Today was my first day at the new job. Actually, it was just the first day of orientation but nonetheless, I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn and tried to make two cups of coffee enough to leave me functional.
When I got there, I miraculously found the nursing station and asked where the orientation would be held (exactly as I was instructed) and was directed into an empty room. After about ten minutes, I went back to the nursing station and politely asked again where I should be.
"You'll just have to sit and wait for them, someone will show up."
Ten minutes later, I was still sitting alone in the training room, staring out into the hall at the nurse's station when someone walked by and said, "Crizzle? You're in the wrong room!" She laughed and I apologized profusely while she led the way to the ACTUAL training room.
After that, I spent an hour in a room with someone who was supposed to be educating us on...something or other...and the two other orientees talking about how we were all opposed to ass-kissing, eating breakfast and drinking coffee. After that, we were led to another room where we were spoken to about the importance of risk management and subjected to a story that made us all cry. Then, just when I sufficiently wanted to slit my wrists, we got a smoke break. It was completely foreign to me that this new place actually had a smoking area rather than ostracizing the smokers and sending us to the outskirts of the city on our fifteen-minute breaks.
I met a lot of super friendly people who all welcomed me to the team and didn't seem to mind at all that I wasn't wearing pantyhose. (Thank you, Cheesus.)
After the break, we were herded back into the room for a lot of informative (read: boring as hell) videos on various topics ranging from "Life in a Nursing Home" to "The Effects of Alzheimers".
During the video about life in a nursing home, I lost my shit and started crying again (awesome!) but during the Alzheimers one, I actually laughed outloud.
Let me explain. I am not a huge asshole who thinks that Alzheimers is a funny disease. I was laughing at the similarities of the symptoms of the disease and that of a drunken stupor. For instance, one of the symptoms of Alzheimer's Disease is that the patient might say inappropriate things. In the disease, this is because of some sort of synapse something or other, but seriously, think about it. Just the other night, JM got super drunk and ran over the the hot bartender neighbor's house and put a "I think you're pretty" note in his mailbox. She didn't necessarily SAY anything inappropriate but not for lack of trying. I think that if he had been home and/or she could have formed a sentence at the time, she would have said something that could be considered inappropriate. Another symptom is "undressing in public places" (this is the one that made me laugh out loud). It immediately made me think of Rad Neighbor. I might have to warn him about early-onset because he clearly likes to undress in my living room. Still another symptom is repeating ones self. This is a Spliffany move. This reminds me of the day that she said, "You wanna listen to Southern Cross" 658 times in a row without any other words uttered.
While the similarities between Alzheimer's Disease and overt drunkenness are numerous, there are also many differences.
1. Overt drunkenness is really funny to watch whereas Alzheimer's really isn't that amusing.
2. Overt drunkenness is usually remedied by sleep whereas Alzheimer's doesn't go away overnight and is not helped by a greasy cheeseburger.
3. Overt drunkenness may cause you to lose your shoes but at least you will remember what shoes are.
Showing posts with label Rad Neighbor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rad Neighbor. Show all posts
9.11.2007
9.04.2007
Pants and Middle-of-the-Night Knocking...
I would like to thank whoever it is that is coming over at 2am every night and banging on my door for my lack of sleep.
This weekend, we had company. Aly to be exact. Aly is a contributor in my first ever Pearl Jam experience and one who I immediately considered to be one of my best new friends. In the eleven years since I met her, we have shared a lot of really ridiculous experiences but have managed to only do so because of Spliff or Tory (her cousin). To this day, I really like her, but we have never become close. Spliff was her roommate during the time that she wasn't mine and Aly comes to visit every once in a while and sleeps, in between debauchery, on our futon.
This weekend was one of those times. This time, of course, our neighbors are no longer stuck-up morons who call the landlord when we wear heels, so...we had a good time...However...I would like to say (to whoever you are), that if you come over with hiccups at 4 am and no one answers, you should not continue to knock until you are about to fall down. You should go home. GO HOME. Poor Aly only heard the knocking the first night, but I got to hear it the second. I swear, if you are Rad Neighbor and you want to take your pants off, you shouldn't even bother coming up. I think we have established that I won't let you do that, dammit.
This weekend, we had company. Aly to be exact. Aly is a contributor in my first ever Pearl Jam experience and one who I immediately considered to be one of my best new friends. In the eleven years since I met her, we have shared a lot of really ridiculous experiences but have managed to only do so because of Spliff or Tory (her cousin). To this day, I really like her, but we have never become close. Spliff was her roommate during the time that she wasn't mine and Aly comes to visit every once in a while and sleeps, in between debauchery, on our futon.
This weekend was one of those times. This time, of course, our neighbors are no longer stuck-up morons who call the landlord when we wear heels, so...we had a good time...However...I would like to say (to whoever you are), that if you come over with hiccups at 4 am and no one answers, you should not continue to knock until you are about to fall down. You should go home. GO HOME. Poor Aly only heard the knocking the first night, but I got to hear it the second. I swear, if you are Rad Neighbor and you want to take your pants off, you shouldn't even bother coming up. I think we have established that I won't let you do that, dammit.
8.29.2007
An Open Letter to the Idiot Staying at Rad Neighbor's Apartment
Dear Idiot Staying at Rad Neighbor's Apartment:
We haven't met. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Spaceface and I own the washer and dryer that we allow Rad Neighbor to use. When Rad Neighbor uses our washer and dryer, we don't mind so much for a few reasons: a) He is super nice, b) he offered to pay for our internet, and c) he saved Spliff's LIFE! We can overlook the fact that he removes our clothes from the dryer when he wants to use it (even if there is a minor embarrassment factor because he might be doing bad things to our panties) and we don't mind that he uses our water and electricity to wash his skivvies. But you, sir (or madame), are an asshole. We DO mind when YOU remove our panties from the dryer and place them on top of the dryer in a ball because it is rude and, as I said before, we don't fucking KNOW you!
I have put together a list for you for the next time you need to use OUR washer and dryer to do your laundry:
1) Check the washer for wet items.
2) If you see wet items in the washer, check the dryer.
3) If the dryer is empty, place wet items from washer into dryer.
4) NOW, feel free to place your items into the washer.
Here is what not to do:
1) Check the washer for wet items.
2) Find that the washer is full of wet items, remove them and place them on the ground next to the washer.
3) Place your items into the washer.
4) Wait for washer to finish and come back to put your items into the dryer.
5) Find that there are items that aren't yours in the dryer, remove them and place them on top of the dryer.
6) Remove your wet items from washer and place them into newly empty dryer.
7) Place OUR now half-dry "wet" items back into washer.
I know that this may seem complicated to someone who is clearly intellectually challenged but if you could follow these suggestions, I won't have to come down there and punch you in the throat. Oh, and we would appreciate it, assface.
Thanks,
Spaceface
We haven't met. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Spaceface and I own the washer and dryer that we allow Rad Neighbor to use. When Rad Neighbor uses our washer and dryer, we don't mind so much for a few reasons: a) He is super nice, b) he offered to pay for our internet, and c) he saved Spliff's LIFE! We can overlook the fact that he removes our clothes from the dryer when he wants to use it (even if there is a minor embarrassment factor because he might be doing bad things to our panties) and we don't mind that he uses our water and electricity to wash his skivvies. But you, sir (or madame), are an asshole. We DO mind when YOU remove our panties from the dryer and place them on top of the dryer in a ball because it is rude and, as I said before, we don't fucking KNOW you!
I have put together a list for you for the next time you need to use OUR washer and dryer to do your laundry:
1) Check the washer for wet items.
2) If you see wet items in the washer, check the dryer.
3) If the dryer is empty, place wet items from washer into dryer.
4) NOW, feel free to place your items into the washer.
Here is what not to do:
1) Check the washer for wet items.
2) Find that the washer is full of wet items, remove them and place them on the ground next to the washer.
3) Place your items into the washer.
4) Wait for washer to finish and come back to put your items into the dryer.
5) Find that there are items that aren't yours in the dryer, remove them and place them on top of the dryer.
6) Remove your wet items from washer and place them into newly empty dryer.
7) Place OUR now half-dry "wet" items back into washer.
I know that this may seem complicated to someone who is clearly intellectually challenged but if you could follow these suggestions, I won't have to come down there and punch you in the throat. Oh, and we would appreciate it, assface.
Thanks,
Spaceface
7.12.2007
Things of note...and ADD
Over the past two weeks, tons has happened. The problem is, every time I sit down to blog about it, a thousand other things run through my head. You know, I wonder if the mail is here yet and if my school books have arrived. I wonder if I have finished all of my homework or if I remembered to get everything I needed from the store. My ADD is in full-swing and I can barely complete a thought these days.
I haven’t been sleeping very well and am having weird dreams about gang fights and Vincent D’onofrio. (Which may well be a symptom of watching too much Law & Order, but you can’t stop me.) So, here are some of the things that I have neglected to tell you, internet.
Spliff fell down the stairs outside of our apartment, landing her unconscious at the bottom until Rad Neighbor found her and called 911. This meant a really long night in the Emergency Room for both of us and a whole lot of hysterics. She is okay, aside from a chipped tooth, a shiner, and a bunch of bruises. I hate the emergency room. It smells like pee.
Eppernepperhart came in to town for the 4th of July, which was nice. I got to hang out with him more than I have in ages. We had a great time despite a little drama leaving me want to hit Magic Mike with my car. All is well now.
I started school again and am currently working on getting back into the swing of research papers and homework. It isn’t fun, but with any luck I will be out soon enough and I can finally start doing something that I like instead of working in hell.
I am slowly getting all of my music onto my iPod and realizing that 80gb is a whole lot of freaking space. I need more music. Damn.
Tonight, JM and I are going to see 311. I am only kind of excited about this because a) I have seen them before and b) I don’t really like them all that much anymore…but I am pretty stoked about going to a show. It has been a while.
So, that’s about it for now. I have to go and prepare to drink lots of overpriced beer with a whole lot of people who like 311.
6.13.2007
Ankles and Basketball
Spliff likes basketball. And I really don’t like any sports. Not unless I am watching them in person. I really feel that you can’t get the true feel of the sport unless you are watching it from the court itself. Tonight, because there wasn’t anything else on, Spliff wanted to watch the NBA playoffs. I was not interested. So, knowing that TRN likes basketball, (because last week, we had to interrupt a game so that he could come upstairs and kill a bug), Spliff decided to go down and watch the playoffs with him. I started writing and drinking wine and by the time she came back up for the third time, I thought Mr. James was hot enough to watch. (I actually always think he is super hot, but I thought that I would join TRN and tell him how fat his ankles are.) And, as it turns out, TRN does NOT remember trying to take his pants off in my living room but does remember coming up to offer me champagne. So…ummm…I don’t really know what that means other than, he was really effing drunk. He doesn’t remember when I tucked him into his bed. He doesn’t remember that his knee was bleeding and he wouldn’t let me put a bandaid on it so as not to destroy his down comforter…but he does remember Sunday when I came over to ask him to come out with us to restart the beer challenge. He was…well…hungover and uninterested, but when Spliff informed him that he had interrogated me about his ankles, he just laughed. By the time I came down, he was ready to know what else he had done. And I was also ready to know what else he had done. I have never seen someone that drunk before. Not even me, which is a stretch. Why, just the other day, I cussed out the owner of a restaurant because he tried to make me do a shot of Rumplemintz…(and I don’t know how to spell it because it is disgusting and I only learn to spell things that I like to drink.)
Anyway, TRN doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember that this is the second time that I have had to put him to bed and he doesn’t remember trying to trap me in his room. And my theory about it is, when he is drunk, I am hot and he wants to steal me away and keep me in his room. I wish Taye Diggs felt the same way. Dammit. Now, if you will excuse me, “Brown Sugar” is on VH1.
6.11.2007
Pants or the Lack Thereof
Saturday night, after coming home from seeing a show with OE and Spliff and watching The State for the 7 millionth time, OE and I were falling asleep on the couch and I couldn't take any more. I had just put on pajamas when I heard the steady, drunken knock of The Rad Neighbor. We haven't seen too much of him since the last time he came over after drinking massive amounts of beer at the Blues Fest, so I was sort of shocked when the knocking started. I opened the door to find TRN and his friend standing at my door with a bottle of champagne. Evidently, drinking champagne at 4 in the morning and then knocking on your neighbor's door is totally standard. Before I even had a chance to speak, Friend of TRN was shoving the bottle in my face and telling me to take a swig. Naturally, I did.
I invited them inside, even though all I really wanted to do was go to sleep. But instead of venturing inside, they opted to stand in the doorway until Friend of TRN decided to go back downstairs. TRN maintained his drunken stance at the top of our steps and we played a little game that I like to call, "If I put my hand RIGHT here on the door frame and you close the door, will you shut my fingers in the door?" This game is evidently really popular with drunken Naval officers and proves to be the most annoying thing you could ever do for 20 minutes while standing in my doorway at 4 in the morning.
At this point, I figured, if I couldn't beat him, I would join him. I finally coerced him to come inside so that I could get a beer and I managed to convince him to sit down. Once he did, we had a conversation that went something like this:
TRN: You said my ankles are fat.
Me: No I didn't.
TRN: Yes you did. Look at them. They are fat.
Me: Ummm...No they aren't.
TRN: Hold on, I'm gonna take my pants off.
Me: What? No. I can see your ankles. You are wearing shorts.
TRN: No. I have to take my pants off.
It took a while to get him to understand that, under no circumstances was it necessary for him to remove his pants in my living room to show me his ankles (that were already completely visible). So he didn't. I was relieved and after 45 minutes of talking with him, I just wanted to go to bed. I grabbed TRN by the hand and dragged him back down to his apartment to "find his friend" (which was really just code so that I could get him out of the apartment). We found Friend of TRN passed out, face-down in the guest bedroom and I walked TRN to his room and told him to go to bed. Of course, he was argumentative and belligerent but I stood firm as I locked his front door when I left. When I came back, OE and Spliff were both sleeping and I was far behind. And I feel like I haven't slept since.
I can't help but wonder if TRN remembers trying to take his pants off in my living room.
I invited them inside, even though all I really wanted to do was go to sleep. But instead of venturing inside, they opted to stand in the doorway until Friend of TRN decided to go back downstairs. TRN maintained his drunken stance at the top of our steps and we played a little game that I like to call, "If I put my hand RIGHT here on the door frame and you close the door, will you shut my fingers in the door?" This game is evidently really popular with drunken Naval officers and proves to be the most annoying thing you could ever do for 20 minutes while standing in my doorway at 4 in the morning.
At this point, I figured, if I couldn't beat him, I would join him. I finally coerced him to come inside so that I could get a beer and I managed to convince him to sit down. Once he did, we had a conversation that went something like this:
TRN: You said my ankles are fat.
Me: No I didn't.
TRN: Yes you did. Look at them. They are fat.
Me: Ummm...No they aren't.
TRN: Hold on, I'm gonna take my pants off.
Me: What? No. I can see your ankles. You are wearing shorts.
TRN: No. I have to take my pants off.
It took a while to get him to understand that, under no circumstances was it necessary for him to remove his pants in my living room to show me his ankles (that were already completely visible). So he didn't. I was relieved and after 45 minutes of talking with him, I just wanted to go to bed. I grabbed TRN by the hand and dragged him back down to his apartment to "find his friend" (which was really just code so that I could get him out of the apartment). We found Friend of TRN passed out, face-down in the guest bedroom and I walked TRN to his room and told him to go to bed. Of course, he was argumentative and belligerent but I stood firm as I locked his front door when I left. When I came back, OE and Spliff were both sleeping and I was far behind. And I feel like I haven't slept since.
I can't help but wonder if TRN remembers trying to take his pants off in my living room.
4.09.2007
The Buzz
I got a sort of desperate call from D on Friday night.
D: Can I tell you something?
Me: Uh oh, what's up?
D: I bought Ad Rock a present and I am kind of regretting it.
Me: What the heck did you buy?
Me: Guitar Hero. He won't stop. It is like a concert in there and now I can't play Super Mario World ever again.
It was very sad and had I not been prepping to watch "Intervention" (which I may need an intervention from because I am starting to become a little dependent), I would have had to rush right over and…well…intervene. (Do you sense a pattern here?) Needless to say, I stayed home, drank wine and watched the coke addicted dude get high and kicked out of rehab 13 times. What can I say? It makes me feel like a super well-adjusted individual. Is that so bad?
It is, however, a good thing that they only show two episodes in a row or I might never have left the house this weekend and I would have missed out on "Springing in the Blues" which was, while not the same as in years past when Ricky Retardo and Jess lived just a few blocks away, a pretty good time. I did miss the routine of the festival days with Ricky, but I think I might be getting too old for that level of debauchery. You know…but not as old as Ricky. (Yeah, Ricky, you are effing OLD!) This year, we only stayed for a few hours and slipped in and out of a nearby bar to avoid portapotties (read: to do shots and see the cute bartender). We even ran into Rad Neighbor. It is so weird to have a neighbor who leaves the house and actually speaks to people. It is also weird that he hears that we are at home, grabs beers and walks up to hang out…Now I feel like I am home. Finally.
In other news, I might be taking another huge career step (or plunge off of the career bridge, if you will). After the utterly ascinine situation in the new job (despite how much I like the work), I am starting to feel that I just need to start over. I need to stop worrying about being with the same company for 8 million years and selling my soul to a company that doesn't appreciate me. I don't necessarily blame the company, I blame the people in charge. And who knows, maybe it will be a blessing for me to get out of here and see what the rest of the world has to offer. I have to say, though, I will really miss the jeans and flip flops. But hey, if I do decide to leave, I guess I can wear pajamas all day, after all. I am wondering if I can afford to get the heck out of here, get student loans and manage a part time job until I graduate. But this is all too deep for a Monday morning. If you'll excuse me, I am going to take my lunch break and chop my hair off now. (After a breakup, you always chop your hair off…it's, like, a rule.)
D: Can I tell you something?
Me: Uh oh, what's up?
D: I bought Ad Rock a present and I am kind of regretting it.
Me: What the heck did you buy?
Me: Guitar Hero. He won't stop. It is like a concert in there and now I can't play Super Mario World ever again.
It was very sad and had I not been prepping to watch "Intervention" (which I may need an intervention from because I am starting to become a little dependent), I would have had to rush right over and…well…intervene. (Do you sense a pattern here?) Needless to say, I stayed home, drank wine and watched the coke addicted dude get high and kicked out of rehab 13 times. What can I say? It makes me feel like a super well-adjusted individual. Is that so bad?
It is, however, a good thing that they only show two episodes in a row or I might never have left the house this weekend and I would have missed out on "Springing in the Blues" which was, while not the same as in years past when Ricky Retardo and Jess lived just a few blocks away, a pretty good time. I did miss the routine of the festival days with Ricky, but I think I might be getting too old for that level of debauchery. You know…but not as old as Ricky. (Yeah, Ricky, you are effing OLD!) This year, we only stayed for a few hours and slipped in and out of a nearby bar to avoid portapotties (read: to do shots and see the cute bartender). We even ran into Rad Neighbor. It is so weird to have a neighbor who leaves the house and actually speaks to people. It is also weird that he hears that we are at home, grabs beers and walks up to hang out…Now I feel like I am home. Finally.
In other news, I might be taking another huge career step (or plunge off of the career bridge, if you will). After the utterly ascinine situation in the new job (despite how much I like the work), I am starting to feel that I just need to start over. I need to stop worrying about being with the same company for 8 million years and selling my soul to a company that doesn't appreciate me. I don't necessarily blame the company, I blame the people in charge. And who knows, maybe it will be a blessing for me to get out of here and see what the rest of the world has to offer. I have to say, though, I will really miss the jeans and flip flops. But hey, if I do decide to leave, I guess I can wear pajamas all day, after all. I am wondering if I can afford to get the heck out of here, get student loans and manage a part time job until I graduate. But this is all too deep for a Monday morning. If you'll excuse me, I am going to take my lunch break and chop my hair off now. (After a breakup, you always chop your hair off…it's, like, a rule.)
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