Monday, September 29, 2008

Goodbye Velma, GI Joe and Cowboy Bob-I won't miss any of you.

Sorry I have not been updating lately. I've been a little busy. I had to work both of my jobs one week. That meant 57 hours of work in one week....I was so tired and by the time I got home, I was too tired to do anything other than eat dinner and go to bed. Then, last week I was busy packing for my move. I moved Friday. I never want to move again. I am not joking. I seriously never want to move again. I don't want to pack another box or schedule another moving team. I know I will eat those words someday, but for right now, I don't want to think about moving again.

Saturday I had to run back to the other apartment to pick up my cable box because the movers wouldn't move it for some reason. Anyhow, I ran in and picked up the cable unit, I walked back out of my apartment and of course I was ready to drop all the stuff because I think it is only right to try to carry ten thousand things at one time. That's how I roll. When I was coming out I had to stop and lock the door, I was talking to myself, I am sure of it when all the sudden, Velma (weird next door neighbor) opens her door, looks at me and then closes the door. Okay Velma, were you looking for Scooby and Shaggy? Did you really need to open the door and look at me? No, I don't think so. You were just being nosy and I should have kicked your ass or cut you. I am so glad to be out of there, away from Velma, Cowboy Bob and GI Joe because they were sort of janky ghetto. Seriously, Velma put some note on her mailbox that she only wanted the mailman to put mail in her box addressed to her. Velma, I think you have had one too many rides in the Mystery Machine with Shaggy and took a few too many tokes from the reefer, because the mailman doesn't have time to look at all the mail he puts in your box. Do what everyone else does and throw the junk away. DUH!! Velma, for being a student at the prestigious local university, you are dumber than a damn stump.

I was also tired of Cowboy Bob and his nasty boots in the hallway, tracking in crap all over the carpet. I was also over GI Joe and his yappy dog and his loud ass wife who screamed at the dog all the time for being a bad puppy. I don't need all that mess in my life. I have enough foolishness going on and I don't have time to deal with all their foolishness, too. I hadn't realized how much the apartment complex had become the den of jankiness until I left. Just one night at the new apartment and I had my eyes opened.

The new apartment is so quiet and nice. I love it so far. Other than the fact that my car is too wide to fit in my garage, everything else has been good. They are going to see if someone will switch garages with me so I can have a garage too. So, when that happens, things will be FAB-U-LOUS!!

I am off to take a shower and then to bed. I am so tired I had trouble staying awake at work today. I have to sleep tonight so I can be back on top of my game tomorrow. I really wish the nice unpacking fairies would come and take the things out of my car that I had to put in there today. I still have a few things at the other apartment. I have to turn in my keys tomorrow, so I have to get it all out by tomorrow. I only have a few things, it won't take my long to get done. I just want it to be done. I am falling asleep. Until next time, Diva Divine

Thursday, September 18, 2008

I was going to donate my blood; you didn't have to nearly kill me for it!

I gave blood yesterday. There was a time when I donated blood on a fairly regular basis. Back when I had time to be a do-gooder. When I traveled to Honduras in 2005, I wasn’t allowed to give blood for one year because I had been to a country where I could have been exposed to malaria and I had to have a blue million shots and a prescription of anti-malaria meds. They don’t want your blood if those things have been floating around in there. I sort of got out of the habit of donating after that. We actually had a blood drive at work yesterday, so I signed up to donate. I thought it was a good time to get back in that habit again. They brought the little blood bus out to us and they actually paid us to go out and give blood. It was really cool.
When it was my turn to roll up my sleeve, I got the chatty phlebotomist. Why do I always get people who want to talk my leg off? Seriously, there were no phones ringing, no people wanting this and that from me, I could just lean back and relax for ten minutes. No, I have the guy who wants to sing every song that comes on the radio and talk my leg off. I wanted to tell him “Please be quiet so I can enjoy this time without my phone ringing. Thank you.” But, I really couldn’t say that to him, so I had to listen to him yak on and on and sing and aggravate me. I should have taken the needle and gouged his eyes out. That would have stopped him from yakking so much don’t you think?
Anyhow, Mr. Phlebotomist preps me for my donation. He swabs my arm with something for at least 45 seconds and then tells me “Now you will feel a little stick and a sting.” Yeah, I’ve done this a bunch of times. I know the drill. Then, he sticks me and I almost went through the roof of the blood bus. I thought he cut my arm in half. The pain shot up my arm and I had tears in my eyes. It hurt like hell. He blamed it on the tourniquet. The tourniquet, hell, his blood drawing skills was the problem, not the tourniquet. He loosened the tourniquet and it didn’t help much, but I didn’t want to tell him “My arm still hurts because you didn’t get the needle in there right.” I have no right to tell him he didn’t do his job right when I have no clue how to do his job. I just know from experience it wasn’t right. I also didn’t want to be stuck a second time. I am a fast bleeder, so I knew it would be over soon. Okay, I prayed it would be over soon.
I was able to fill my blood bag in about seven minutes. I told you I am a fast bleeder. I ate my yogurt and fruit and got the hell off the blood bus. I was in so much pain I thought my arm was going to fall off. Plus, I was tired of listening to Mr. I Really Can’t Shut Up Phlebotomist sing another bad 80’s tune. Yes, I would have really rather dealt with my phone ringing. I hurried back to my desk and popped four Advil and prayed for the pain to cease. Or, I was going to go hack my arm off in the bathroom with a plastic knife and spoon.
I have a nice bruise on my arm today, but thankfully the pain is gone. After three doses of Advil, I should be feeling like a million dollars and my liver is close to having toxic levels of meds. I hope Mr. Phlebotomist found someone else to serenade because maybe there is someone in the world who could appreciate him and his voice. I couldn’t be counted among those people because I am too mean and cranky. Actually, my problem is lack of sleep. I am have been working both jobs this week, except last night when I met my sorority sisters for dinner. I am so tired I could put my head down on this desk and fall asleep, even with the awful live music we are having tonight (Gotta love bad versions of All My Ex’s Live in Texas and Johnny B. Good…oh yes, I so want this guy to play at my next event…not!). I didn’t want to get up this morning and go to the gym, but I felt like such a fat ass after eating out last night, I knew I had to get up and do something. I just have to make it through tomorrow and then I can sort of sleep in Saturday because I have to work Saturday morning from 10 until 3. We are having Girls Night Out Saturday night, which should be fun!!! Just one more day of doing both jobs and Saturday morning should be easy. Next week however is going to be a big pain because I am moving Friday and I have not packed the first box. Yeah, can you say someone will be a big pain in the ass next week because she didn’t get stuff done prior to this move? No, I have no idea who that pain in the ass would be. Only 15 more minutes here in Country Music Hell…not like I’m counting or anything. Until next time, Diva Divine

Saturday, September 13, 2008

I swear this happened! It's too good to make it up

(setting: 6:45, Monday evening.....lobby of the nursing home)

Diva sits at the front desk, editing The Leadership Guide on her kick ass MacBook while Larry, the night maintenance guy, vacuums the main dining room.
The phone rings, the Diva picks it up

Diva: Good evening, thank you for calling (insert the nursing home name here).
Caller: Yes, I was wondering if you were hiring RN's at this time? Is there someone there I could talk to about a position?
Diva: Yes we are currently hiring RN's and LPN's, but Kim, who you would need to talk to about the position, is already gone for the day. You are more than welcome to stop in and pick up an application. I will be here until 7:30 this evening and our daytime receptionist will be in at 8:30. You can come and pi ck up an application and..... (caller interrupts Diva..she interrupted the Diva!!!)
Caller: I would like to do that however (Diva knows she is going to hear a good story now....) with the price of gas being so high, I was hoping to talk with someone and do a phone interview instead.
Diva sits with her mouth agape.....she is speechless....did this lady just say she can't come in and get an application because gas is too expensive?...surely, my ears were mistaken.
Diva: I can give you Kim's voicemail and she will be in tomorrow. Would you like me to connect you to her voicemail? (Diva is still stunned at the audacity of some people)
Caller: Yes, I would like her voicemail.
Diva: Thank you, I will transfer you to her voicemail.
Diva transfers the line to voicemail and has to physically close her mouth before the residents families mistake her for a resident who got off the ward and they try to admit her.

I am not making this up...this really did happen. I wonder how she was going to be able to come to an interview if she couldn't afford to drive to pick up an application. How was she going to come to work if she got the position? Did she think we were going to send the residents to her?? Oh, for the love of Pete, the audacity of people just slays me. I bet if I told her we would bring the application to her, she would have taken me up on the offer. Better yet, I should have offered to fill the application out for her via the phone....

On a happy of our residents, Opal, turned 103 today! She lived alone until last year when she started to suffer from dementia...I swear the lady doesn't look a day over 70. She looks better than some 50 year olds I know....I want to look that good if I ever make it to 103! She went out to dinner with her nephew and she looked more like his sister than his aunt! I think Opal has been living right! Happy Birthday, Miss Opal!!! Until next time, Diva Divine

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Scary!!! Pageant Queens abound!

I am watching "Painted Babies at 17" on TLC. The show is a documentary about little girls who compete in pageants. The original show aired in 1995 and now they have gone back to interview two girls who were only five when the first filming. I couldn't imagine being up on a stage and being objectified by people. It's kind of creepy. But I guess if they love doing it, why not. However, I have to say that someone needs to tell these girls just because you are cute, doesn't mean you can sing. Seriously, being off key and scream-singing might be cute when you are three or four, but not at 17. That isn't talent, it's annoying.

Then, you have this scary emcee named Tim. He gives me the creeps just seeing him on television and I wouldn't see how he doesn't creep out the parents and the kids. How can you honestly tell people "I emcee little girl's beauty pageants for a living." Hello, that would send up a red flag and sound the weird-o alarm. He might really be a nice guy, but his spontaneous renderings of songs scares me shitless. He should just go work on a cruise ship because at least that would not be as weird as working as a pageant emcee and he would probably make a whole lot more money.

Why is it that all the girls have to look like Barbie with a smile permanently plastered on their faces? I don't think I have ever smiled that much in my life. The only time I came close was during sorority rush. My face hurt for a week afterward. Also, the girls in these pageants have Barbie Blonde hair and the hair has to be BIG. All the girls have big hair, no matter their age. It's like they are little trolls whose bodies grow out of this big mass of hair. Maybe that is the secret. You have to start life as a little ball of hair and your body just grows from there? Maybe that is how they stay so thin? Maybe they can smile so much because their hair is pulled so tight and has so much hairspray in it so it doesn't move when they go on stage and change outfits.

So, I have been scared to death I hope I don't have nightmares. I will say if the kids like going to the pageants and competing then why not do it? Just as long as they like doing it and it's fun for them. However, I think some of them are doing it to keep their parents happy and the parents are living their lives through their kids. To each their own. Until next time, Diva Divine

Friday, September 5, 2008

Yes, I am still alive

I've been a little busy the past few days. Sorry for the hiatus. I thought I was going to have to go all carnival freak crazy on my apartment complex management because they suck. I told them weeks ago my air conditioning wasn't working right, but they didn't come to work on it because that would have been too easy. So, when I came home Tuesday, my apartment was 10,000 degrees. You guessed it, my air conditioning was not working. I called the emergency maintenance line and leave a message. No one calls me back. So, I call again an hour later. No one calls. I call a third time, two hours after my first call. Nothing. By this time, it was 10:20 and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep in my house because it was so hot I could not breath. So, I packed up my stuff and went to a hotel for the night. I was so mad they didn't call me back and I was hot and grumpy. I didn't want to spend the money to go to a hotel, but I really didn't have a choice.

The next day, I called the office to see if they were going to fix my A/C and the little byotch in the office got smart with me. I think she wanted me to cut her or something. She said I didn't call and leave the message on the right mailbox so that is why my call was never returned. Okay, I have lived here for four years, I know how to leave a message for emergency maintenance, byotch. I almost went through the phone and scratched her eyes out, but I was at work and I didn't want to have to go all ghetto on her. I will get her when she least expects it. Seriously, she will get what is coming to her.

They finally came and fixed my A/C Wednesday. It was being obstructed by weeds!!! Are you kidding me? Don't the gardening people cut the weeds down around here? They are here practically every other day. What the hell do they do when they are here? Sit around and play with their weed-eaters and put their thumbs up their asses and rotate on them? Really, why can't people do their jobs?

I am really exhausted and I just want to go to bed. I think I will do that shortly. This week, even though we only worked four days, seemed so cram packed with stuff to do. I am just exhausted. Until next time, Diva Divine