Ring Out the Old, Ring in the New

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen , goodbye to 2006. All in all not a bad year. Typical really with the normal personal trials and tribulations. The world is not a better place than previous years, we’ll see what 2007 brings. I am hopeful that the state of world affairs won’t get worse.

I don’t make resolutions. Rather I try to use my powers for good and not evil. My wickedness appears if warranted, but maybe less in the coming year. No promises.

Whatever you do to ring in the new year do it safely. Here's wishing you more happiness than all my words can tell, not just alone for New Years Eve but for all the year as well.

Adieu, adieu. To you and you and you. See you in 2007.

Sometimes, it’s the Principal of the Matter

I don’t always have to be right. However, if I am personally wronged, I will get to the bottom of it in a manner that allows me to move forward.

Over the summer, I updated a few appliances in my kitchen. The appliances that I replaced were old but worked fine. I made arrangements with a couple of the offices I work with to see if they wanted any additional kitchen appliances. Typically, the medical office kitchen will be supplied with others’ leftovers. I found homes for all three appliances.

I work with many lovely people. The one I am referring to is a hypocrite. God love her, but I finally had to put an end to the madness. She professes to be a very ecumenical person. Good for her. I am religious too; I just don’t advertise every divine act of kindness.

This incident involves a microwave that was to be transported to one of our satellite offices. The receiving office had a microwave that was so old, I am pretty sure it was leaking radiation with each use. Ms. Ecumenical volunteered to transport the microwave to the other office. Great! My act of kindness is complete or so I thought.

The following week, Ms. Ecumenical announced that she decided that my microwave would be better served at her little church rather than the medical office. It was not a big deal, I wanted someone who needed it to have it and then I’d take the write off for tax purposes. I told Ms. Ecumenical that was fine and to please bring me a receipt for the microwave.

Fast forward to today. For the past 6 months, once a month, I have been reminding Ms. Ecumenical to bring me a receipt for the donation of the microwave. Each time she comes up with some story about how her church is small and they don’t have official receipts, blah, blah, blah. I asked her to scribble it on their letter head and that would suffice. She said that would be a good idea and still no receipt.

Yesterday after hearing about the lovely time she spent at her church and all the activities surrounding Christmas, I asked her again for the receipt or I asked her to bring the microwave back so I could donate it to someone who would furnish me with a receipt. She told me she had the receipt and that she would bring it the next day. I reminded her to make sure the receipt had the Church’s name and address on it.

Today, I received the microwave back.

I knew all along that the microwave never made it to her church and that she was using it herself. Now the fact that she wanted the microwave for her own purposes was not an issue to me. It was the smoke and mirrors and the lying of where the microwave ended up.

Ms. Ecumenical will now be referred to as Pinocchio. Also, anyone need a microwave?

Best Present Ever!

Hopefully Santa was good to each and every one of you. Either you are still hanging out with family and friends, rushing off to the stores for even more shopping, cashing in those gift cards or dealing with returns.

I am at work, no rest for the wicked or weary. I received many nice things, hard to believe I know. The absolute best gift was this:



A martini backpack! I am going to set it up in my office and see how long it takes to get me into trouble.

Wish me luck. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere in the world!

However and Whatever You Celebrate, Do it Safely

I still believe in Santa. Hope you all do too.



In an effort to not leave anyone out, I henceforth wish to you all:

Merry Christmas/ Happy Hanukkah/ Happy Kwanza/ as well as Happy Solstice!

Joyeux Noel
Frohliche Weihnachten
Kala Christougenna
Mele Kalikimaka
Mo'adim Lesimkha
Shubh Naya Baras
Nollaig Shona Dhuit
Buon Natale
Shinnen Omedeto
Sung Tan Chuk Ha
Pax Hominibus
Wesolych Swiat
Boas Festas
Sretan Bozic
Feliz Navidad
God Jul
Noeliniz Kutlu Olsun
Gute Vaynakhtn

Yuletide Commercials

For the most part the commercials are endearing. They even warm my cold, dark heart.

However, if the marketers at BMW thought that the screeching kid was going to make me purchase their vehicle to keep him safe, they absolutely missed their mark. If I see that commercial one more time, I am going to triple mortgage the townhouse, by the BMW and run that kid over repeatedly.

Happy Holidays BMW, enough with the obnoxious kid already!

I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up

This was my initial thought as I when I went head first into my steps yesterday. I guess the combination of shuffling my feet while wearing a pair of mules just is not recommended. My right shoe came of my foot as I was ascending the first step which happens to be concrete. Thankfully I landed mainly onto my left knee and left wrist, they pretty much took the brunt of my fall.

Even better, there was only one neighbor to witness the event and she did not come running to my aid. It took me a few seconds to make mental note of pain and possibly broken bones, but other than a pair of badly bruised knees and an even more aggrieved ego all is well.

Maybe I should ask Santa for a Life Alert necklace for Christmas

To My Fellow Bloggers of the Blogosphere

Congratulations on being named Time Magazine's People of the Year.

How cool is that? I am proud to be among you.

We can make a noticeable difference.

Bing Crosby Eat Your Heart Out (Posthumously)

Jingle Bells, Holy Hell, Work is out of Control

This is what I get for partying 2 days in a row on company time. It was well worth it but the backlog is about to kill me.

Think if I just start guzzling eggnog and let the numbers fall where they may anyone would notice?

Let me start and I will get back to you.

Party responsibly, kids!

Social Butterfly

Whew! Hard to find time to blog in between end of year work loads and Holiday Parties. The benefit of working for a large organization with multiple sites? I get invited to more than one Christmas party.

So far the gathering of loot is excellent. I ended up with a gift that suits me to a tee. Of course in the process I snatched six other gifts in the exchange mayhem, but it’s one of the reasons I get invited. If I weren’t there, they would boringly get up and pick a present from the pile and be content. NOT!!!

Also I got smooched by a couple of Federal Worker Types at the Reston McCormick and Schmidt. It was some sort of Holiday Scavenger Hunt type deal and I was the lucky recipient of a couple of mystery pecks. Don’t you just love the Holidays?

Off to another Secret Santa gig this afternoon. Will report back with any pertinent details.

Ho ho ho!

Genetic Distribution

Well it took only 4 phone calls, an act of Congress and maybe 3 e-mails but I finally got my family to visit me at my house. Stop the presses!

I told them all that when I lived in NC they visited me more often. Oh well, I am grateful for the few and far between visits. Because the time of the visit was also an issue, I decided on serving an afternoon tea. It was not your ordinary high tea menu but it worked out well. Everyone seemed happy with the spread and so far no phone calls telling me anyone was poisoned. If I have to say so myself, I learned from the best my Mom so I wasn’t as worried about how the food would taste. Rather, I was more worried about catering to the picky members of my family. It all worked out.

Afterwards we took two carloads and went to the Bull Run light display. If you live in the area, it is really beautiful this year and I’ve already been through twice. I highly recommend it. While we were enjoying the display, Sous Chef Mermaid asked her dad (my BIL) what the distance to her step sister’s house was from theirs. BIL explained that is was the same distance to her house from theirs as it was to my house, just in opposite directions. Here is where the genetic code is very important.

Even in the darkened car, I could see the gears turning in Mermaid’s head. They usually travel to BIL’s first daughter’s house sometime during the Christmas Holiday. Mermaid said if they were able to carry all the gifts involved to her step sister’s house which also houses his two grandsons, then it shouldn’t be an issue bringing the rest of the gifts to my house. The discussion started because I asked where and when we’d be having Christmas this year. As you may remember, my Father cancelled Thanksgiving. I offered up my house again and was told by BIL that he couldn’t not cart all of Mermaid’s gifts across the Beltway. I have to cart mine across the Beltway to them.

In any case, Mermaid tried to use the genes she inherited from me to set the scenario so that Christmas could happen at my house but it will not happen. No matter, we will stick to tradition and I will traverse the Beltway for the festivities.

So far we have had one phone call regarding the subject. I am sure we will have to discuss it at least 12 more times before we are tearing into our packages.

Internal Fatalism

Last week this time I had the worst 5 hours of my life. I had discovered a breast lump earlier in the week and had much pain in the same breast. I used to work with a surgeon who treated many cases of breast ailments so I was pretty sure what I was experiencing was a cyst. However, I also knew that if it was a simple cyst I shouldn’t be experiencing them at this point in my life. Not much panic at this point, huge amounts of concern.

Last Friday, I made an appointment with one of the female providers I work for to see if she was going to feel the same lump that I did. It turns out that one of her long time patients had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer after having had a negative mammogram. She entered the exam room fraught with anxiety over her patient and began my exam. I also had a negative mammogram recently. When she found the lump she froze for a millisecond. Enough time for me to internally panic. She finished the exam, told me to get dressed and that she’d return momentarily.

When she came back in my room she had an order form in her hand that had me scheduled the same day for another mammogram, an ultrasound and a biopsy if indicated. Engage internal panic mode. I was fairly convinced that what I had was no longer a simple cyst. This particular provider is very conservative so her urgency to get me in that day freaked me right out.

I had to wait 5 hours until my appointment, I was very lucky to be able to be seen the same day, but the wait was agony; too much time to think. In my case, knowledge of the outcome was a very dangerous thing. I wished I was ignorant to the whole process; it may have been easier to endure the delay. I stayed at work trying to concentrate on the tasks on my desk hoping that they would squelch all the thoughts that were running through my head. It was mildly effective.

Once I got to the radiology center and was brought back to get undressed, my mind went into overdrive. I had convinced myself that after the visit I would be diagnosed with breast cancer. I would have the surgery and begin chemo and radiation. Would I be bald by the time my niece arrives in early March? What hat would I wear to the Billy Joel concert I’d be attending in Raleigh in March? Should I even keep my hair appointment for the following week? What would be the point of touching up roots that will no longer be there? Would I be one of the lucky ones who would kick cancer in its ass?

Twenty minutes of internal fatalism. It was brutal. Finally it was my turn to be seen. I was taken to the ultrasound room first. I was pretty sure my internal panic was just that, I wasn’t crying hysterically or anything, the very kind radiology tech knew I was upset and was trying to get my mind off the reason I was there. She was really great. I was positioned and the radiologist came in and began the test. Thankfully, my ailment was a cyst but not just one, five of them all concentrated to one location; thus making the lump an odd consistency.

I am very strong for friends and family when they have any type of ailments. I don’t take the fatalistic approach. I am strong and optimistic for everyone else. When it comes to me though I take the fatalistic outlook so that I can only be pleasantly surprised; I prepare myself for the worst thinking that will get me through. I don’t recommend that to anyone, it ages you.

Tis the Season to be Mean and Rude

I just returned from the Post Office where I foolishly thought I could get in and out in a few minutes. In my defense, I went at 10:30 am thinking the lunch time would definitely not be the best strategy.

When I arrived, I was greeted with a line almost out the door. Fourteen of Santa’s helpers were online patiently waiting their turn. Each had at least one package to send. No big deal, it’s the Holiday Season; even I can muster up some good cheer. I was there to pick up a package that needed a signature. It’s the one present my Dad will hopefully love and use, a rare thing for my Dad.

An older patron was at the counter wielding her scooter, she was told that she had to step out of line long enough to fill out some type of form because her package weighed more than one pound. She was also told that as soon as she completed the form, she could return to the counter. Right about that time, another postal worker asked the crowd if anyone was there to pick up mail only. Score!

I passed Santa’s Elves and produced my postal receipt and once I proved who I was, off she went to fetch my package. Scooter Woman rolled back to the counter and presented her form interrupting the transaction that was currently in action. Her postal worker, kindly and gently asked Scooter Woman to make sure that the multiple copy form she filled out was legible on the last page. It was not. Scooter Woman demanded something to write on rather than rolling back to her original location to complete the form. The postal worker told her she did not have anything.

Scooter Woman was not happy. She put the scooter into full speed and dangerously rolled back to the counter with such force that when she stopped she lunged forward and onto the floor. As a kind patron was attempting to help her back into her seat, she yelled at him and told him to back off. My package was brought to me. I had to pass the woman to leave the post office. I asked her if I could be of assistance and she barked at me also.

Whatever and a Happy Holidays to you too Scooter Woman.

Why is it that the Holiday’s bring out the absolute worst in some people?

The Epitome of UnProfessionalism

I am a specialty snob. Let me explain. I believe that if there is a medical specialist to handle a medical issue, I am going to seek them out. There is a reason certain specialties have much longer residency time frames. It takes years to hone a craft.

With that in mind, yesterday I went for my yearly Ophthalmology appointment. I purposely choose not to see an Optometrist. The woman that I see is very good and I have absolutely every confidence in her ophthalmology practices. While spending time in her waiting room, I found it odd that she had a loop video of the “Thredi-Lift” procedure. I now know that there is new fangled way to perform a face lift, it involves threading suture material right under your skin, pulling it upwards towards your scalp and then somehow anchoring the threads. Then presto, bingo you’ve got a facelift. Again, why this was being advertised in an ophthalmologist’s office was weird maybe only to me.

While in the exam room chair with my eyes fully dilated during mid exam, here is the conversation the doctor and I had:

Doc: You know Wicked, I do Botox injections.

Wicked: Excuse me?

Doc: Botox, it’s so worth it.

Wicked: Gee Doc, if I didn’t feel a little insecure about having to get a stronger eye glass prescription, your asking me if I wanted a botox injection sure did not do much for my self esteem.

Doc: Oh! Well, um….

Wicked: No offense to you Doc, but if I am going to seek any type of vanity procedure, I am going to go to a Board Certified Plastic Surgeon.

Needless to say, the topic of Botox went right out the window and she was stumbling all over her words until the end of the exam. Thankfully, I am not that vain when it comes to the aging process. It happens, I will color my hair to get rid of the grey but I really am not that worried about wrinkles. If you don’t like me the way I currently am, that is really your problem.

Dear Geezer in the Mini Van:

Although watching Pet Whisperer have a near meltdown because you were too stingy to want to pay the toll on the Greenway was mildly amusing, making us late for our 7:15 dinner reservation was not nice. Even though I don’t use the toll road all that often, I do know that during the weekends if you don’t own a smart tag exact cash is the way to go. If not, AVOID the toll road at all costs.

Geezer, your life was in jeopardy. Not only were you not paying the toll, you were arguing with the toll booth attendant who obviously did not have a good grasp of the English language. This may have been entertaining for you, not so much for me and Pet Whisperer who were directly behind you along with 6 vehicles behind us filled with your worst enemies. Perhaps you didn’t realize the cacophony of horns was in your honor. Maybe you’ve lost your sense of hearing as well as your obvious lack of common sense. I was going to wish that you had 4 flat tires upon my return, but I really don’t need that type of karma. A shout out to the supervisory toll booth attendant who wrestled you and your vehicle away from the booth so the rest of us could get on with our plans.

Geezer, in case you care, Pet Whisperer and I had a lovely dinner in historic Leesburg. Seafood prepared with an Italian flair and a new martini to add to our repertoire.

Friends, have you had a tiramisu martini? If not, why not? Get thee to a saloon toute de suite and tell them Wicked sent you.

Santa Unedited.....

I knew Santa and I had many things in common.


Dear Santa,

I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud boy all yeer.

yer Frend, BiLLy

Dear Billy,

Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about I
send you a friggin' book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving
your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!

Santa
____________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace
and joy in the world for everybody!

Love, Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?

Santa
_________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my
mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do?

Love, Teddy

Dear Teddy,

Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a
hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your
frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that
dream. Let me get you some nice Lego's instead.

Santa
__________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I want a new bike, a Play station, a train, some G. I. Joe's, a dog, a
drum kit, a pony and a tuba.

Love, Francis

Dear Francis,

Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays? I bet you're gay, I'll set you
up with a Barbie.

Santa
_________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for
or your reindeer outside the back door.

Love, Susan

Dear Susan,

Milk gives me the runs and carrots make the deer fart in my face when
riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a bottle of
scotch.

Santa
________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?

Your friend, Thomas

Dear Thomas,

All the toys are made in China. I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend
most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking
my self silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while
losing money at the craps table. Hey, you wanted to know.

Santa
________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake,
like in the song?

Love, Jessica

Dear Jessica,

Are you really that gullible or are you just a blonde? Good luck in
whatever you do. I'm skipping your house.

Santa
_______________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE
PLEASE could I have one?

Timmy

Timmy,

That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't
work with me. You're getting a sweater again.

Santa
________________________________________________________________
Dearest Santa,

We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?

Love, Marky

Mark,

First, stop calling yourself "Marky", that's why you're getting your ass
whipped at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a
low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like the
boogeyman does, through your bedroom window. Sweet dreams!

Santa

The Sign of a Good Soiree

There will be a shindig at my house Friday night. A bunch of friends from work and their significant others, what’s the big deal I often entertain for fifteen.

Yesterday an e-mail was sent around as to who was binging what, the menu looks pretty good. There was one item that I wasn’t expecting but I will not turn down.

“J” is bringing drinks and batteries.

Hello! Well then, it is bound to be a great time now!

Don’tcha wish you were going to be there too?

Maybe next time.

When Only Laughter Will Get You Through the Day

(Not intended to offend anyone; Catholic, dwarf, nor penguin)

The seven dwarfs go to the Vatican, and because they are the seven
dwarfs, they are ushered in to see the Pope. Dopey leads the pack.

Dopey, my son," says the Pope, "what can I do for you?"

Dopey asks, "Excuse me your Excellency, but are there any dwarf nuns
in Rome?"

The Pope wrinkles his brow at the odd question, thinks for a moment
and answers, "No, Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in Rome."

In the background a few of the dwarfs start giggling.

Dopey turns around and gives them a glare, silencing them.

Dopey turns back. "Your Worship, are there any dwarf nuns in all of
Europe?"

The Pope, puzzled now, again thinks for a moment and then answers,
"No, Dopey, there are no dwarf nuns in Europe."

This time, all of the other dwarfs burst into laughter.

Once again, Dopey turns around and silences them, with an angry
glare.

Dopey turns back and says, "Mr. Pope! Are there ANY dwarf nuns
anywhere in the world?"

I'm sorry, my son, there are no dwarf nuns anywhere in the world."

The other dwarfs collapse into a heap, rolling and laughing, pounding
the floor, tears rolling down their cheeks, as they begin chanting......

"Dopey screwed a penguin!"
"Dopey screwed a penguin!”

Say NO to Crack

At the end of the Spa getaway, BS and I went on down the Ocean to visit Mama and Papa Bear. They made their annual Autumnal trek to the beach time share.

Forget that their condo was neither ocean front nor aesthetically pleasing, sometimes you just have to roll with it. We decided to surprise them while they were at the Beach. We just showed up, found the place they were staying and called them on their cell phone to let them know they had a flat tire. It was the only way we could think of to get them to come to the balcony/window of the unit they were in. That’s how we roll.

Once our surprise was appreciated we went off to dinner. Off season, there weren’t many choices but BS took the initiative to be proactive and did some research online and we decided on a restaurant that was much further than 2 minutes from where they were staying. Blasphemous according to Papa Bear, but he was out numbered.

When we arrived back to the time share, we encountered a couple of other guests. A rather strange duo of men; one was clearly mentally challenged and the other was temporarily physically challenged. They were both huddled near the elevator, one was trying to navigate his new crutches the other offering moral support. We were all at the elevator at the same time. Once the lift arrived, I asked the duo if they wanted to board first as there would be no way for all of us to ride together. Crutch Man stated that we should go ahead as he was still trying to get around.

We were happily ensconced in the time share enjoying Dancing with the Stars when BS’s cell started to ring. I don’t remember what the urgency of the call was but BS felt like she needed to step out of the time share to be able to handle the “crisis” at home. Since my parents are in their 80’s the TV is usually viewed at the highest level of sound as possible.

BS stepped into the hallway of the time share when she was greeted with the ass crack of Crutch Man. It seems that Crutch Man and his friend decided it would be easier if he rode on a luggage cart rather than learn how to use the crutches. What BS encountered was Crutch Man trying to step off the cart just as she was opening the door.

From the sound of her exclamation, it was not a sight to behold. She quickly slammed the door shut and went out onto the balcony to asses the cell phone situation.

Self-Imposed Jail Sentence After Larceny, Film at Eleven

My furry nephew is one smart dog. Nobody can deny it. Usually when I call over to my furry nephew’s house, I always receive a detailed misbehavior report, without fail. I won’t go into the countless times I have defended Google’s actions and equally how many times his immediate family tells me he is the devil incarnate.

Here is the latest. While my BIL was out front of the mcmansion raising Old Glory, he left the front door open so that Google could pay his respects to the flag. My BIL was puzzled as to why the devil dog was not out with him causing trouble.

When BIL went back inside, Google was nowhere to be found. BIL looked high and low sure that once he was discovered, Google would be in trouble. It turns out that while BIL was raising the flag Google laid at the threshold of the door on an air vent. Google’s name tag apparently got caught on the vent when he stood back up. Because he is frequently sent to his crate, he passed go and went directly to jail awaiting his sentence.

This is what BIL found:


Good boy Google! I am very sure he was let out on good behavior this time

The Art of Procurement

While getting for work today, I saw the reports of the crazed Black Friday shoppers lined up in cold, damp weather waiting for the early bird specials. Police have been dispatched to keep these people from injuring one another while waiting on line.

I simply don’t get it. What is the draw? I understand that there are some super deals out there but they must know that each store is only going to have five 50 inch plasma televisions available. Supply and demand, I get that too.

Seriously folks, have you tried online shopping? Right now all items are shipped for free to the comfort of your home or office. Plenty of deals to be found on the internets try it.

Stop the madness or at least give me a legitimate reason. I’ll be at work waiting with baited breath for an explanation.

For the love of Santa, be careful out there. Remember, He knows who has been naughty and who has been nice.

Happy Thanksgiving

Try to remember those less fortunate. I don't want to hear any of you getting arrested on Black Friday. What good are the deals if you end up in a body cast? Chill people, spread cheer. Make sure you reserve your spot on the couch or recliner for the inevitable tryptophan coma.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

I leave you with a Holiday poem. Those of you who get Friday off, good for you. I'll be back at the salt mines.

T for time to be together, turkey, talk, and tangy weather.
H for harvest stored away, home, and hearth, and holiday.
A for autumn's frosty art, and abundance in the heart.
N for neighbors, and November, nice things, new things to remember.
K for kitchen, kettles' croon, kith and kin expected soon.
S for sizzles, sights, and sounds, and something special that abounds.
That spells ~~~THANKS---for joy in living and a jolly good Thanksgiving.

By Aileen Fisher

Conversation Stopper

“Schmucks are people too!”

Indeed.

Discuss.

Conciliate

Families, you can’t live with them but you can certainly blog about them. In case there are any of you who want to dodge the whole season of family get gatherings, my father has officially cancelled Thanksgiving this year.

Obviously there is a story behind the situation, here we go. It seems BS has pissed off the scheduling Gods at work and has to work the entire Turkey Day weekend including the holiday itself. We usually gather at her mcmansion. It is convenient for everyone but myself, but as the middle kid I am the peacekeeper.

Since she is working, I offered up my place this year. I figured Gestational Countessa would spend the actual day with her in-laws, the other BIL and Sous Chef Mermaid at his first daughter's home. I suggested that we gather at my place on Saturday. My parents were thrilled. I knew that original BIL probably wouldn’t make the trip so my parents offered to bring Sous Chef Mermaid to my home. Before we could even contact Gestational Countessa to see if that fit into her and Uncle Fun’s schedule, BS told my parents that she did not want them traversing the Beltway on the most traveled holiday. She told them that they could only travel via Metro.

As you can imagine, that went over like a lead balloon. I agree that my father shouldn’t navigate the crazy traffic on the Beltway anymore, I was hoping they would have ridden with Countessa and Uncle Fun. Instead, my father cancelled Thanksgiving on the spot. End of discussions.

Yesterday, we had a makeshift Thanksgiving at the mcmansion. BS called to let me know that a leg of lamb had mysteriously been accidentally defrosted and that she was hosting a family dinner Sunday evening. I guess she didn’t think I would make the trip out there but after realizing that we were not having Thanksgiving, I whipped up a couple of desserts and made the trek. As always the food was great and the company even better. I am glad I went.

This year I decided I would volunteer at a soup kitchen or mission for Thanksgiving. What are the rest of you doing

Bite Me

Once upon a time, when I was a big deal practice administrator for 5 clinics I had to hold the hand of a less than competent female physician. The worst kind of physician there is, one who is not only narcissistic but also lazy. Several times I wanted to remind this woman of the meaning behind the Hippocratic Oath but you know I just wasn’t getting paid enough.

It was a Monday morning post call for her; we were in East Jesus NC a microscopic town. A town where being on call might mean your beeper buzzed maybe 4 times the entire weekend if you went to the hospital and rounded on your inpatients. Keep in mind the hospital only has 30 beds. Microscopic. As I was entering the clinic with my arms full of stuff, I hadn’t even crossed the threshold before her incessant whining began. Lazy Doc had an audience and she liked to throw her weight around.

She told me that someone kept calling her beeper all weekend long at all hours of the night. This someone was looking for someone else; he had the wrong number and much free time on his hands. She wanted me to tell her, how this person came across the number and what I was going to do to fix it. All the while crowding me at the threshold of the clinic entrance while waving her finger in my face; I have yet to ingest even a drop of coffee.

I always find that the best defense is an offense so I tried to sound empathetic. I told her that I would find out who this person was and try to figure out how the number was obtained. In the meantime, I would give her another beeper with a new number and I would take care of letting all involved know what the new number was. I then tried to take the final step that would land me thoroughly in the clinic.

She got right into my face and demanded to know what I was going to tell this man who ruined her weekend. I replied, “I am going to tell him to bite me for inconveniencing you.”

It was my last act as practice administrator at that particular location and boy was it worth it. Why my last? She reported back to the COO that I told her to bite me. Not true but it didn’t matter. Yes, I still proudly use the statement but I make sure the recipient is mature enough to handle it.

Crispy

My parents and electronic equipment do not get along. It’s a generational thing, my parents are not stupid just not technologically savvy. Nor do they care to be, they claim that is one of many reasons they produced children.

For the longest time after receiving a state of the art answering machine for Christmas one year, the outgoing message was “the button is flashing but nothing is happening, maybe we should just wait for Wicked to drop by and we can….beep.” On the plus side, the telemarketers didn’t leave messages for a while.

My dad has a computer and until last year he had a dial up connection. We and he figured why waste the money if he wasn’t going to play with the computer. He gradually increased his surfing abilities and last year we got him a years DSL connection and the largest and most affordable monitor. Dad has set the font of his computer to the largest type possible and the standard monitor could not handle the display. Whatever makes him happy, always our motto.

Yesterday I got a call from my B-I-L. He asked me if I had heard from my dad and his tone was weird. My thoughts immediately jumped towards illness or injury and I replied that I hadn’t. BIL took a deep breath, my heart stopped, and he said I think Dad has killed the computer. OH MY GOD. Stop the presses. While I was trying to get my heart rate back to normal speed, BIL gave me the strange details.

To make a long story short, the power source has fried the CPU. BIL has taken it upon himself to do the research to get dad a new computer for Christmas. Sounds good to me, I had purchased the last one. Hopefully the crispy critter did not also kill the monitor.

Note to self, remind BIL to deliver any news about my parents in a less dramatic way. Another note to self, chill out!

Nickel Slots

On a recent trip down memory lane, my older sister the brain surgeon recounted a hilarious tale. The three of us, me, BS and Sous Chef Mermaid, had gone to Old Towne to spend the afternoon. We were taking a Starbucks break and enjoying the day, each others company and reminiscing.

I would like to qualify this story by making it very clear that I wasn’t even born when this story took place. I am completely in the clear. My parents had a child once every eight years, to this day I am not sure if this was the original plan or just fate.

BS was probably elementary school age when this occurred. During a shopping excursion to Thomas’ Market, BS got a little bored while riding in the back seat of the family car a 57-Chrysler New Yorker. Apparently, this model had a cigarette lighter for the back seat passengers. BS was playing with the lighter when she had an epiphany. She figured out that a nickel would fit perfectly into the lighter’s opening. So she tried it, she even managed to get the nickel all the way to the base of the opening. What she didn’t know was that the nickel triggered the mechanism and it became red hot. She realized that what she did was wrong but didn’t know how to correct the problem. In the meantime, the nickel was producing smoke. BS decided that cracking her window might help the situation. My father has a strong aversion to drafts, so when he heard the air coming in from the rear window he told her to roll the window back up. In the meantime, the smoke is getting thicker. BS is fanning and blowing the smoke away. The entire mechanism is getting quite warm and the portion of the seat panel that the lighter is affixed to is now also smoldering.

It was right about then that my father noticed the back seat was on fire. He immediately pulled over while simultaneously trying to hold things together. He is not well known for holding things together when it affects his family directly. BS reports that he was frantically yelling at our mom that the car was on fire and that everyone needed to evacuate as soon as they pulled over.

The details are fuzzy, but I believe that during the smoldering session the nickel also shorted out the lighter. Another driver stopped to help. They managed to contain the fire and the good Samaritan also pulled the fuse for the lighter.

So friends, where there is smoke there is also usually fire. So many other things could have gone wrong that day but thankfully the damage was small, considering. Lessons to be learned? Try to have fun activities for your children while riding in the car or science experiments are bound to happen.

Do NOT try this at home.

Dear Lady Driving the Red Blazer

Seriously. If you cannot navigate your vehicle, trying to back up into a parking space while on the phone is not a good idea. I do not know of any other driver who would have the patience to wait for you to perform the multiple odd maneuvers it takes for you to park. Six tries to back into a space is a bit excessive.

Here is a novel idea, get off the phone, use your body and turn to see where you are going, also the mirrors on the side are also used for navigation as well as touching up your makeup and hair. Although it is quite entertaining to watch this action every day from my office window, the other individuals trying to get to work by simply pulling into their parking spot are alleging forces to harm you and your vehicle.

I am trying to help you out. Consider this your one and only warning.

Now I Know

Every time I see a news report of vehicles being swept away in raging flood waters, I used to think how stupid does someone have to be to try and drive through a body water that should not be there.

I found out the almost tragic way. I am sharing my tale so that none of you will attempt this yourselves. I highly do not recommend it.

I, and thousands of others, take a very scenic windy route to get to work. Originally this route was not designed for the amount of traffic it currently receives. When it mists this route floods those of us who drive it know it. The potholes on the perimeter never get patched because invariably this road is always moist.

Yesterday morning, after an evening of steady rain, I headed out to work. I even listened to the warnings of my weatherman who said due to the fallen leaves the flooding possibilities were much higher than usual. I decided I would head out in my normal course and surely the road would be blocked off by authorities if the situation was dire.

I was wrong. I got to the section of the road that usually is problematic. Yesterday it was underwater, completely. Yet traffic was forging ahead. Thankfully, we were crawling along. Otherwise, me and my SUV would have been floating into the abyss. Instead, the Lexus in front me who tried navigating the waters at full speed ended up floating into the abyss and I caused a very big wave which enabled him further into the gorge.

Stupid is as stupid does. I have learned my lesson.

Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey Hey……

Goodbye...Mr Rumsfeld.

As they say in the South, " don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you."

Enough Already

Thank goodness Election Day has finally arrived. I know that the nasty advertisement campaign is nothing new but seriously, I have had enough.

I’d like to think our voting public is a bit more sophisticated than using only the television commercials to make their decision. Surely we are better than that. Are you with me?

I honestly don’t want to know who you vote for, just please go out and vote. Remember, I will not put up with any of your complaints if I have found out you did not cast a vote.

This is Wicked H and I approve of this post. (Sorry, had to do it)

And another thing, do the people stalking the polling places honestly believe the piece of paper they shove into my hands is going to sway my decision? Hello? I am at the polling place; chances are I have already made up my mind. Just because your flyer is a pretty color will not change my mind. Give us voters more than a little credit.

Sheesh, this exercising your Constitutional Right is exhausting business.

Go. VOTE!

To Tantrum or Not, That is the Question

Schools must be out today because our waiting room is choc full of kids. They seem to be enjoying our play area except for one young tyke who is in full tantrum mode. I can hear him clearly through my office door which is closed. He exclaims over and over again “I just DON’T WANT TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Alrighty then.

This brings me to my attempt at getting my way via tantrum. It wasn’t pretty and it was completely ineffective. I was probably six years old. I was accompanying my mom on one of our thousands of shopping excursions. I don’t remember exactly what was up my ass that particular day but I clearly remember lying on the floor in the middle of the cosmetic aisle in JC Penney. My arms were flailing, my legs kicking and my voice annoyingly high pitched and whining. It took my mom all of two seconds to straddle me. She bent down towards me, gave me the glare of doom and in a haunting whisper told me that if I didn’t get up and right now I would die very quickly.

You do not fool around with the trifecta glare, whisper and threat of death. I never, ever tried that approach again. Not being a parent, I am interested in knowing what other tactics are out there. Feel free to elaborate.

In the meantime, I went out to the reception area to see what Mr. Tantrum was wigged out about, it seems the tantrum has passed. He is happily sitting near the castle in the waiting room with many toys strategically positioned around him. Ah, nirvana.

A Little Help, Please

I haven’t been to Starbucks in a while. Unless it’s a drive through, I really cannot be bothered. It’s all about convenience. Anyway, I have frequented the place several times in the last month and I have a question.

How exactly does one make a hot beverage, hotter? This is a serious question. While I was in Old Towne, the yuppie ahead of me emphatically asked for her hot chocolate to be extra hot. Then when I was in “shi-shi” spa land, an inflammation scientist asked for his latte to be extra hot. Most recently, I grabbed a pumpkin spice latte and the gentleman behind me reminded the Barista to make sure his blah-di-blah-blah was extra hot.

What gives? By what method are the Baristas making things hotter? If you know, fill me in. I am just not brave enough to upset the Zen tide of the inside of a Starbucks with what might be a stupid question. Also, if they are able to make the beverage hotter, do we have to sign a legal form which keeps us from being able to start litigation if the liquid is beyond its boiling point?

I thank you in advance for the information.

Inflammation and the International Conference Thereof

During our “shi-shi” spa retreat, we encountered an entire scientific international conference dedicated to the study of inflammation. Mind blowing isn’t it. (Those of you with your minds in the gutter, please take a moment to get it out of your systems)

We realized this gold mine while on the courtesy shuttle that was taking us to our parked car. You see, my sister (BS) and I are made of sugar and we thought we might melt in the pelting rain; ergo, the need for the shuttle. The other passenger on the shuttle was a lovely woman from Queens who was so excited to be able to spend the afternoon at Wal-Mart. They must grow them crazy in Queens. I cannot believe anyone would come all the way from NY to be happy to shop in Wal-Mart while attending a conference. Because BS is way more sociable than me, she inquired as to what type of conference the lady from Queens was attending. I thought I heard her say inflammation, BS thought she said information. By then we were at our car and I didn’t much care.

We went off to lunch and watched the Queens conference lady dodge 4 lanes of traffic in the deluge and make her way to Wal-Mart. Whatever. We returned from lunch, parked the car back in the lot and decided to cut through the conference center of the hotel to avoid most of the rain.

We entered the Inflammation Highway (pun most certainly intended). The entire place was decked out with scientific evidence of all things inflamed. I am not sure why but BS and I found this hysterical. I am pretty sure the scientists representing more nations than I can even point out on a globe, were not amused by our exhilaration. They were even less thrilled that we were trying to figure out how to lift any type of chachki available on the exhibition tables.

Theorems proven during this discovery? The scientists who study inflammation have zero sense of humor. Their trinkets were not worth the effort. Each time we spoke of the international conference dedicated to the study of inflammation, we laughed like hyenas. Of course the martinis may have played into the empirical evidence as well.

Whine Free Wednesday

Okay, you guys may not understand what an accomplishment this is, but so far I have yet to whine about any work related topic today. I think it may be the beginning of a trend. The whole make my life better pact, still in force.

What makes this particular Wednesday memorable is that it coincides with the end of the month number crunch which usually sets my peeps into a tailspin. I am bound and determined to not let it get to me this month.

Perhaps we can celebrate this day next year. Wicked’s whine free Wednesday!

Keep your fingers crossed. My co-workers have way more faith in me than I do. They think I can go the whole day.

We shall see, keep the cheese ready just in case.

Halloween Gone Awry

These are hysterical.







Have a safe and fun Halloween.

Monday, Monday

If ignorance is bliss,then I am in the vicinity of more than one euphoric plebeian. Even one is too many.

Oh. Joy.

Excuse me while I channel my former serene self. It is going to be one of those weeks.

So, how is your day so far?

Life Cycle

(I received this in a mass e-mail. No idea who the original author is, but it made me chuckle.)

Happy Friday kids, enjoy!

I think the life cycle is all backwards

You should start out dead and get it out of the way.

Then, you wake up in an old age home feeling better every day.

You get kicked out for being too healthy; go collect your pension,
then when you start work, you get a gold watch on your first day.

You work 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement.

You drink alcohol, you party, you're generally promiscuous and you
get ready for High School.

You go to primary school, you become a kid , you play, you have no
responsibilities, you become a baby, and then...
You spend your last 9 months floating peacefully in luxury, in
spa-like conditions; central heating, room service on tap, larger
quarters every day, and then, you finish off as an orgasm.

I rest my case !

So Very Original

To the gentleman who asked me if I could get good radio reception with all the foils in my hair last night, ha ha.

Extra points though for telling me I look fantastic after it was all done and styled.

The energy beauty takes. Is it really worth it? If it makes you feel good, then Hell yes

"Maryland, My Marlyand"

(Disclaimer: not sure if it's real but I like what this guy has to say)

Becoming Illegal (From a Maryland resident to his senator)

The Honorable Paul S. Sarbanes
Senate Office Building
309 Hart
Washington DC, 20510

Dear Senator Sarbanes,

As a native Marylander and excellent customer of the Internal Revenue Service, I am writing to ask for your assistance. I have contacted the Department of Homeland Security in an effort to determine the process for becoming an illegal alien and they referred me to you.

My primary reason for wishing to change my status from U.S. Citizen to illegal alien stem from the bill which was recently passed by the Senate and for which you voted. If my understanding of this bill's provisions is accurate, as an illegal alien who has been in the United Statesfor five years, all I need to do to become a citizen is to pay a $2,000 fine and income taxes for three of the last five years. I know a good deal when I see one and I am anxious to get the proce ss sta rted before everyone figures it out.

Simply put, those of us who have been here legally have had to pay taxes every year so I'm excited about the prospect of avoiding two years of taxes in return for paying a $2,000 fine. Is there any way that I can apply to be illegal retroactively? This would yield an excellent result for me and my family because we paid heavy taxes in 2004 and 2005.

Additionally, as an illegal alien I could begin using the local emergency room as my primary health care provider. Once I have stopped paying premiums for medical insurance, my accountant figures I could save almost $10,000 a year.

Another benefit in gaining illegal status would be that my daughter would receive preferential treatment relative to her law school applications, as well as "in-state" tuition rates for many colleges throughout the United States for my son.

Lastly, I understand that illegal status would relieve me of the burden of renewing my driver's license and making those burdensome car insurance premiums. This is very important to me given that I still have college age children driving my car.

If you would provide me with an outline of the process to become illegal (retroactively if possible) and copies of the necessary forms, I would be most appreciative. Thank you for your assistance.

Your Loyal Constituent,

Pete XXXXXX

Spinning Wheel

Okay. If the Hispanic gentleman does not stop walking around in a figure eight pattern while on his cell phone, I am going to have to ask him to have his conversation somewhere else.

It is quite distracting watching him walking around with one hand securely positioning the cell phone to his ear while the other hand is flapping around punctuating his sentences. Even better, the figure eight starts on the sidewalk and ends up in the parking lot. The UPS man almost took him out with the big brown truck.

At least it is happening in front of a business of healing.

Relaxation Report

I have to say that there is something to this whole holistic mind, body and soul stuff. I have been a non-believer for so long. Partly due to the fact that I don’t have the disposable income required to be a holistic groupie.

I can honestly say that the remnants of my massages from last week are still at work. Even though I worked all weekend to catch up from my Ohm trip, I am remembering to keep my shoulders down and relaxed, minor gaffs found over the weekend were greeted with shrugs rather than anger and I fit three exercise routines into my schedule while at home.

So far the pact I’ve made with myself is still in full force. Even I am surprised by it all.

Anyway, I have found only ¼ of a corner of my desk. The major dent has been made in the work load and I hope to resume normal everything by the end of business today.

Hope you all had a lovely weekend. Mine looked lovely through my office window.

Namaste…..

Ah……

Not even the gazillion piles of work related detritus on what used to be my brown desk cannot bring me out of my relaxed, Spa zone; much to write about kids but right now work prevails.

Hope you all have a good Friday. If it makes you all feel any better, I’ll be spending the weekend here in the office. So t2ed and Miss Britt, you were both right. There is hell to pay upon my return.

Thanks for all the comments, nice and envious. I will address them all later.

Back to the grind.

The Jig is Up, the Word is Out

Well not really but I thought it was a catchy title.

As you can see the edges are beginning to crack. I am headed off to the land of beautiful foliage and men in loin cloths who will simultaneously be peeling grapes and fanning my stressed out self with big ole palm leaves. (Those of you with minds in the gutter…this is why I love you!).

Some where also in the agenda is a Best Mates Escape where we will be massaged hopefully by the dudes mentioned above preferably still in their loin cloths. It would be a real bummer if it were Olga and Helga twins from the Soviet Union. You know sometimes you just can’t be picky.

Stress kills. This evening,I am off to kick stress in the proverbial balls. Try not to miss me too much.

Peace. Out. Ohmmmmm

Dear Highly Impatient and Agitative Manassas Cracker Barrel Patron:

Listen Lady, it is entirely conceivable that you are not from the area. If that is the case, you really have a bad sense of reading a situation. Let me see if I can give you a few pointers useful during your next visit. If you are from this area, then your tactic obviously did not work, you need to be more creative for next time.

Pretty much any eating establishment in the Northern Virginia area is going to have a lengthy waiting list starting around Happy Hour Thursday night and right through the Sunday evening meal. Don’t like crowds or waiting? Stay home. Perhaps fast food establishments were invented for a person such as yourself.

Badgering the barely English speaking hostess who is simply trying to earn a living announcing whose party is ready and who is soon to be on deck is not a productive measure. Repeating yourself at a decibel louder than the back ground noise also counter productive. Pointing your finger at her while exclaiming that you have a child asleep in the car and need to know the exact second your table will be ready will only get you pushed back further on the list.

Our hostess knew enough English to call off the names as the manager pointed to them on the list. Did the hostess have a thick accent which made simple names unrecognizable? Absolutely. Arguing with her as to the time of your party’s placement on the list versus the amount of time you’ve been waiting also futile. Standing there glaring at her while she made fun of you in her native tongue to the rest of her compadres, priceless.

Lady we are all hungry, we have memorized the inventory of the store in an attempt to waste time while waiting for our name to be called, the weather was a bit chilly to be seated in the comfy rockers and some of us were getting claustrophobic. Welcome to our world. Patience is a virtue. Learn to deal or become a hermit and let the rest of us enjoy our waiting and dining experience.

Wishing you much luck in this crazy, crowded world.

Sincerely - Wicked H

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

The morbid fear of Friday the 13th; I can honestly say it has never bothered me.

If there is a 13 step program for those of you (pun gloriously intended) I am happy to donate something. Although if some of you are so crippled with anxiety that it keeps you off the roads during rush hour, I say embrace your fear.

For the rest of us, TGIF!!!

Vulnerable Camaraderie

There is an unspoken anxiety while sitting in the mammogram suite waiting room. Obviously, it’s predominantly filled with women. Men do come in with their respective significant others but they somehow know to leave once she’s checked in. As we all wait to be called back to the changing area we do not overtly reveal to one another that we are all nervous on some level. Each time the door leading to the changing rooms opens, every woman flinches. I noticed today that some also flinch when their names are called others take in a deep breath.

We are sent to an ante room where there are individual dressing rooms which then opens up into another waiting area where we are all stripped of our clothing from the waist up wearing the exam gowns with the opening left in the front. Some of us have tied every strap available to remain modest. Others simply have the gown gathered like a bathrobe with our arms folded across our chests.

It is in this room where we engage one another. We make eye contact, we nod and smile. Here is where if you need reassurance, the rest of us are here to help. I took note that none of the women in the ante waiting room looked as though they were going through any type of treatment. Maybe it was a coincidence that all were there for screening only. We all were extremely grateful for that.

One by one a different tech calls us to the vice and when we are done, we return to the ante room. We are instructed not to get dressed until our tech returns to let us know that the preliminary pictures are satisfactory. Great, more angst but me and my comrades dressed in gowns will endure. We each tell the other that hopefully our results will be good enough to let us go back to our normal routine for that day. Once we are all cleared, we get dressed, wish each other good luck and carry on.

Ladies, get your mammograms. Yes, it is uncomfortable; sometimes downright painful. It certainly beats the alternative.

Rules of the Road in the Washington D.C. Metro Area

(Disclaimer: don’t know who the original author is but he or she is brilliance on a stick - enjoy)

First, you must learn to call it by its rightful name. It is called
D.C., or the "District." Only tourists call it Washington.

Next, if your road map of Montgomery County is more than a few weeks old,
throw it away and buy a new one. It's obsolete. If in Loudoun or Fairfax
County and your road map is one day old, it's already obsolete.

There is no such thing as a dangerous high speed chase in D.C. It's just
another chase, usually on the BW Parkway.

All directions start with "The Beltway" which has no beginning and no
end, just one continuous loop that locals believe is somehow clarified by an
"inner" and "outer loop" designation. This makes no sense to ANYONE outside
the Beltway.

The morning rush hour is from 5 to 11 AM. The evening rush hour is from
1 to 8 PM. Friday's rush hour starts Thursday morning, especially during
the summer on Route 50 eastbound.

If there is a ball game at the Redskins stadium, there is no point in
driving anywhere near PG County. Tip: Never say PG County to anyone from
Mitchellville, Upper Marlboro or Fort Washington. They'll blow a vessel in
their neck and go into a seizure.

If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear-ended and shot
at. If you run the red light, be sure to smile for the $100 "picture" you
will receive courtesy of DMV. (However, if you don't go as soon as the
light turns green, you will get cussed out in 382 languages, none of them
English.)

Rain causes an immediate 50 point drop of IQ in drivers. Snow causes an
immediate 100 point drop in IQ and a stampede to the local Giant for bread,
milk and toilet paper.

Construction on I-270 is a way of life and a permanent source of scorn
and cynical entertainment. It's ironic that it's called an Interstate, but
runs only from Bethesda to Frederick (unless you consider Montgomery County
another state, which some do). Opening in the 60's, it has been torn up and
under reconstruction ever since. Also, it has a "Spur" section which is
even more confusing.

All unexplained sights are explained away by the phrase, "Oh, we're inTakoma Park".

If someone actually has his turn signal on, he is by definition, a
tourist.

Car horns are actually "Road Rage" indicators. Heed the warning.

All old ladies in Buicks have the right of way in the area of Leisure
World.

Many roads mysteriously change their names as you cross intersections.
Don't ask why, no one knows. If asking directions in Arlington, Langley
Park, Wheaton or Adams Morgan; you must know how to speak Spanish. In
Annandale, a Cambodian or Vietnamese dialect will come in handy. If on
Dupont Circle, Capital Hill or U Street; a gay dialect helps. If you stop
to ask directions in Southeast... well just don't.

A taxi ride across town will cost you $12.50. A taxi ride two blocks
will cost you $16.75. (It's a zone thing, you wouldn't understand.)

Traveling south out of DC on Interstate 395/95 is the most dangerous,
scariest thing you will ever do. There is nothing more frightening than
seven lanes of traffic cruising along at 85 mph, BUMPER TO BUMPER!!!

The minimum acceptable speed on the Beltway is 85. Anything less is
considered downright sissified. The Beltway is our daily version of a
NASCAR reality show. Strap up and collect points as you go.

The open lane for passing on all Maryland interstates is the far right
lane because no self-respecting Marylander would ever be caught driving in
the "slow" lane. Unofficially, both shoulders are fair game as well.

The far left lanes on all Maryland interstates are official "chat" lanes
reserved for drivers who wish to talk on their cell phones. Note: All
mini-vans have priority clearance to use the far left at whatever speed the
driver feels most comfortable multi-tasking in.

If it's 10 degrees, it's Orioles' opening day. If it's 110 degrees, it's
the Skins opening day.

If the humidity is 90+ and the temperature is 90+, then it's May, June,
July, August and sometimes even September.

If you go to a Skins football game, pay the $75.00 to park in the stadium
lot. It's cheaper than getting towed or a citation. By law, you're notallowed to walk on the "public" roads around the stadium during game days

One Benefit of not Being a Government Worker

No traffic on federal holidays. Sweet.

The other benefit? We in the medical business get to serve you all on your holidays. The waiting room is jam packed with those of you with the day off.

For the rest of you, I better see at least a 100 word post about the significance of Columbus and his travels. A copy of the receipts for all the purchases made on the elusive Columbus Day sales will also suffice.

Happy Columbus Day!

Marathoners in Training

Two of my best friends are gearing up for the Army 10 Mile race this weekend. I cannot tell you how impressed I am with them both. One is a seasoned runner, the other decided to take on the challenge. They have both been training for well over 6 months.

I will try to be there to cheer them on; I have been given specific tasks in order to help them complete the race:

I will be riding on a motorized scooter, holding a Bud Light which will be affixed to the end of a stick. I will chant over and over to them “RUN TOWARDS THE LIGHT!!!!”

Should either of them need medical attention, which we are not predicting but you know just in case, I am to find the most attractive Army medical person to take care of them. I will give him orders to perform mouth to mouth and breast exams. It is Breast Cancer Awareness month after all.

At the end of the race, I am to have a cooler filled with Bud Light for one and a dirty martini ready for the other.

Good luck ladies!!! You can do it. I have complete confidence in you!!!!!

Disconcerting

Now that I have a room with a view, I can witness the goings on in the work hood.

Would anyone else out there feel a tad uncomfortable if the same fire truck loaded with firefighters waiting to get to an emergency kept circling the complex? It’s been 25 minutes! One would hope that each time a new office complex gets built, the first people in the know would be the emergency responders.

If you will excuse me, I am going outside to offer some directional assistance.

19th Anniversary of my 25th Birthday

I am really not bothered with the number; 44. I’m okay with it.

There are more days that I don’t feel my age and then of course days I feel 84. I am willing to bet anyone one of us could make that statement. Many people who guess my age are always way off towards much smaller numbers. Either they are being very polite, I really don’t look my age or they have cataracts. At my age, I will take any type of compliment I can get.

I have been making pacts with myself recently. I have discovered that I need to make one more. I need to let go of the fact that my family cannot seem to organize something for my birthday without my involvement. I am not a difficult person to buy or arrange a gathering for; it’s that my family is inept when it comes to organization. Maybe I am difficult. I find that if I am the one who has to organize my own birthday celebration, it really sucks the fun out of it. No matter, next year I will not let this bother me.

It’s been a good birthday so far, the Redskins and the Raven’s won on Sunday, the weather could not be more beautiful, 15 of my friends will be gathering at my place Friday night to celebrate and a group of us are going out for steamed crabs tonight.

Life is good!


(Proof of my natural love of the Beach. Down the Ocean circa May 1963)

Buzzard Luck

The following took place about 15 years ago, back when I began assisting a general surgeon.

A buxom, 50 year old woman was involved in a motor vehicle accident resulting in a terrible breast contusion. When she hit the brakes, her seatbelt locked as it should and when the force of the accident propelled her body forward, her right breast suffered in the process. She came to our office for treatment of the breast contusion. She was an E cup and the entire breast was one huge bruise. Each week she would come in so that we could stick a rather large needle into her breast and draw off as much of the bloody serum as possible. Believe it or not, this actually relieved some of her pain.

By the fourth week of treatment the three of us became good friends. The woman was so comfortable with us that she began telling us the best stories during her treatment. She told us that if she didn’t have buzzard luck, she’d have none at all. To his credit, the surgeon was quite good at his specialty and Ms. Buzzard Luck barely knew when the needle was in her breast.

During her last appointment, the office was a little crazed which resulted in her having to wait a bit before I could get into the exam room to chaperone and assist. After the third time I stuck my head into to room to let her know the Doctor and I would be right there, she told me to send him on in. She was in no need of a chaperone, she trusted the surgeon. To which I replied, “honey it’s not you I am worried about. I am afraid you may molest the good doctor.”

As the Doctor and I finally entered the room, Ms. Buzzard Luck stated that she was sad that she wouldn’t see us again. We replied in kind and told her to stop by any time she was in the neighborhood. A week later she sent us a beautifully framed picture of the ugliest buzzard I have ever seen. The note on the card read: Thank you to the Doc and his Bodyguard.



October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and is dedicated to increasing awareness of breast cancer issues, especially the importance of early detection. It works through a nationwide education campaign aimed at the general public, state and federal governments, health care professionals, employers, and women of all ages and ethnic groups. Please remind all the women in your lives to perform self breast exams regularly. If caught early, breast cancer can be beaten.

Furry Parenting 301

It seems my furry nephew has been a little more than mischievous this weekend.

He apparently got into my sister’s work bag. She had placed the remaining personalized M&Ms from her birthday party in her back pack. The satchel is kept in an area that Google is not supposed to roam. Shifty devil that he is, he gained access to the room and covertly scarfed the contents of one of the gift bags. The little bag contained 25-30 personalized M&Ms; too many for a pup to ingest at one time.

After much excitement and two teaspoons of hydrogen peroxide forcibly fed, Google is doing fine. Thankfully the peroxide worked it’s magic and poor Google violently emptied the contents of his stomach several times. Sous-Chef Mermaid gave me the chunky blow by blow details via phone. She was amazed that he didn’t chew any of the M&Ms. Rather, he swallowed them whole. I explained to her that he must have known that what he was doing was wrong. Some lessons are learned the hard way.

I am hoping that he will never go after another M&M for the rest of his life. Not likely but an Aunt can hope.

Uh…Hello!

Conversation I just had with my Dad, the Great White Psychiatrist:

GWP: Did the storm do any damage to your house?

Wicked: I just got steady rain, every now and then a gust of wind; and you?

GWP: Oh, the rain was coming down in sheets and at one point it got very dark and loud. The trees were almost touching the ground.

Wicked: Were you and Mom huddled in safety?

GWP: No, I was standing outside watching it all.

Wicked: Do you think that was a good idea considering a tornado touched down 4 miles away?

GWP: It was scary.

This goes to show that GWP and BS have the exact same personality. They are both quite focused in their medical travails but when it comes to common sense, forget about it.

Tenacious

“You are like a bad penny that won’t go away.”

This is what one of the Docs I work with said to me recently. You see since I was transferred to my latest location nine months ago, I have been coveting the corner office with windows. You can’t blame me. I left a corner office with a view and ended up in an interior spot much smaller and with absolutely no radio reception.

I’ll admit it was bugging me.

Recently the corner office became available and I have carefully been campaigning for it. The reasons for not letting me have the office never really added up for me. A simple no would have ended my quest.

While on vacation where I purge all bad things, I had decided to let go of the coveted corner office. It wasn’t worth it. I was getting used to not being able to hear the news and traffic reports scattered amongst my classic rock. The IT dept put a kibosh on all streaming capabilities long ago and no, satellite radio didn’t function in my office either.

Tuesday, I was told that the decision came down and I could have the office. The Doc who made the comment praised me for my tenaciousness. Why thank you!

A room with a view and no evidence of the Troll. I can die happy now.

Well it’s Not Brain Surgery

No wonder she couldn’t figure it out.

My sister the Brain Surgeon has taken up bike riding. Of course she has all the requisite equipment except for a functional bike. Let me explain. BS inherited Gestational Countessa’s (GS) old bike from way back. BS cannot throw away anything. I purchased the bike for GS when she was in high school. So it has more than a few years on it.

The other day BS and her husband were biking along and she was having a difficult time. She realized something was awry but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. When they decided to take a break she mentioned it to her husband and he didn’t seem too bent out of shape about it.

It wasn’t until they stopped to fill her rear tire with some air; they discovered that both her tires were dry rotted and that she was riding on the rims. DUH!

If there was a brain lying in the bike path, she would have been all over that. Things happen for a reason.

My B-I-L bought her a new bike for her birthday which is today. I hired a personal chef to teach 6 of us how to prepare a 4 course gourmet dinner and then dine in style. I have to say we did a great job. Turns out Little Mermaid, who is too old for that moniker now, is a frustrated Sous-Chef. Who knew? That girl can chop better than any Ronco™ product I’ve ever seen. We shall therefore refer to her as Sous-Chef Mermaid. That is until I come up with something better.

In the meantime, join me in wishing my older sister the Brain Surgeon a very happy birthday!

Sis: Wishing you happiness today and ALL days!

Aunt Wicked Part Deux

Yes friends, it’s now official. My younger sister and her husband, Gestational Countessa and Uncle Fun, are expecting a bundle of joy.

The first trimester is over, the amnio has been performed and I know that I will be having a niece sometime around March.

Her nickname is Roseannrosanahanna or Gilda for short. Uncle Fun thinks that is a hoot. Gestational Countessa was not amused. Oh well, my niece my choice of moniker.

Don’t worry Little Mermaid; I have enough love in my heart for 2 nieces. Always know that since you are the first you will have an extra special place there that Gilda cannot replace.

Cigars for everyone!!

Plausible Deniability

Things that me go hmmmmmmm?

Ever try to debate a personal topic with an individual who is so narcissistic that you would turn blue before he or she would admit to any wrongdoing? Frustrating. Thankfully, I have eliminated most of these types from my core pool. Unfortunately, for him/her, one tries valiantly to hang on.

Cryptic, you say? Damn straight, my Blog my style. If you aren’t intelligent enough to play along or amused enough to decipher some of my posts, I promise not to lose any sleep over it. Hope you do the same.

Once again, I digress. I’ve made a pact with my self to leave these deleterious types in my wake. Now if they are ignorant enough to tread the choppy waters, then I promise to make the journey as amusing as possible. Gratifying to me? You bet your ass.

Want to come along for the ride? Have I ever let you down before?

Dear Trader Joe’s Patron:

All right. I am only going to say this once lady, pay attention.

If you have enough time to fondle every single melon in the display, then you most certainly have enough time to wait on line to pay for your perfect gourd. I cannot believe you were trying to play the “I am late to pick up my child” card when you spent 16 minutes palpating fruit. We all have busy lives and each of our minutes are just as precious as yours. If you are so late to pick up Junior, explain to me how you had the time to write a check for one item?

I almost offered to pay the grocery tab of the woman who would not let you go ahead of her in line. I did offer to give her one of my bottles of wine while I was walking back to my car. How did I know it took you 16 minutes to finalize your melon choice? You kept her from even looking at them.

There is a God and today she was staking her claim at Trader Joe’s.

I've Got Nothing But This Joke Edition

A man and his wife are awakened, at 3 o'clock in the morning by a loud
pounding on the door.

The man gets up and goes to the door where a drunken stranger,
standing in the pouring rain, is asking for a push.

"Not a chance," says the husband, "it is 3 o'clock in the morning!"

He slams the door and returns to bed.

"Who was that?" asked his wife.

"Just some drunk guy asking for a push," he answers.

"Did you help him?" she asks.

"No, I did not, it is 3 o'clock in the morning and it is pouring out there!"

"Well, you have a short memory," says his wife. "Can't you remember, about
three months ago when we broke down, And those two guys helped us? I think
you should help him, and you should be Ashamed of yourself!"

The man does as he is told, gets dressed, and goes out into the pounding
rain.

He calls out into the dark, "Hello, are you still there?"

"Yes" comes back the answer.

"Do you still need a push?", calls out the husband.

"Yes, please!" comes the reply from the dark.
"Where are you?" asks the husband




"Over here on the swing!", replies the drunk

Made me chuckle while I am trying to find the top of my desk.....enjoy!

The Effects of Caffeine; Vacation VS Work

Why is it that while on vacation, I can consume a whole pot of coffee and not feel the least bit jittery? Yet, while at work after my second cup I start hyperventilating.

I don’t get it.

Ameliorated

I knew I was in dire need of a break before I left; the severity of my urgency became clear the second my toes hit the sand. I will not bore you with the details that lead to my epiphany. I will let you know that if I could figure out how to bottle up the response I have to being at the shore I would market it in an instant and retire early. Until then, I have made myself a promise to not let myself wait so long for the next break.

Although the weather was not great, the atmosphere and accommodations provided the respite I needed. I had full view of the ocean and the bay. The ability to watch the sun rise and set from the confines of a balcony with my favorite libation was the exact prescription I required.

I return insouciant and rejuvenated, ready to face whatever comes my way. Let the games begin.....

Down the Ocean...Hon!

I am off to the Beach. How can you all miss me if I don’t go away?

Try to behave yourselves, I know how difficult that can be for some of you. I may be back soon or not. One never knows about these things.

I’ll leave you with a poem by Linda Harnett which best describes my reasons for escaping to the shore.



Oh, to be lying,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
With sand in my toes,
And the wind,
In my hair.

And only the sound,
Of the seagulls,
On high,
On a beach,
Somewhere,
Under sunny blue sky.

The gentle caress,
Of the waves,
On the shore,
Could I ask for more?

Flowers for Algernon

I was hoping that this week was a representation of the play. Alas, it was not.

I was prepared to wax poetic about the injustices suffered by being surrounded by those with off the chart IQs. Instead I learned that ignorance is truly bliss. Next life I will return ignorant. The synapses that I have wasted attempting to be politically correct have been painful. Nay, excruciating. Charlie, I understand now.

If I have to repeat a week like this one ever again, then friends, I need to make reservations for a padded cell.

Thank the heavens the weekend is a few hours away. Any longer and I would not have made it.

On the Edge

These short work weeks, although good for the soul, really screw with my sense of keeping time. At work, I am a creature of habit. At home, not at all. We have a certain crew that rotates through my location certain days of the week. Fridays are usually the let’s all go out to lunch day. Yesterday we ended up with the usual Friday crew so of course we went out to lunch.

No matter what the stress level in the office, take us out of our element and not only are we going to have fun but so are most of the people within a 50 yard radius. We’re infectious, what can I say. (If you are interested and local, shoot me an e-mail and I’ll let you know where we are dining this Friday)

Today we noticed a very odd pairing of co-workers. We don’t know “for sure” if they were co-workers but all actions lead us to believe that scenario. We witnessed 4 of the homeliest women in Northern Virginia seated with an attractive man. Under normal circumstances, the group would not have drawn any attention. However, this group deserved recognition due to the body language of the alpha male. The booth they were seated in was basically in the shape of a circle, the booth itself elevated by one step. The women were bunched together chatting, laughing, conversing. The gentleman was at the end of this booth, seated at the farthest edge of the cushion with one foot one the floor. His posture reminded me of someone who was going to take off running. He looked painfully uncomfortable both physically and socially. He was not engaged in any of the conversations taking place at the booth, he was either watching one of the many TVs in the place or gazing in any direction but the booth itself. Before the women arrived, he spent about 10 minutes arranging the items strategically on top of the table; the salt and pepper shakers, catsup and the specials menu.

What can I say, there was a slight delay in receiving our food and I am a people watcher.

So what do you think was the deal with this man? He certainly was not there to enjoy the company.

Carded

This week the school kids returned back to their routine. Not being a parent, I do enjoy hearing about the first day of school escapades.

One of the specialists I work with was sharing the tender moments of his daughter’s first ever day of school. He recounted the entire morning, from the time she awoke to the tearful goodbye of he and his wife as their daughter skipped into school oblivious to the heartache she was causing with her independence.

The Doc went on to explain that his daughter was very concerned about receiving a red card while riding the bus. Apparently, they dole out red cards to children who misbehave. Once they have accumulated enough red cards, I suppose their bus riding privileges disappear. I told him if that was the practice when I started school, I would have accumulated enough red cards to fill one of those contraptions they deal cards out of in Vegas.

He walked away horrified, mumbling that his daughter would never get into that kind of trouble. Well Doc, I don’t think any father plans for that but you may want to have a conversation with my dad.

I’m just sayin…….

Toot Toot, Hey…. Beep Beep

MIT:Every Sunday night I wrack my brain to figure out a money making scheme to keep me from having to show up at work each Monday. How about you?

Wicked:Well I keep trying to be the E-Bay entrepreneur but things aren’t moving fast enough.

MIT:I hear you. Maybe we could be ladies of the evening?

Wicked:Yea, I am not sure my profit margin would be any better in that arena either.

MIT:We are older; I guess we’d be attracting the wrong clientele.

Wicked:Plus, is it really worth it?

MIT:You are right, with all the diseases, etc. We should stick to our toys and just show up to work every weekday.

Wicked:I hate it when you are right, Dammit!

Bumbershoots and Galoshes

It doesn’t take much to screw up traffic in this area. Adding a tropical storm right in the middle of the Labor Day weekend will certainly cause all kinds of trouble.

You all be careful. Batten down the hatches and have a safe weekend.

Pierced Pepper Mills

I realize this requires much explanation. Pull up a chair get comfy....here we go.

First of all, does everyone have the pleasure of working with a fun bunch of crazies like I do? If you don’t, I feel for you, honestly.

We are a diverse group. If you saw us together in a non-festive situation, I am willing to bet that you wouldn’t believe we could have some wicked fun away from work. We do. We do indeed.

Last night started out customarily, a cohorts birthday celebration. Before I forget, I have three words for you: Key Lime Martini. Don’t question it, go out and try one and then get back to me. Thank God for sidekicks who like to bend a few while waiting for the rest of the gang. We are nothing if not entertaining. The Three Lushkateers!

We kept the bartender hopping, he looked a little bored before we arrived. I am sure that’s his take on the evening as well. Anyhoo, after 2 cocktails the rest of the party showed up and off we were ushered to a table in the rear of the establishment. Maybe our reputation preceded us? You never know.

It all started innocently enough, we are medically inclined so of course the conversation took a medicinal turn and before you know it we were trying to explain why anyone would pierce that part of his anatomy. Since I believe in visual aides and because we had an unusually odd shaped pepper mill on the table. Bing, bang boom, our straight laced associate got the picture and blushed the deepest shade of crimson you’ve ever seen. Good times!

It’s not a successful party until one of us is mortified.

So, what did you all do last night?

And Your Point Is?

I have a huge problem when I encounter nepotism at the workplace. I do not, nor will I ever, believe that relatives should work in a situation where one is supervising the other. (My blog, my opinion. Don't like it, stop reading.) Similarly, I don’t believe that one should use a relative as their trump card in any type of work related issue.

This brings me to a recent conversation I somehow got entangled in while on the clock. Okay, who are we kidding, I live for moments like these:

(Scenario: 2 visitors from another site visiting my office recently)

Wicked: Hey, what’s up?
Coworker 1 (CW1): Wicked!! Whadya know girl?
Coworker 2 (CW2): Long time no see, what’s the scoop.
Wicked: Aw you know, always full of scoop. Pick a topic.
(For obvious reasons, I will not divulge the topic. I am not that stupid)
CW1: How about the recent excitement?
Wicked: What about it?
CW2: Oh, you know CW1 is related to a big shot.
Wicked: Really? Well I am related to my parents. What’s the point? If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.
CW1 & 2: Blink....blink.....
Wicked: CW1 being related to a big shot means absolutely nothing to me. Not intimidated by it in the least. If CW1 doesn’t want to know my opinion of the recent events, then he shouldn’t have asked.
CW2: Good point. My bad.
( Funny how CW1 was intently listening to the exchange but not participating)
Wicked: Well you screwed up your chance to hear my opinion on the subject. Off you both go now. I am a busy woman.
CW1: Does this mean we are done discussing the excitement?
Wicked: In order to have a discussion, all parties must actively participate. Since you chose to abstain, we are through here.
CW2: Giggles
CW1: ......
Wicked: Have a nice day gentlemen. Y’all come back now, you here?

Watch Out Everyone!!!

Mother Nature is having a BAD day. If Mamma's not happy, aint nobody happy. Although, if she is flipping us off collectively perhaps she will be able to let it go.

I may just stay under the covers to be safe.

The Apple Never Falls Far From the Tree

The other day while driving back from a lunch outing with co-workers, we were involved in a spirited discussion. I was driving and actively participating in the debate. I noticed that my passengers got very quiet quickly. I asked them what was wrong. They in turn asked me why we were traveling so slowly while in the left lane.

Apparently, I am unable to partake in a spirited debate and follow the regular traffic laws simultaneously. Wait, it gets better. Ever since I can remember I have always criticized my Father for being unable of performing the exact same tasks.

So the lesson here folks is to be careful how you admonish your elders because here is the proof that it will indeed turn around and bite you in the ass.

Sorry Dad!

Overheard in No. VA

That woman is 6 cats shy of being the "Crazy Cat Lady"!

Priceless......

When Pigs Fly

I have mentioned him ad nauseam. It seems Mr. I Posses an MBA but I cannot even take a basic H&P, is out pounding the pavement again. Thank the heavens GE wised up quick and asked him to be successful elsewhere.

This just in, he used the nepotism card and tried to strong arm a Northern VA hospital into hiring him. However, he was up against one major fatal flaw. You see the big wig Docs at his former place of employment could give a rats ass as to whether or not they play the politically correct HR card. So when his sister-in-law’s department head asked the key question “would you rehire this person if you had the chance?” The answer was an emphatic HELL NO.

Those of us who live in NOVA can now breath a great sigh of relief. I would not be surprised of this idiot and the Troll end up working in the same medical facility at some point.

Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be treated by either. You can thank me later.

School Days, Update Your Booster Days…..

As the end of summer gets closer and closer, the number of school physicals grows exponentially. I have been recruited more of late to restrain or assist in the wrangling of kids who are in need of immunizations in order to attend school. As well as those kids who happen to be due their next round of inoculations.

Not being a parent myself, I throw these scenarios out there to any parents who might peruse my site. I have narrowed down the kids receiving their shots into a few categories; let me know what you think:

Stoic – these are the kids who have the look of terror in their eyes but remain quite still and receive their booster with little to no fuss. Typically the stoic child’s parent is more of a wreck than the child.

Petrified – these are the kids whose parent is talking them off the ledge the entire time. These parents are more than capable of keeping the child still so that the rest of us can move things along as quickly as possible. The petrified child will most likely cry but will not otherwise deter the needle from hitting its target.

Inconsolable – these are the kids whose parents most likely had terrible memories of receiving shots themselves. Typically, before I get into the room to help, the child is planning his/her escape or bartering for anything but the needle. Ear piercing screams accompanied by much arm flailing and leg kicking. We haven’t even uncapped the needle yet. The parent of this child most definitely cannot circumvent the movement of their offspring. The parent is so stressed out by the child’s reaction to the impending doom that not only do they not comprehend the instructions on how to comfort the child while three of us are preparing for battle, they are just not able to participate.

In my humble opinion, the parent’s of the inconsolable children just shouldn’t be in the room during the shots. It really makes the whole process more difficult, especially for the child. In defense of these school aged children; I don’t remember having to receive more than one shot a time as a kid. I have been in the room where the child can receive up to four inoculations at once. Talk about being stressed out; you certainly cannot blame the kid for being scared. We do our best to make the process as painless as possible but when faced with a child who is screaming bloody murder before we even enter the room and a parent who goes limp with indecision, things can go south quickly.

These are my observations. For the record, my own Mom would threaten me with a visit to the doctor for a shot anytime I misbehaved. Obviously, that wasn’t the smartest thing she has ever done but I most likely deserved those threats and many more that she may have missed. However, I was the stoic type of child. That is of course after my Mom had to catch me and get me in the car for the visit to the doctor. Once in public, we were only allowed to be stoic.

"Supercalifragilisticexpiala-CRAZY"

A spoonful of tequila helps the medicine go down, yes indeed.

How do you know if you have thrown a successful cookout for your friends who also happen to be your co-workers? I'll tell you.

Have a theme, ours was "Tasty Tapas"
Liquor. A huge lot of it.
The right combination of guests, check!
Good weather. A little too humid for my taste but Tequila cures all.
Guests with magical epicurean powers. Who knew?
Your ancient grill holding up to the pressure, check check!
Spouses of guests who can dish it out as well as I could take it. Love those
spousal units.
Chocolate fondue with AMARETTO. Who cares if the chocolate was slightly lumpy.
Giggle fits while trying to explain what ramekins are to those who I previously
thought were gastronimists.

And the number one way to know you had a terrific tapas cookout, your guests attempt to clean your entire kitchen while you are still slurping a libation. SCORE!


(Title of this post lifted from one of the Project Runway contestants)

Free Spirits

The other day while at work, I was having a conversation with our receptionist. I was at the front desk chatting with her. The floor plan of our office is open, if anyone is engaging the receptionist everyone in the waiting is in on the conversation. Of course we are compliant with all HIPPA regulations, everyone calm down.

We were discussing whether or not Paris Hilton would stay with Stavros or move onto the next best prospect. The receptionist’s cell phone rang. Unbeknownst to her, the ring tone had recently been tampered with. The song that was playing was very upbeat and happy. Without any other provocation, she and I began jamming to the tune while continuing our discussion. It was not until the patient in the waiting room startling laughing that we realized we had an audience.

While we were trying to maintain a bit of decorum, the patient asked if the floor show would cost him any extra. That is my kind of patient. We told him that being a patient at our facility comes with many perks not to worry.