The kind of girl you don’t take home to Mother.
I’m sorry I just disappeared on you guys.
The past month or so has been really busy for me on many levels. The fitness thing is going well; I’m down about 18 pounds and feeling great. I’ve also been exploring various employment options, none of which have panned out. Then, there’s some dumb personal stuff I won’t go into, except that it’s dumb and I’m exhausted.
Anyway.
I’m back and will return to posting tomorrow, I swear.
Holla.
As a friend of mine said, this is kind of like working for the local newspaper and receiving a call from the New York Times. You just don’t turn that down. I get it, and I honestly wish the guy well. I just don’t understand why he’s leaving all this destruction in his wake.
Anyway, it’s just basketball, right? We’ll be just fine… maybe.
.
.
.
Oh, who am I kidding? We’re screwed.
I just rocked the faces off an entire bar full of people with my soulful rendition of Skid Row’s “18 And Life.” I LOVE pretending to be a rock star.
As an aside, my speaking voice has been reduced to a whisper.
That is all.
::hack, cough::
I don’t geek out over television shows, with the exceptions of The Wire and The Office. So, you can probably imagine my excitment when I learned that Idris Elba — Stringer Bell from The Wire — is apparently Michael Scott’s new boss on tonight’s episode of The Office.
When you walk through the garden, you betta watch yo'... paper products.
The Office has already had one Wire alum in Amy Ryan, who played Beadie Russell on The Wire and Holly from HR (whose fictional last name escapes me) on The Office. This, though… I mean… it’s Stringer-motherfuckin’-Bell, bitches. You feel me?
The website from which I shamelessly stole the above photo has this to say:
I want to support NBC’s decision to bring another actor from “The Wire” to “The Office” (Amy Ryan played Michael’s love interest this past fall). In fact, they should bring more actors from “The Wire” onto the show. And move Dunder-Mifflin to Baltimore. And start selling drugs instead of paper. And call it “The Wire.”
InDEED.
::fangirl squee!!!::
Can someone tell me why it’s so damned difficult for people to give props to the University of Memphis basketball team? Is it because we’re in Memphis? I can’t say for certain. All I know is that on any given gameday, I’ll turn on the TV just to see what people are saying. We rarely even get a mention. The Associated Press has us at number 4 and USA Today has us at number 3. We’re doing really well again, yet nobody seems to want to acknowledge this.
From ESPN.com’s Mark Schlabach:
Memphis won its fourth consecutive Conference USA tournament final [Saturday], leaving an elusive at-large bid for a team from another league. The Tigers also helped themselves in their campaign for a No. 1 seed by routing Tulsa 64-39, their 61st in a row over a C-USA foe. It was also their 25th straight overall victory, the longest winning streak any team this decade has taken into the NCAA tournament.
So, is that it? Is it just because we’re so damned good that people get tired of talking about us?
I think I’ll go with that.
My ER is now routinely seeing more than 200 patients per day. We’re the third-smallest emergency department in the metro area, yet we now have the second-highest volume. Thus, finding the time to write has been extraordinarily difficult. That is why I’m bringing you the latest in rapid blogging technology. I call this the thirty-second blog post. Behold:
Weather’s doing stupid stuff, people are getting sick. The ones who aren’t sick want work excuses or a meal. Assaults? Through the roof. Everyone’s pissy, I’m retaining water, and the world keeps turning.
The End.
My apologies to anyone else who may have used that title; I’m pressed for time and can’t think of anything more clever.
I’m also sorry about the lack of posting as of late. We’ve been seeing nearly 200 patients a day and finding time to blog about it hasn’t been easy. I will rectify that this weekend, I SWEAR.
And… I’m off to go back to it.
After I explained to a radiology tech the superiority of Dunkin Donuts’ coffee, I discovered that today’s batch tastes just as horrid as the crap supplied by the hospital. In fact, I would go so far as to say that they’re now putting the old stuff in the DD carafe, charging DD prices and pocketing the difference, knowing full well that sheeple like me will keep coming back for more.
Lesson learned. I’m switching to water.
We received a few inches of snow last night. I woke up this morning to the sound of ice crunching beneath tires on the street below. Of course, this would be the weekend on which I have three days’ worth of outstanding charts to evaluate so that all of February’s revenue is accounted for before tomorrow morning’s meeting. Thus, I have no choice but to get out in this. My usual fifteen-minute commute to work will now take at least an hour, and rather than risk driving on iced-over bridges, I’m going to have to drive through one of the worst neighborhoods in the city to reach the hospital.
Just enough ice and snow to completely shut down a city that's not used to either. I don't even own an ice scraper, so getting this stuff off my ride will take a while.
I am packing a bag and bringing along enough food to last through tomorrow morning. This crap is supposed to ice over again tonight, so I may just stay at work. There’s a stretcher in the suite, so I’ll just grab some linens and camp out. It’ll be like student council meetings back in the day, only with more coffee and less glitter glue.
le sigh.
If he were a five-year-old rollerskater with the need for speed and being a total show-off for his punk friends, this:
No pain, no gain!
To be fair, I suppose he didn’t make me land on my wrist after he tripped me for the second week in a row. That was my decision.
Also, this is the current view from my balcony:
Looks like I'll be staying in tonight.
::fin::
