When you're short on sleep need to go, No-Doze is your friend. When you basically run on it and sugar for a weekend... not so much.
However, it was totally worth it.
Now I just have to figure out how to put my eyes back in my head and make my body stop vibrating.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Oh God My Job Edition The Second
Not so much a complaint this time as an amusing anecdote...
It seems one of our local coke heads (puh-lease you don't grow your pinky nail on your dominant hand out just because you like the way it looks next to every other nail being trimmed short) got his tongue pierced recently.
How do I know? Because he came in last night and asked for:
"Shome Schig Schagsh, and a Shigari-yo."
He also looked like someone belted him across the mouth with a two by four so I'm guessing that it was done by one of his buddies rather than a licensed piercer.
I just hope that when and if he gets all infected he doesn't come in drooling yellow goop.
It seems one of our local coke heads (puh-lease you don't grow your pinky nail on your dominant hand out just because you like the way it looks next to every other nail being trimmed short) got his tongue pierced recently.
How do I know? Because he came in last night and asked for:
"Shome Schig Schagsh, and a Shigari-yo."
He also looked like someone belted him across the mouth with a two by four so I'm guessing that it was done by one of his buddies rather than a licensed piercer.
I just hope that when and if he gets all infected he doesn't come in drooling yellow goop.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Oh God My Job Edition The First
Because I'm sure there will be more of these.
Last night, 11:40:
Truck belonging to the traffic control company working south of town pulls up. It's ok though, I just made coffee, so I'm good.
Chick comes in, putters around a few minutes, and I hear the cappuccino machine cranking away. Ok, whatever.
Clueless Construction Chick: "Miss? The machine isn't working, it's just putting out water."
Me: "Oh hell my co worker cleaned it earlier she must have forgotten to flip the switch from rinse back to run." (Open machine, flip switch, turn to walk away, cringe as she pours the water from her cup into the drip tray.) "That doesn't have a drain, please don't pour things in there."
CCC: "It's still not working, see?"
I turn around, and she's holding the button down with no cup under it, running water into the drip tray.
Me: "Ma'am, that doesn't drain... Ma'am.... PLEASE STOP." (Because at eleven forty when I've already done 90% of my cleaning I really do not want to deal with a massive spill, thanks.)
CCC: "What?"
Me: "The only drip tray that has a drain is the soda machine. Every time you pour crap into any of the others, the clerk has to clean it."
CCC: "Well that's kind of dumb, they should all have drains."
Me: "I agree, but they don't. I'm sorry that the machine is not functioning correctly and I will put an out of order sign on it but I don't know how to fix it."
CCC: "That's ok I'll just get something else, I didn't really want cappuccino anyway."
At this point I refrained from telling her to get the hell out of my store and go terrorize the ones across the street. Barely. I also refrained from dumping the one hundred and eighty degree water from the drip tray on her head.
But it was a close thing.
I really need some fumbling adorable young high school boy to come in and buy condoms or something to give me a boost. (What? It amuses me when they come to whisper at me and ask where they are, and how they panic if anyone else walks in the store.)
Between the Mexican guys who come in and buy scratch tickets, then go to the back of the line and stand in line while scratching them without bothering to see if they've actually won anything before handing them to me to run through the machine (why bother scratching it if you're not going to actually play the game?) and the old lady who comes in at ten or eleven every single night and makes me check what number the books on her favorite scratch games are on (so far I've avoided what the other night gal says she does to her... holds her hands over the counter where the tickets are and picks up the "vibes") I'm getting to the point where I'm about ready to order a big rubber dildo and bring to work to stash on a shelf just so that I have something to make the nights suck a little less. (Edit: by watching customers notice it and freak out you sick minded individuals)
As an aside, I just got done reading The Princess Bride, the abridged version, and I think I might have caught some kind of parenthetical disease from Mr. Morgenstern.
Last night, 11:40:
Truck belonging to the traffic control company working south of town pulls up. It's ok though, I just made coffee, so I'm good.
Chick comes in, putters around a few minutes, and I hear the cappuccino machine cranking away. Ok, whatever.
Clueless Construction Chick: "Miss? The machine isn't working, it's just putting out water."
Me: "Oh hell my co worker cleaned it earlier she must have forgotten to flip the switch from rinse back to run." (Open machine, flip switch, turn to walk away, cringe as she pours the water from her cup into the drip tray.) "That doesn't have a drain, please don't pour things in there."
CCC: "It's still not working, see?"
I turn around, and she's holding the button down with no cup under it, running water into the drip tray.
Me: "Ma'am, that doesn't drain... Ma'am.... PLEASE STOP." (Because at eleven forty when I've already done 90% of my cleaning I really do not want to deal with a massive spill, thanks.)
CCC: "What?"
Me: "The only drip tray that has a drain is the soda machine. Every time you pour crap into any of the others, the clerk has to clean it."
CCC: "Well that's kind of dumb, they should all have drains."
Me: "I agree, but they don't. I'm sorry that the machine is not functioning correctly and I will put an out of order sign on it but I don't know how to fix it."
CCC: "That's ok I'll just get something else, I didn't really want cappuccino anyway."
At this point I refrained from telling her to get the hell out of my store and go terrorize the ones across the street. Barely. I also refrained from dumping the one hundred and eighty degree water from the drip tray on her head.
But it was a close thing.
I really need some fumbling adorable young high school boy to come in and buy condoms or something to give me a boost. (What? It amuses me when they come to whisper at me and ask where they are, and how they panic if anyone else walks in the store.)
Between the Mexican guys who come in and buy scratch tickets, then go to the back of the line and stand in line while scratching them without bothering to see if they've actually won anything before handing them to me to run through the machine (why bother scratching it if you're not going to actually play the game?) and the old lady who comes in at ten or eleven every single night and makes me check what number the books on her favorite scratch games are on (so far I've avoided what the other night gal says she does to her... holds her hands over the counter where the tickets are and picks up the "vibes") I'm getting to the point where I'm about ready to order a big rubber dildo and bring to work to stash on a shelf just so that I have something to make the nights suck a little less. (Edit: by watching customers notice it and freak out you sick minded individuals)
As an aside, I just got done reading The Princess Bride, the abridged version, and I think I might have caught some kind of parenthetical disease from Mr. Morgenstern.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Home!
Sweet, sweet home... my own bed, my pups, my beautimous wide open spaces, and elbow room!
Not to mention a lack of smog and smoke from nearby fires (not that I'm complaining about the fire, I think most of Colorado would probably happily roast marshmallows while Boulder burned...) sirens in the night and weird-ass people talking to themselves and suddenly turning to me saying "Isn't that right??" (Seriously, this happened to me twice. Neither time was at the hospital, where such things might be somewhat more expected.)
Farmmom made the trip better than we expected... some understandable stiffness, and a whole assload of "god I'm tired" made it home with us, but she's in good shape.
Soon, I'll have posts about two different carry methods for the P32, belly band, and ankle holster. For now, I'm going to go snuggle with my pups and get some sleep... and probably walk to work tomorrow... I am so sick of vehicles!
Not to mention a lack of smog and smoke from nearby fires (not that I'm complaining about the fire, I think most of Colorado would probably happily roast marshmallows while Boulder burned...) sirens in the night and weird-ass people talking to themselves and suddenly turning to me saying "Isn't that right??" (Seriously, this happened to me twice. Neither time was at the hospital, where such things might be somewhat more expected.)
Farmmom made the trip better than we expected... some understandable stiffness, and a whole assload of "god I'm tired" made it home with us, but she's in good shape.
Soon, I'll have posts about two different carry methods for the P32, belly band, and ankle holster. For now, I'm going to go snuggle with my pups and get some sleep... and probably walk to work tomorrow... I am so sick of vehicles!
Monday, September 13, 2010
A Quick Note
Whilst I'm winding down from driving in Denver.
Mom is out of the hospital and spending tonight in the hotel room with her pup... she only had to sit down on her snazzy walker (we got her the one with the seat and basket, just cause) once on the way to the room. She's tired, of course, and drugged, of course, but glad to be out of the hospital.
Tomorrow morning we have an appointment at Doc's office, then snag the last of the needed materials for home, and get the hell out of Dodge... er... Denver.
It's a nice place to visit, but I couldn't live here. No way, no how. Too damn many people, all crowded together like cattle in a pen... *shudder.*
Anyway, just updating. Sleep now.
Mom is out of the hospital and spending tonight in the hotel room with her pup... she only had to sit down on her snazzy walker (we got her the one with the seat and basket, just cause) once on the way to the room. She's tired, of course, and drugged, of course, but glad to be out of the hospital.
Tomorrow morning we have an appointment at Doc's office, then snag the last of the needed materials for home, and get the hell out of Dodge... er... Denver.
It's a nice place to visit, but I couldn't live here. No way, no how. Too damn many people, all crowded together like cattle in a pen... *shudder.*
Anyway, just updating. Sleep now.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Farmmom
Is out of surgery, and awake in recovery. Doc says it's a good looking knee, so I figure he's proud of the work he did, and considering his reputation and the number of patients he has who absolutely adore him, I'm gonna say that means really good things.
Right now they're probably strapping her into the constant motion machine that she'll wear whenever she's in bed until she gets out of the hospital, and getting her x-rays and such.
It'll be about an hour before they put her in her (private) room and come get us to show us where it is.
Whew.
Update: She's in her room, on her magic morphine button, and high as a kite in spite of the torture device... er... constant motion thingy. She's hooked up to more machines than the six million dollar man, at the moment, and is dozing off every time it gets quiet for more than a few seconds.
The only bit that squicks me out a bit is the little vacuum pump that has the tube that runs up to her knee... and it's not even that it's sucking stuff out of her knee, it's the thought that for the next eight hours or so anything they suck out of her they might just pump right back in... which medically is a good thing, but the idea of it being out for that long and then going back in squicks me for some reason.
As soon as she's good and out we'll be heading off to run a couple errands and catch a nap at the hotel. Shouldn't be long now.
Right now they're probably strapping her into the constant motion machine that she'll wear whenever she's in bed until she gets out of the hospital, and getting her x-rays and such.
It'll be about an hour before they put her in her (private) room and come get us to show us where it is.
Whew.
Update: She's in her room, on her magic morphine button, and high as a kite in spite of the torture device... er... constant motion thingy. She's hooked up to more machines than the six million dollar man, at the moment, and is dozing off every time it gets quiet for more than a few seconds.
The only bit that squicks me out a bit is the little vacuum pump that has the tube that runs up to her knee... and it's not even that it's sucking stuff out of her knee, it's the thought that for the next eight hours or so anything they suck out of her they might just pump right back in... which medically is a good thing, but the idea of it being out for that long and then going back in squicks me for some reason.
As soon as she's good and out we'll be heading off to run a couple errands and catch a nap at the hotel. Shouldn't be long now.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Protip
When driving in Denver, at five pm, when the Rockies are playing the Reds:
Don't.
In other news, we survived to get to the hotel, got checked in, and are relaxing for a bit before we go in search of Chinese food. Farmmom's surgery early tomorrow morning, I'll try to get on at the hospital and update, but I'm not making any guarantees, since I'm not positive the hospital has wifi.
Regardless, by tomorrow night there will be an update.
Don't.
In other news, we survived to get to the hotel, got checked in, and are relaxing for a bit before we go in search of Chinese food. Farmmom's surgery early tomorrow morning, I'll try to get on at the hospital and update, but I'm not making any guarantees, since I'm not positive the hospital has wifi.
Regardless, by tomorrow night there will be an update.
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