Gotta stop procrastinating ...
Honestly, the INTENT is to write every day ...
*hums innocently, looks away*
So the nephew has finally started worrying about being bipolar. After we shipped him off to the other grandparents in Massachusetts, he didn't take his medicine like he was supposed to, and flipped into a manic state with an accompanying panic attack and scared himself. *High-Five-ing the gods*
Now he's asking about lithium (which he's finally been put on ... the new doctor seems to be far more knowledgeable about bipolar than the previous ones), and bipolar disorder, and he'll be getting a nice packet from me next week in the mail!
*wiping brow* Now if the fear sticks ....
Work has been funny this past week. We had our regular "Breakfast-n-Bowling (we meet at Dennys after the night shift, have brekkers, and then go bowling if everyone still has the energy), and were talking about jobs. The other night pharmacist brought in this book, "Best Jobs for the 21st Century" which all the technicians are reading (and plotting to quit and go find one of the jobs), and the front supervisor and I were looking at it the other night. She was teasing me because I'd said plumbers made more money than anybody else, and it turned out they didn't make nearly what I'd thought ... I said, "but I always heard plumbers make a butt-load of money!"
And SHE said, "yeah, but it all falls down that huge crack hanging out their pants!"
DEAD silence at the table ... all 9 other people just stared at her for a minute. This is a woman who doesn't even say swear words in public. After she turned several shades of red, she finally shrugged and went back to her pancakes.
The pharmacist from our other 24-hr store told how she and the front cashier had been locked in by the manager two nights running, when the man said, "There are no customers, I'm going to go home and come back at 8am." He then locked the doors, leaving a cashier in charge of the store. In case you're wondering, no, that's not allowed by the company.
Then that night I got a call from the pharmacist at the 24-hr competitor down the road from my store (we shoot the breeze back and forth all the time, unlike the day shift people, who consider the competition to be enemies comparable to bin Laden). She and her manager were chasing a stinkbug around their pharmacy, both of them afraid to swat it because it stank so bad, but also afraid to pick it up and toss it outside! I'm afraid I did not show very much sympathy, as I was laughing too hard.
I got one of our "good service" brownie point thingies (it's supposed to be for service above and beyond, yada yada) too ... one of our police officers drove by the window and said his kid brought home a kitten and it turned out the officer was allergic. He wanted advice, so I gave him the run-down of medicines available and he said he didn't want to be groggy all day. So I told him how to wash the cat in the family shampoo to reduce allergens.
Where else are you gonna learn how to wash a cat, I ask you?
One thing I wanna know, is when I dream about U2, why do they have to act just like they do in real life??
If Bono would just QUIT TALKING in my dreams, so I could just enjoy a nice chat with Edge, I'd wake up ecstatic. At least this dream was different ... we were all nekkid in it. OK, get your minds back up outta the gutter, it was one of those shower room things where everybody was just walking around without clothes. We all sat down in this sauna-like room, and Bono started singing some "old song" that in the dream I had never heard before (even though I do know a hella lot of old Irish songs) and somehow Edge's guitar appeared in his lap, and for some reason I was touching his hands to feel the vibration (OK I admit to a hand fetish with the man). Then I ran one hand over his arse, telling him I wanted to see if it was as hairy as his chest (oddly, in the dream, it wasn't, though I'm sure in real life he's as hairy as a li'l teddy bear). Oh, and for those of you what are wondering the obvious ... in my dream, Edge had the larger ... instrument.
And the latest book I'm enjoying is Kim Harrison's newest witch-bounty-hunter story, A Fistful of Charms. I like the way she's invented curses tailored to each species. I especially like the pixies who use Tinkerbell as a curse. Tink's diapers, this is a good read!
*hums innocently, looks away*
So the nephew has finally started worrying about being bipolar. After we shipped him off to the other grandparents in Massachusetts, he didn't take his medicine like he was supposed to, and flipped into a manic state with an accompanying panic attack and scared himself. *High-Five-ing the gods*
Now he's asking about lithium (which he's finally been put on ... the new doctor seems to be far more knowledgeable about bipolar than the previous ones), and bipolar disorder, and he'll be getting a nice packet from me next week in the mail!
*wiping brow* Now if the fear sticks ....
Work has been funny this past week. We had our regular "Breakfast-n-Bowling (we meet at Dennys after the night shift, have brekkers, and then go bowling if everyone still has the energy), and were talking about jobs. The other night pharmacist brought in this book, "Best Jobs for the 21st Century" which all the technicians are reading (and plotting to quit and go find one of the jobs), and the front supervisor and I were looking at it the other night. She was teasing me because I'd said plumbers made more money than anybody else, and it turned out they didn't make nearly what I'd thought ... I said, "but I always heard plumbers make a butt-load of money!"
And SHE said, "yeah, but it all falls down that huge crack hanging out their pants!"
DEAD silence at the table ... all 9 other people just stared at her for a minute. This is a woman who doesn't even say swear words in public. After she turned several shades of red, she finally shrugged and went back to her pancakes.
The pharmacist from our other 24-hr store told how she and the front cashier had been locked in by the manager two nights running, when the man said, "There are no customers, I'm going to go home and come back at 8am." He then locked the doors, leaving a cashier in charge of the store. In case you're wondering, no, that's not allowed by the company.
Then that night I got a call from the pharmacist at the 24-hr competitor down the road from my store (we shoot the breeze back and forth all the time, unlike the day shift people, who consider the competition to be enemies comparable to bin Laden). She and her manager were chasing a stinkbug around their pharmacy, both of them afraid to swat it because it stank so bad, but also afraid to pick it up and toss it outside! I'm afraid I did not show very much sympathy, as I was laughing too hard.
I got one of our "good service" brownie point thingies (it's supposed to be for service above and beyond, yada yada) too ... one of our police officers drove by the window and said his kid brought home a kitten and it turned out the officer was allergic. He wanted advice, so I gave him the run-down of medicines available and he said he didn't want to be groggy all day. So I told him how to wash the cat in the family shampoo to reduce allergens.
Where else are you gonna learn how to wash a cat, I ask you?
One thing I wanna know, is when I dream about U2, why do they have to act just like they do in real life??
If Bono would just QUIT TALKING in my dreams, so I could just enjoy a nice chat with Edge, I'd wake up ecstatic. At least this dream was different ... we were all nekkid in it. OK, get your minds back up outta the gutter, it was one of those shower room things where everybody was just walking around without clothes. We all sat down in this sauna-like room, and Bono started singing some "old song" that in the dream I had never heard before (even though I do know a hella lot of old Irish songs) and somehow Edge's guitar appeared in his lap, and for some reason I was touching his hands to feel the vibration (OK I admit to a hand fetish with the man). Then I ran one hand over his arse, telling him I wanted to see if it was as hairy as his chest (oddly, in the dream, it wasn't, though I'm sure in real life he's as hairy as a li'l teddy bear). Oh, and for those of you what are wondering the obvious ... in my dream, Edge had the larger ... instrument.
And the latest book I'm enjoying is Kim Harrison's newest witch-bounty-hunter story, A Fistful of Charms. I like the way she's invented curses tailored to each species. I especially like the pixies who use Tinkerbell as a curse. Tink's diapers, this is a good read!