Employer Benefits

As an employer, I go through many resumes. Below is one I wish for:


Resimay
To hoom it mae cunsern,
I waunt to apply for the job what I saw in the paper.I can Type realee quik wit one finggar and do sum a counting..I think I am good on the phone and I no I am a pepole person,Pepole really seam to respondto me well. Certain men and all the ladies.I no my spelling is not to good but fi nd that I Offen can get a job thru my persinalety.My salerery is open so we can discus wat you want to pay me and wat you think that I am werth,I can start emeditely. Thank you in advanse fore yore anser.hopifuly Yore best aplicant so farr.
Sinseerly,
BRYANPS :
Because my resimay is a bit short - below is a pickture of me.

My response:
Dear Bryan,

It's OK honey, we've got spell check. See you Monday.

P.S. Do you herd goats?

Pretend You Are Me

Let's play-like you are me.


To be a Home Health RN JUST.LIKE.ME here in BFE, you must be willing to:

Go to homes with the concept you are going to give incredible care to your homebound patients.

Travel the backroads to GET to some of those homes WAY OUT in the country.

Depend on your navigation system to get you lost OVER and OVER and hear "Recalculating" about 28 times in a 5 mile stretch.

Arrive at your first home to find the caregiver outside motioning in panic.

Jump out with bag in hand ready to save the day.

Realize caregiver is headed BEHIND the house and wonder WTH is my bedbound patient doing BEHIND the house...

Hear your patient's caregiver say, "I need you to help me round up these kids."

Be prepared to talk in your authoratative voice to do said "rounding" for apparent disruptive "kids".

Realize it is THESE kind of kids, not the two-legged kind.

Get more exercise in 5 minutes than you have had in months, waving your arms and doing some football moves.

Go to your NEXT patient's house in town and breathe a sigh of relief you will not have any further goat-herding to do that day.

Enter the house to see this:

Realize you must have been absent on the day you were instructed in "livestock care" in nursing school.

Rethink this whole nursing career thing...

I know you are green with envy. Or maybe that's baby chick poop...

Spring Fever

It was 82 degrees here yesterday. It was barely above freezing Saturday.

Welcome to Texas.

I love spring. I love fall. I hate heat over 90 and cold under 50. And since I can't live in San Diego, I will always be gripey because of the weather.

The spring brings:
Spring cleaning
Shaving my thighs
Pedicures
Planting flowers
Going in search of the total body swimsuit that has yet to be invented.
Vats of sunblocks
Vats of bug spray
Vats of wine

And my sick patients suddenly become well. They have the same spring fever the rest of us have and want to have less visits, which means, well, you know...less money. Hello, sick patients....Do you have any idea how expensive vats of wine are?!

Speaking of patients:
Nurse arrives to check on patient with Diabetes. This patient has to have insulin and we provided him with a sharps container to dispose his used syringes in. When done adminstering the insulin, the nurse turns to find the sharps container was full.

Of COOKIES.

THAT my friends, is being green to the bone.

YEA!!! He needs more education, which means more visits!!!!!!

Liquor store, here I come. I wonder if they sell razors there? My thigh hairs could be braided.

What the heck has been going on, you ask...

It's Monday and I am completely spent emotionally. Tiny silly things are throwing me into huge fits of hysteric laughter. Small insignificant things are bringing me to tears. And yet the drama has spread and all SEVEN of my kids have major issues going on. My niece is just the cherry on top. Bring me a straitjacket.


My MIL has been with us all week due to some home maintenance issues at her house. Bring me Xanax.

I have decided that life goes on, I love to laugh MUCH more than I love to cry, and I can only do so much and asking for help is okay. Plus I have lost 13 pounds. Without exercise. Stress does that. trust me I would rather be fat than deal with what I am dealing with.

The Young 'uns are at their dad's house for three more days and our weekend guests have left. That means dear hubby and I have to speak to complete sentences to one another and I have no one to blame for the dishes stacking up and the supper not being made. (dammit)

Now for the silver lining in my gray cloud.

They started on our pool last week and had it dug and poured before the torrential down pour that lasted three days occurred. So now my lovely cement pond is half full of lime green radio active water or something I am sure that is just as dramatic.

The soil around here in these parts is clay. Brown snotty slimey clay. The kind of clay when wet sticks to your feet and you start the day being 5 ft 5 inches and by the end of the day are close to 8 feet tall. So I have mounds of brown snot/slime surrounding the side and back of my house. Right in my stupid mother effin' dog's poop/pee zone. So, I have to weigh whether I want to clean up pee and poop inside or brown snotty slime of his wet smelly legs if I let him out to do his bizness or just shoot him because he isn't smart enough to go to the other side of the yard.

Now, I have been anticipating this pool for TWO summers and something always comes up and the pool is pushed to the bottom of the list. So this year when the budget came through and I was told by Rick that we could do it, I wasted NO time. Literally. Poor unsuspecting Pool Man was down the street and I walked (yes, I was THAT excited) down and told him to give me his plan book. I was rather bossy and snippy, but he was obliging and completely understood my race to get the hole dug before Rick could change his mind. So I chose a plan, got the quote, fought a little bit on the price and told them to come dig. The backhoe tractor rig showed up less than 2 hours later. And the hole was dug.

Then I decided it was too close to the house.

That white thing is a paper plate. That gray step is our existing patio. So my pool is only 10 paper plates away from my patio edge.

But a too-close-to-the-house-pool is a pool and I was scared that if I made them change it, it would be another summer before I had my summer babysitter pool. So you can't sleep walk at my house or you will walk 14 feet in my backyard and land in the pool, which at this moment is filled with lime jello and which will probably eat your epidermis off.

So my life is crashing around me with my kids all out of whack, but dammit, I am getting a pool.

Bring on the chaise lounges and Mai Tais. Pass me the 45 sunblock and my wide brimmed hat. It will be time to party soon.

Clear your calendar in September for our sleepover. The dates will be decided on soon. We are giving Jay a makeover. Hee hee.

And tomorrow Dana will have a video on the toy she just received. Hee hee.

Now add this fortune cookie to your next post and see where it ends up. No linking required. Just copy as a picture and get down with your bad self.

I am Changing My Name To Jerry Springer

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did.

I have decided to transform my garage to a TV studio. The lights and chairs are in place and the audience is restless. The burly bodyguards have been hired are are waiting in the sidelines.

Enter this Saga's stars: my sister, Lizzie(Mom of the Year), my niece(Smartest 15 year old on earth), countless horny bastards, worthless state and city employees, and Me(the current reigning Heartless Bitch).

Let's review a tad:
August 08: My niece decided to move out because she had the choice to follow the rules and quit sneaking out to have sex or move out. Simple enough. She chose to move out because, like most 15 year olds, she is so much smarter than adults.

Oct 08: I get a letter from said niece begging to come back because her mom is making her go to school and work. She now hates her mom (again). I said no.

Dec 08: Repeated calls/texts from niece saying she has changed and will follow rules. I make heart-wrenching decision to stick to my guns and continue to say no, explaining I cannot put MY kids thru this.

Jan 09: Receive call from Lizzie saying I need to take Britt back because she is done being a mom. Three days later I receive call saying niece is pregnant.

Feb 09: Spent a month finding niece a place to stay/advising her to give baby up for adoption. She refuses saying she is never going to do either one because she can take care of herself. Still wants me to take her back because "she can take care of herself". My sister moves to Washington state and leaves her daughter homeless and her Mother of the Year crown in storage.

Mar 6th, 2009: Niece arrives in my town saying she is here and wants to move back in. I say "hell to the no" again. I spend the entire weekend being a prisoner in my own home until my security guy can come and talking with the police. She had sent a text to my daughter telling her to steal money and a phone from us. The police tell me they cannot do anything. CPS cannot do anything because they don't know where she is.

Cue the chorus of "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"

I will be signing autographs after the show.

Stay tuned.

I Have Been Telling You For Years, Kid

OMG, my kids are going to read this and say, "WHAT THE?"

I have been telling my kids for 24 and a half years now I hold this title. Now here is the proof. My precious, apparently psycho, friend Em at Life, Liberty and the Pursuit granted me this beautiful award. Thank you, dear Em. (Next time we go out, please order more than crab cakes. You make me feel like a cow.)

Okay, here are the rules (and everyone knows how I LOVE rules):

1. Admit ONE thing you feel awful about involving being a mom. Get it off your shoulders. Once you've written it down, you are NO LONGER allowed to feel bad. It's over with, it's in the past. Remember, you're a great mom!!

The one thing negative that comes to mind is i feel bad because I refuse to clean up after them and they make me scream because screaming is so much easier than cleaning. I don't feel bad for making them clean. I just feel rotten when I lose it and sling spit when I am having the meltdown. For about 10 seconds. Then I feel bad because I really don't feel all that bad. What was the question?

2. To remind yourself that you ARE a good mom, list SEVEN things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you. These are the things to remind yourself of EVERY DAY that you rock!

1. I love that my kids are all so funny. They crack me up. Literally. I am cracked.

2. I love that my older boys are proud of the fact they are Momma's boys and brag to their friends about it. (plus it's easier to hand over cash to someone who is bragging, "Yeah, that's right, I'm a Momma's boy!")

3. I love watching my kids interact with one another, telling stories and sharing memories. (NOT the interaction of fighting. They are good at that, as well.)

4. I love that my kids kid me about not being able to cook. No culinary expectations are really a good thing. I really love it when my youngest says to me, "This meatloaf is better than dad's." I know he's a smoozer, but I still love the compliment.

5. I love to travel with my kids. They are so appreciative and seriously do not ask for much. It is a true joy to give them opportunities they have never experienced. They take nothing for granted and I love that about them.

6. I love that my kids all kiss me hello and goodbye. Even my too-cool almost-14 year old daughter. She is even known to tell me I am beautiful without expecting a handout.

7. I love that my kids can all take a joke. None of them have thin skin, and I find no greater joy than laughing with them. They can all laugh at themselves and making fun of one another is seldom an issue since we all make fun of ourselves. It works for us. Their friends have often said there is never any drama or fighting at our house because no one can stay mad at one another because someone always makes them laugh. I tell them individually that they are my favorite and not to tell their siblings. They all know I do it to each kid, because no one can keep a secret.

3. Hand out this beauty to deserving Moms and Dads (who don't mind being called "MOM" at times).

Again, you know I am lazy and I am just assigning it to everyone, male or female, who reads this. It's a GREAT subject to post about and I truly believe some of us are looking for some boosts in post ideas.

Update: My niece is who-knows where. Her mother, whom we have divorced and no longer consider our sister, moved to Washington and left her. Thank you for the thoughts and prayers. I will try to keep you as updated as I can.

Dancing Queen

Saturday night went almost as expected.

Lots of beautiful women. Like Em and Kristin.

And Shauna and Holly and yet another gorgeous blogger who I was introduced to between glasses of wine and want to call Chardonnay. (please forgive for not remembering your name!!)

And beauties Elaine and Nicole who sat with us and somehow escaped my wonderful photography.

And Jay. The most beautiful of all blogger women there.

We giggled and snotted and even peed a little.

And more than one of us declared our undying love for him and his 25% masculinity.

Or asked to borrow his hair gel.

I nervously declare my infatuation with the tallest lesbian at the dinner.

Look below the proudly displayed name card (made by Leslie) at the lettuce wraps.

This manly feast was ordered by HeMan Nancy Jay.

This is what I ordered.

Some of us were receiving texts from all those who know me so well, such as:

Is Jill stripping yet? NO

Are you dancing on tables yet? NO

Are you talking about me? YES

I kept Jay's balls in my purse for him until the end of the night.

As soon I gave them back, this is what happened.

And he said he couldn't dance...