Home Stretch

Well friends, it has been one long month. For someone who is deathly afraid of the dentist, in the past thirty days he and I have become quite close. If I am not mistaken, I may have single handedly financed two of his eight children’s college education. I don’t want to jinx myself or him at this point, but I am hoping and praying that I have reached the summit of my dental debacle.

I will spare you most of the gory details. I would like to share that when I told my sister the brain surgeon the details of the major procedure I had done, she herself told me to stop. BS said that if I didn’t stop with the details, she was going to vomit. This, from the woman who digs into people’s brains every day at least thirty times a day. Enough said.

I have been plagued with bad teeth forever. I’ve been through countless procedures. My previous dentist who could not completely numb my mouth due to scar tissue, told me that either he’d have to stop mid-extraction or I would have to tough it out. He had given me the legal and illegal limit of Novocain. I told him that if he didn’t mind me breaking the arm rest of his surgical dental lounge chair, to carry on. He must have thought I was kidding because the look of surprise when I handed him the entire arm rest was priceless.

Friends, I urge you not to repeat my mistakes. Be responsible flossers. Listen to your dental professionals. Or suffer the consequences and be prepared to put their children through college or finance the remodeling of their recreation room.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams......

It's going to be one of those weeks. Hope yours is much better.

Self Editing a Simple Example

My sister, the Brain Surgeon (BS), works at one of the area’s premier hospitals. (If you ever have the need for a BS and you live in the area, e-mail me and I’ll set you up with the best team.)

During a recent night shift which for her specialty is never a slow night, she was called to the trauma room. Once she evaluated her patient she was in a common area writing orders, labs, etc. It was a particularly busy night and one of the nurses asked if BS could check up on a couple of patients while she was in the area.

Trauma Nurse: Hey, I know we didn’t call you for this patient but while you are here, could you take a look?

BS: Sure, no problem.

TN: Okay, how about this guy over here?

BS: You’ve got to be kidding me? Fine.

TN: Just one more?

BS: Where is the gun??

Before she could finish her normal statement of “shoot me now,” the Secret Service agent who was accompanying the last patient quickly lowered the paper he was reading and was at full attention. The TN had to explain to him that this was the BS’s way of letting off steam. There was no gun and there would be no shooting.

4 is the Magic Number

We had a drug rep luncheon today. The Drug Dealer was as pleasant as she could be. Her excitement could not be contained. She told us that the ED drug that she represents has started a new marketing campaign.

Apparently, four is now a magic number for many reasons. Among them, the degree of erection is a stage four; I can’t think of either sex having too much to complain about in that respect. Four is also magic because when the gentlemen who take this drug and get it refilled consistently, their fourth refill is always going to be free.

I am all for affordable medicines. However, I have a real difficult time understanding why medications targeted specifically for women such as birth control pills, can’t have the same magical component. Being in the business of medicine, I don't understand why not only do BCP not offer any type of discount, many of them are no longer covered by insurance companies.

It doesn’t seem to make sense. Just something I had to throw out there to chew on.

The Cronies’ Luncheon

They’ve been friends for well over 30 years and time has only made their bond stronger. My Mom and her BFFs. They are a collective trip without luggage. I was able to sit in on the latest luncheon which covered so many varied topics it is hard to remember all the details let alone what lead to the story in the first place. I am going to do my best and cover the highlights:

They each show up with a bag filled with the latest knitting projects. I spent three hours with them, trust me not too much knitting and purling going on. It is all a big rouse, perhaps a reason to meet once a week. As if they need permission at this stage in the game.

Believe it or not we had a long discussion on the topic of Breast Nazis. When I showed them the picture of the Augmenter, hysteria ensued. Ladies in their 70s and 80s are capable of snorting laughter. I only wish I had an audio tape to share.

I hate it when my elders are right about dissecting my character. These women did not miss a beat. So I was moody as a teen, I admit it. Trust me, I was not always this interested in their opinions. One even admitted to being afraid of me. Oh, the power! I try to use it for good at this stage of my game.

They conduct swap meets. My Mom was able to unload six of over one hundred table cloths which have not seen the light of day in decades. Be free linens, enjoy your new homes.

The best remedy for hangovers, tripe soup. Who knew? They did and each had a story with a hypothesis, experiment and proof. I just cannot get over the smell of that stuff. Next bender, I am investing in some nose plugs then off to consume some tripe soup.

I came away with a new respect for these old gals. I only hope I am half as entertaining when I get to be their age. Who am I kidding, if I make it to their age? Rock on Cronies.

The Family Jewels

We gathered this weekend for a gastronomical feast prepared by my Mom. She surprises me lately, all in a good way. The younger version of her could put together an eight course dinner party like nobody’s business. It is expected that the octogenarian version’s food and prep may not live up to what used to be; however this weekend it was all good.

This gathering was extra special in that Mom has decided to start her grand daughter’s dowries. She did not make a huge deal out of it. I was expecting more pomp and circumstance; she likes to give and make a production. This time she simply handed Sous-Chef Mermaid (age 11) and Smelly (age one month) each a ring box. It was kind of cool seeing the surprise and joy in Mermaid’s face. She eagerly took the ring out and modeled it for everyone. Smelly was oblivious. I am sure she'll appreciate it when the time comes. Maternal Countessa exclaimed that she would gladly wear it until Smelly is ready. Uncle Fun, MC’s husband, declared that the ring would be kept in a safe place until his daughter was in need of the sparkler.

I jokingly asked where my bauble was but since I have not and cannot produce grandchildren, I was left out of the dowry department. That’s okay. Dexter, the first grandson/dog was spoiled rotten by his grandmother. I am sure he was wagging his tail from heaven.

I present to you, the first of many installments of the Family Jewels:

Because Sometimes All We Need is a Little Levity

(A moment to interrupt the levity with a hearty congrats to MY TERPS!!! Boo Yah!)

A Florida senior citizen drove his brand new Porsche convertible out of the dealership. Taking off down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little hair he had left. "Amazing!" he thought as he flew down I-75, pushing the pedal to the metal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw the highway patrol behind him, blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. "I can get away from him - no problem!" thought the old speedster. He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120 mph. Suddenly, he thought, "What the hell am I doing? I'm too old for this nonsense", pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the Trooper to catch up with him.

Pulling in behind him, the Trooper walked up to the driver's side of the Porsche, looked at his watch and said, "Sir, my shift ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason why you were speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go."

The man, looking very seriously at the Trooper, said, "Years ago, my wife ran off with a Florida State Trooper.

I thought you were bringing her back."

"Have a good day, Sir," said the Trooper

Dear Whining Grumblers:

If you are going to complain about a co-worker following a meeting while in a public restroom with multiple stalls, it may behoove you to make sure said victim is not in the stall next to you.

I did my best not to look you straight in the eye and say ZING! I was quite composed and told both of you how wonderful it was to see you again.

Try again later, this obviously backfired on you.

Hugs and Kisses - Wicked

The Augmenter

My 3 week old niece is finally getting properly nourished. As a medical family, we all did relatively well staying out of the new parent’s business. I am sure every new parent has much adjusting to do and meddling family members can’t be of much comfort. After 2 weeks of wrestling with breast feeding mishaps, the new parents caved and decided to give Smelly formula along with the minimal amount of breast milk being produced by Maternal Countessa via bottle.

In a last ditch effort, my B-I-L wanted to visit the lactation specialists one more time to see if more breast milk could be produced. Maternal Countessa whipped out a contraption that she wanted us to see. This is the latest in Breast Nazi gadgetry. What the Nazis wanted them to do was hang the makeshift flask filled with formula around the mother’s neck, tape the tiny tubes around the nipples and expect the baby to nurse from the mother’s nipple and the plastic tubing simultaneously.



Once the snorting enhanced laughing subsided, the sister’s Wicked had the following exchange:

WH: Pass the tissues, I can’t stop crying from laughing!
Brain Surgeon (BS): (Still heaving with laughter)
MC: (Also wiping tears from her eyes)
WH: Hey, are they really serious about this contraption???
MC: Yes!
BS: And what was your reaction?
MC: Well we tried to keep a straight face, but it was difficult.
WH: No wonder Brittney shaved her head!
BS: That’s right! You better have B-I-L keep the shears locked up tight!
MC: Snort!!
WH: Hopefully B-I-L has gotten over the breast feeding thing by now.
BS: I know, we can hang the formula around his neck and let him tape the tubes to his nipples and then he can understand why this is ridiculous!
MC: (Ran off to the bathroom to keep from wetting her pants)

As you can see, none of us are tree huggers. We give great props to any mother out there who has the sanity to use The Supplementer. However, we feel that the Breast Nazis need to really get a grip on reality and simply support the decision of the parents.

Smelly is doing very well. Plus this way, we can all assist in the nourishing.

Aclockolypse Now

This is a friendly reminder that Sunday morning at 2 am, either Daylight’s Savings Time will quietly come into play or the world as we know it will end.

Seriously if the IT peeps of the world are not ready, how difficult would it be for us to manually update the time on the gadgets that get us through the day? Think about it, what did we do before all the technotronics? We shall over come this just like we did the whole Y2K thing. Everybody calm down.

While you are changing the time on your clocks, also check your smoke detectors.

This concludes the Wicked Network PSA.

The Art of Being Thrown Under the Bus

We are all human. Agreed?

Why is it easier for some to attempt to divert attention from a colossal mistake versus owning up to the fault and making every effort to ensure it never happens again? This is a serious question I am throwing out to you.

My assessment is that the one who does the pushing is so painfully stupid that they do not realize the punishment will become nearly unbearable when the truth comes out. Of course, the requirement for a successful set up would involve adroit precision. Ah. Never mind. I have answered my own question.

However; if you have an opinion, I’d love to hear it.

Anticappointment

As per usual the forecasters got my hopes up and this is about all we received.



I consider any amount of measurable snow gravy at this point in the season. It put me in a great mood. My Niece, Sous-Chef Mermaid, did get the day off and I didn’t even have to wrestle with my jammies, consume oatmeal cookies or wash a spoon. The snow and the tide, things that make me smile.

What works for you?

Thank God for Escalating Car Insurance Rates

Well this is not exactly how Billy Joel broached the subject. He did tell us that instead of touring to promote a new album, his car insurance rates went through the roof, touring was his only option. He needs the cash. This is why I love this man, owning up to it and putting on one great show.

I have been to at least six of his shows over the years and this one was, by far, the best. Not because the effects or sound mixing was far superior than any other show. He had no reason to pander to the audience, he picked from his vast repertoire and entertained us for more than two and a half hours. I had never seen him perform Zanzibar live, if I had to pick one as a favorite that would be it. It was a little disheartening to see that the Carolina crowd did not know many of the nuances involved with his songs but HFS and I made up for the rest. How can you not sway as a group during Piano Man?? Half the crowd was on the right page.

My trip to Raleigh and back could not have been more perfect. Any time spent with HFS is always an adventure. So we were geographically challenged for about 20 minutes, whatever. During each plane ride, my seat mate kept quiet which is exactly what I wanted especially on the way down. On the way back up, I admit to nursing a slight hangover. A quiet seat mate was just what the doctor ordered.

If you are a fan and he comes to your town, I highly recommend the concert. Tell him Wicked sent you and don’t take any shit from anyone!

Step Right Up, Hurry Hurry, Before the Show Begins

I must have a sign on my forehead or something, thank goodness I sport some bangs. If there is going to be an odd happening that takes place in front of a window, chances are good that it will occur right outside mine. I don’t go searching for these things they just seem to happen. My office window looks out to our parking lot. Many patients will wave to me as they exit their car on their way into our site.

Last week, a de-constructed strip tease took place right outside my office window. It was very early and the car attracted my attention because it took the driver several maneuvers to park his car. His vehicle is a standard sized sedan which really shouldn’t have been that difficult to park. In any case, the young man exited his vehicle and went to his rear passenger door. He proceeded to unzip his trousers so that he could tuck in his shirt. Once he tucked and re-tucked the shirt he zipped back up and retrieved a jar from the car and placed it on the hood. Then he put on his tie. He then retrieved some hair product from the jar and proceeded to complete his hairdo. After all the primping, he put on his short white lab jacket and loaded up all his pockets with his medical paraphernalia.

I realized at that moment that this was our newest medical student. Imagine my joy when our receptionist was too busy to escort him back to meet the doctors. I jumped at the chance. I ushered him back to the nurse’s station. Our baby doc (my term of endearment for all the students) was quite self-assured. Everyone was busy so I told him to make himself comfortable and the doctor would be out soon.

As I walked away, I couldn’t resist. I thanked our baby doc for the show and asked him if this was to be a daily occurrence? If so, I told him I would charge admission to my office so that everyone could enjoy the production. He looked very confused as he was oblivious to his surroundings during his de-constructed strip tease. When I mentioned how great his hair looked, the look of embarrassment appeared.

That my friends is what we call the Wicked H hazing. If the baby docs can get through that, they will be quite successful in their future endeavors.

He has learned to be fully dressed before he arrives to our office. My work here is done.

Air Traffic Warning

Listen, a note to my fellow passengers. I am headed out of town this weekend at a stress level of DEFCON 3.

Whichever one of you out there is to be my seat mate, kindly refrain from engaging me in conversation if I am actively reading my book or listening to my tunes.

This is more for you than me. You are really going to have to trust me on this one. Leave me alone and no ones’ feelings will get hurt. On the trip back, things will be markedly better and if that seat mate wants to discuss anything from belly button lint to the theory of relativity, I will be more than happy to oblige.

I thank you in advance.

Enough is Enough!

I have had it. They’ve had it. The feeling is not gone but I will not think twice and I will move on. I’ve reached the end and I won’t pretend. It. Is. Over.

One would think that software designers were put on the planet to make things easier for those who utilize their expertise. In my work’s case, nothing could be further from the truth. I honestly don’t want to discuss it. Just know that a programmer told us that an upgrade would fix a problem and it very well may have, however it created a colossal issue that has kicked my ass for an entire month.

When even I get tired of hearing myself whine incessantly about it, it is time to stop. So this is my way of letting it go. The issue will linger for a while but I am officially done complaining about it. It has not helped me one iota to vent so I am putting a fork into the grumbling.

Let us all return to our regularly scheduled programming. Shall we?