lives on anonymous strangers, hoping that they will turn a sympathetic ear and maybe even offer some helpful advice. This is rarely successful, because seriously, nobody cares. Me, I start a flamewar.
As for interesting, well, two things, both involving killing insects.
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I boiled up some porcini ravioli to serve with a lovely beurre noire with lemon and capers. When I poured the boiling water down the kitchen sink drain, I heard a sound not entirely unlike hundreds of little people screaming as they were burned alive, and dozens of dead waterbugs gushed up out of the drain. I lost my appetite, and called the super.
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While taking a lovely fudgy shit, I noticed a roach scuttling around in my bathtub. I sprayed him with “laundry fresh smell” lysol, which seemed to freeze him in his steps in disbelief, like, “I would survive a nuclear war and you think lysol will do me in, jerkoff?”. Then I took a lighter and lit that fucker up, because lysol is rather a lot more flammable than you could possibly imagine having not seen it, and apparantly I sprayed more lysol than I thought I had because wooooosh, and the flames had to be 4 feet high. The roach staggered along a few steps and then I think it screamed a little bit too, just a little “yeeeeeeeeeee” sound, and then it fucking EXPLODED, I shit you not, it was so goddamn sweet. My cleaning woman, a friendly venerable venezualan named Betty, was scheduled to come the next morning, so I put a little note saying “Please thoroughly clean the tub and behind the toilet (I got some poop back there, I forgot to mention, this parenthesed part isn’t in the note though, it’s just a side explanation so you know why I said it), thanks!” with a smiley-face and my name, and taped it to the scrubbling bubbles, which I placed prominently on my dresser so she would be sure to see it.
??? just rationalizing. I wasn’t trying to be rude to you. I just keep digging a bigger hole don’t I?
stusser, are those 2 stories true?
They triiiied to kill him with a forklift!