You can’t read my shirt. But it says, “Mama Needs a Drink”
You can’t read my shirt. But it says, “Mama Needs a Drink”
(Disclaimer: actually print was injured and abused in the making of these jokes)
My dad said hi to me from heaven today. But let me give you some background if you’re new here.
I was born to parents like a really long time ago. I grew up and stuff and like a couple of years ago, my dad died. Unexpected, natural causes, traumatic, yada yada…all those fancy words.
So today I am driving down a semi busy road in my town (speed limit 50) when in the distance, I notice what appears to be a car show.
No. Don’t look.
Do not look for it, Her et al., it will just break you heart all over again!! No. NO. NO!!!
Oh look. There it is. Candy apple red, 68 VW Bug Show condition and “that” guy who bought it standing next to it.
I slammed on my brakes. Middle of the road! From 50 mPh to zilch. Luckily no one was right behind me.
And I gasped. It looked like it did the last time I saw my dad try to jam all 9ft 6 of himself into it. (Slight exaggeration).
It was at that moment that my dad said hi to me. By throwing a gigantic live wild turkey at my windshield. Which I luckily had missed by centimeters thanks to having slammed on my brakes! Those stupid turkeys should be flightless birds and they agree with me as evidenced by the fact that they can’t get any higher that 4 ft off the ground. Or at least this chap couldn’t.
My dad use to send cardinals for my hello’s. I guess he’s assumed it’s been long enough to move onto the more humorous signs from heaven. We do have a cardinal in our neighborhood but it’s a female and I call it Grandma Dorothy. She’s loud and it makes to me.
Anyways, thanks for looking out for me stinker!
Obviously these dolls are not real. If they wanted true keepsakes, they could make them WAY less creepy (add baby’s first curl to the top…not really), but it bring up a good point…
I don’t mind Santa and the Easter bunny, but this Tooth Fairy business is some seriously creepy stuff…even without this spooky doll. Like, why are we doing this people? When is it going to be socially acceptable to say, “Here’s $5. Now go throw your tooth away.”
Total “wait for it” video. You know the Christmas program is done when the kid starts throwing up gang signs! I laugh so hard I think I peed a little.
Please share the joy.
With my medical background I get really nervous working with raw chicken. But sometimes I’m like, “Well a little salmonella poisoning could be good for the waistline…”
Thanksgiving means my husband gets a day off. He needs it. They “rolled out” a new system of something and it didn’t go well.
They never do. Whoever coined that phrase was trying really hard to figure out something else to call this “really shitty new thing the boss is going to make you do.”
I remember when I was working and we “rolled out” a new documentation system. We had to have extra staff on hand and our meals were catered that day. Because rolling shit out sucks.
“Republicans roll out a new tax plan.” Sound better than “republicans typed up thousands of pages of new tax shit you won’t read and it’s going to really screw you over!” (It’s ok, I can that because I’m a republican.)
In my opinion, the only successful roll out in modern American history is Ludacris’s 2009 hit track “Rollout“.
“It is just a phase.”
Spoken at me, not with
As if to negate independent thoughts, expressions, translation of life
Blend all lives into one brown blob and crown it normal
But, as a pin on a map, an address, gps coordinates, I exists. Am composed of mass, occupy space, every last cell and atom.
Bringing with it a singular view with which I create my story. One step and word at a time. Each phase building upon its predecessor.
Each step brings a new perspective.
And in that moment my phase is my reality. A dynamic reality. Ever changing to reflect my existence. To differentiate.
Similes: Phase and reality
Honor it as if you approved it or take you blob and go. I refused to fit a mold. But this I promise you, should I ever disagree with your shoes, I’ll notify you and expect they be thrown out.
Those shoes? They were just your phase, right?
Alex Wubbels is our leader. I want a tattoo of her face, on my face. So when people get out of line with me, I can show them my Wubbels.
Her arrest has gone viral for being shitty and wrong. Many scary, wrong things have happened to me as critical care nurse as well. But nothing could have prepared this poor woman for being arrested for simply advocating patients rights and clarifying hospital protocol (which was mutually agreed upon by the hospital and the police department in question, might I add). My God, that detective leapt at her like a rabid banshee! He’s lucky the holy hell of nurses didn’t rain down upon him then and there! There probably wasn’t time, he skedaddled out of there.
You would think people would have learned their lesson from The View, you don’t f@&$ with nurses. We take shit too, cops. I’ve held the hand of mom while she withdrew care from her teenage son and walked into the next room to feed a restrained, belligerent alcoholic some chocolate pudding. All while keeping a cool head.
And if that idiot detective ever does something else stupid like lights his face on fire and lands in Alex’s care one fine day, I know he will receive first class and professional care, as if they had never met (Lord knows he won’t have any unnecessary blood draws). Because if there is one thing I can tell you, us nurses can hand you your ass when need be. But when it’s time to save lives, it doesn’t matter what your name is, your life matters just as much as the next guy.
I guess that’s the difference between cops and nurses. Asshole.
What happens to my baby for the three hours she is out of my sights Monday through Friday?
Because she’s been doing this for a week now and she’s down a pound, begging for naps, and acting like she’s never been fed.
I send her to this primary colored looking baby love-me-land looking all tidy with her pigtails and cute dress. And I pick up this wild eyed, frizzy haired monstery midget with marker hands who is now dressed in someone else’s clothes, has one ponytail (I think), and a demonic voice is coming from her general direction demanding Spaghetti-O’s.
I can’t keep those things on the shelf either. Stupid Spaghetti-O’s (no I won’t Google how to really spell it!) And we’ve moved on to the “feeds 16 monsters midgets with marker hands” cans but it doesn’t matter because kid doesn’t even taste them. I’m thinking about getting her a straw next time to expedite things.
Oh and, I’m only allowed to warm them in the pan whilst she’s ripping her strangers clothes off with closed eyes, SCREAMING how she’s not tired. So about 30 seconds of “cooking”. But then they’re still, “TOO HOT MOMMY!”
My God people, be good to your teachers. I’m pretty sure most of them are currently thinking “why the hell didn’t I become a dentist?”