uvbeenburgled

01:22 pm: blech
People are dying... close friend needs new lungs, literally. Getting on transplant list. Sister needed stat MRI, no results back yet. Friend with (eventual) fatal illness not feeling very perky lately. Grandpas and things of other friends falling off planet into deathdom. What the beef is going on here? I am waiting for the big one that just crushes us all. Just make people either dying or not, stop dragging it out so we have to wait and see...is it ok?...Is it not ok?...Is it a little ok? Stop the madness.... Also the jerk store called they're running out of you. meh.

Tags: death, destruction, noodle salad

08:34 pm: Carts aren't just for shopping anymore!
Fun times!
Cast: Cassie, Katie and Gary
Time: 2am
Place: Warren side streets, 37th district court and police station

So K, G, and I close the bar my bf's band was gigging at and someone mentions how the summers almost over and how they have hardly roller bladed or done anything outside. K exclaims, "Let's go roller blading right now!" G states, "Mine are in my car" (hockey player). K states hers are at her home which is but a few wee miles away. Unfortunately mine are far far away at my home too far to retrieve. K says i can wear her bf Brian's. So we commence quickly to K's residence where I don the 2 1/2 sizes too big FILA (holy god FILA lord have mercy) skates. K and G grab theirs and away we go.

Our first adventure is to the "newly paved" parking lot across the street. This happens to be a large crock of shit. The pavements all wonky and I can't steer the skates because they are so big my calve/ankle can rest inside the skate without touching ANY of the sides. But hey I'm a trooper, where shall we go from here? K says, "Hey they just redid this city center down the street lets try there." So we do. As we round the last corner I am noticing this "city center" K speaks of is actually the police station. The police station? Yes, lets rollerblade circles around the cop shop while we are all clearly intoxicated, its 230 in the morning, I'm sure they'll find it amusing at the very least, right?

We cirlce around behind the building, K and I look ahead of us, our eyes meet and we telepathically communicate that yes, this is the mother load, and yes I am in fact, thinking what you're thinking... the police station parking garage. 5 floors of fun. We promptly drag Gary along with us to the elevator and ride up to the roof. These simple tasks are considerably more difficult, as we have wheels on our feet. We skate circles around the deserted roof, shout, holler, dance, spit over the sides and commence basic merriment and fun. Then the funnest thing of all-time, we ride the ramps all the way down to the basement floor. I cannot explain the exhilaration and fun of drunken speed skating downhill with little to no control or steering ability, in skates that are not, in the loosest definition of the term, the right size for me.

We carry this task through a few more times, up the elevator, down the ramps, with no mishaps or major injuries. Although at one point a large pigeon-type bird thing tried to eat my face. I apparently got a bit too close to its home. I just screamed, squealed, covered my head and kept flying downhill. I think one of the best parts was trying to avoid the parked cars around each turn. (My apologies to the owner of the red G-6 Kate bounced off of. I'm sure those scratches will rub right out.) But alas the hunger demon attacked and we began the trip home.

On our travels we detoured through a construction site in a subdivision. We managed through with only minor injuries until we came across yet another brilliant idea from Princess K. She found an abandoned shopping cart. You may be able to see where this is going. K says "Get in Cassie, I'll push you!" C'mon it'll be fun" "I won't let anything happen to you" and such other lies that had me trusting and believing this was somehow a good idea. Good old G just sort of gives me the, "I don't think that's a very good idea, but if you do it I'm gonna laugh." look. So I shrug and ask G to help me in. This is no easy task as we all have WHEELS ON OUR FEET! K and G hold the cart and I rather ungracefully dump myself into it. K begins the trek. It starts out slowly, I'm flapping my arms like a bird, pretending to row, making "swimming" arms and the like. We begin to pick up speed, I am starting to regret this plan. I am starting to realize there's no good way to fall out of a shopping cart with rollerblades 2 sizes too big on my feet.

Suddenly, G says, "Katie there's a curb coming up." I say, "Katie, curb. Curb Katie. Katie! Curb!" Katie, it appears, is not even considering slowing down. So I quickly run through my options and realize there aren't many. In the brief moment before collision, I actually start to believe that we can make it. I brace myself for impact, lean forward and stare directly into the face of whatever fate is going to hand me. Needless to say, we didn't make it. The front wheels hit, the cart tips and I fly out with a crash and a bit of a slide. Thankfully I cleared the entire cart and managed only some minor scrapes on my hands. K was not so lucky. Due to the fact that (yes I will say it again) she had WHEELS on her FEET, she was unable to stop on impact. She took the cart directly into her abdomen, then fell over, the grocery-carrying aid landing atop her. I rolled on my back, opened my mouth and bellowed laughter up to the clouds. I have not laughed so hard or so much in a very long time. After the briefest of moments K joined in. G I'm sure had been laughing since we started this little adventure. When we finally regained our composure and spot checked for injuries, G said simply, "I'm glad I came out tonight." Which put us all into another fit of the BWAHAHAs.

I'm a firm believer that stupidity is contagious and that everyone, at least once in their lives, should take a spill in a shopping cart. Afterward, we went directly to Coney where we stuffed our faces and relived the nights events. What an adventure, what a good time, what a bunch of retards. I agree with Gary, I'm glad I went out last night.

Tags: fun, jackass, shopping carts

01:29 pm: Phantom limbs
So I lost a wee bit of interest in the lj but I am attempting to renew.... The most interesting story I have is that the hospital has been uncharacteristically busy lately, especially the ICU. Part of my job is bagging and tagging those patients of ours whom are fortunate enough to go meet our Maker. I take them down to the morgue on our rickety death cart and place them calmly and serenely into a refrigerated wall unit.

Most recently I went to get af-fore mentioned cart and found that all the drawers in our morgue were full. What to do? Being an observant little laborer, I noticed 2 of these drawers contained smaller-than-body-sized bundles. Upon further inspection I discovered 2 drawers contained not whole bodies, but limbs. In drawer #1, a man's right arm, drawer #2 a woman's left leg. Hmmmm... idea!

I call the operator lady from the portable spectra-link-hospital-phone-deally I carry around at work, and present her with my dilemma. Are we allowed to combine 2 different folks body parts in the same drawer cuz I need somewhere to put the woman who is slowly cooling and rigoring upstairs? She is disturbed yet helpful and transfers me to the appropriate peoples. I am bounced around a bit, and it only gets more and more fun to start every answer to "Hello?" with "Hi i'm calling from inside the morgue, I have a question..."

Eventually someone tells me they don't see why i couldn't combine the 2 limbs into the same drawer as long as they are properly labeled. Hooray! So I hang up and get ready to make the arm and leg bunk-mates. But wait, the startling creepiness of what I am about to do has now caught up with me. I have to pick up this leg, this woman's leg, which from the looks of it is ankle to thigh?!? I have to stand in this poorly lit, odd smelling room full of dead folks and pick up a woman's leg which is no longer attached to her body?!? This profoundly intimate thing of this woman's whom I have never met, nor will I recognize on the street, who's name I have already forgotten... I wonder what she's like. I wonder if she is devastated by the loss of this limb, I wonder if she was in her pre-amputee life a runner? Or a bicyclist? A dancer even? I wonder if she is one of these sad people whom a family will leave to rot to death in the hospital. Perhaps she is so far gone she doesn't even realize the leg is missing...

I realize I have stalled enough and thinking myself into some odd personal attachment to someones leg, (although I'm sure it's owner was quite attached haha)is not going to help me sling this hunk of meat into another drawer. I take a deep breath, shove the man's arm out of the way and hoist the leg. It is much squishier than I thought possible and it kind of jiggles with each movement of my hands. I am disturbed and want to throw it down and run, but I stay. I clench my teeth and I calmly lay the leg down into its new home. I do this out of respect for someone's loss, I cannot imagine losing a leg or an arm, or even a finger for that matter. So I am kind to this limb, I hope that it has had a good life and that it and the man's arm can get along and not kick or pinch each other haha. I return the drawer to the wall, close the door and go back to work.

The rest of the day is uneventful but I believe the limb will stay with me for awhile, as it should.

11:38 pm: jury duty schmury duty
If you or anyone you know is ever sent a summons for Jury Duty I suggest you consider leaving the country immediately. I am 1/2 way through the experience and I'm beginning to consider changing citizenship... let me break it down so far:

Tues- Cassie shows up at nine-ish, they cram her into a very tiny room with a very large amount of people. She must take the last seat available. Cassie is somewhat shy with strangers, she is the youngest person there by at least 15 years, and is rubbing elbows with creepy older dudes. They allow her a supervised smoke break at 10, after which she is crammed back with the creepsters for another hour, they then call the whole crew into the court room, take roughly 30 minutes to select 7 jurors for their case (none of which are Cassie) then send the rest on their merry way. Not too bad for the first day... oh! by the way come back tomorrow, same time same place!

Wed - Crammed back in said room at 9am, relieved for nicotine at 930 for some weird reason cuz i just got there, crammed back in affore-mentioned room, door closed (makes it worse somehow), t.v is on, but too a news-ish channel, not even actual news, but financial news like cspan or something, shoot me now - but wait there's more!! I have to pee, and my dear friends, the bathrooms are IN THE ROOM WITH US!! It's a bit like a hotel or hospital room set up, except there's 20+ people outside the fucking door, i'm a shy pee-er, i am not happy. So 2 damn hours later my fellow hostages and I have had no word from the outside world, no one has come to give me my precious nicotine, nor to let us stretch our legs, breathe fresh air, see the damn sun ever ever again... We begin devising plans to write signs about negotiations and holding them up to the security camera that has been trained on us throughout this terrible ordeal.

So its nearing the lunch hour and I am beginning to notice the rather large woman, whom i've named too-low-cut-dress-lady, across from me appears to be eyeballing me. First I think I must be imagining it, but then I begin to notice that she appears to be contemplating something. My guess is she's curious what the risks are of attempting to subdue me and quite possibly to eat me. I see her looking into the faces of those around me and I can hear her wondering how many people she can sway towards her diabolical plan. I imagine she is also calculating whether or not she thinks anyone will put up much of a fight for the weird girl who never takes off her headphones or makes eye contact with anyone. So now I'm starting to wonder myself, I start searching the faces nearest me and am seeing only frowns, hearing only sighs of frustration and boredom. Then off all the possible bad things that could happen, the potential cannibal in the seat next to me looks me in the eyes and his stomach growls. I am poised to leap from my seat shouting "I'm too small, I have no meat on my bones, try Hawaiian shirt-man he's got enough for everyone!!" while I dash across the tables. I imagine throwing Farmer-Fran-in-the-ruffle-dress out of her chair and using it to bust out a window in my death-defying leap to freedom.

Thankfully, it is just at this moment that Princess-with-the-walking-cast opens the door, she is an official court person of some sort. She tells us today's case has settled out of court and we are all free to go... oh! By the way I'll see you tomorrow, same time same place!

So that is the fun of jury-duty so far. I can honestly say I am not looking forward to tomorrow, but if I don't get picked, then Friday is the last possible day they can make me come there. Silver lining... I think tomorrow i'll bring a granola bar or better yet some raw meat I can throw at them. As they dive to the floor and begin growling and tearing at eachother, I can make my escape.
In the hopes that I survive long enough to tell you how the rest of my service to our country goes, i must retire to what may very well be the last night I spend in my bed. Pray for me if you will...

09:29 pm: poop, literally
So I work at a hospital; intro to my amazing stories about how old people are funny. I work in the ICU (intensive care unit) where people are too sick to worry about things like crapping as they are preoccupied with breathing and staying alive. So I spend a large amount of time cleaning up shat. The other day my friend (RN) Tom and I are rolling a lady on her side to wipe her rear as she had evacuated her bowels all over her sheets. As I place my hand near the buttocks she begins to shart some more. As funny as this is, I have just put clean sheets underneath 1/2 of her and I don't want to have to change em again, so what does the quick-thinking-cassie do?!?! I hold my gloved hand with one wipey thing on it and let her shite in my hand. It was outstandingly hilarious because it made like this neat little curly pile, it swirled evenly around as if it were a frozen yogurt in search of a cone. While this story sounds profoundly gross to regular folks, I've been cleaning poo for 2 yrs now so its only entertaining and uproariously funny to me.
MY other fun story is a man named Walter who is 87 yrs old and CANNOT HEAR A THING!! So I'm helping him get washed up cuz he's smelly and I have to wash his dealy-man-part because he's too arthritic to reach it. So while I'm down there with a washcloth my man begins to yell at the top of his lungs (although he thinks he's speaking in an inside voice) "I'm sorry about that, it used to be a lot bigger when I was younger. Now its just so small, I don't understand it!!" People in other rooms are looking, nurses at the desk are cracking up, I have no clue what to do, so I say "Uhhh...I'm sure its how its supposed to be..." what are u supposed to say to that? Crazy Walter, on what planet would it ever matter to me how large or small ur member? If it helps u pee thats about all u can hope for in ur condition HE later shouted to his nurse about how, "It used to be bigger, but now when I look down all I SEE ARE BALLS!!" funny funny old people. funny life =)

09:02 pm: byurgen
Who'dve thought you could miss drama? I never did. I'm always yelling about how lame and annoying drama is, y'know "save the drama for ur mama" and all that but I noticed something recently; drama keeps things interesting. I used to joke that I'm starting a coalition for a drama-free life and have had people clamoring to sign up for it (whom I promptly had to deny as they were too dramatic ha). I go to work, to school, my bfs house, I read books, play on-line, drink coffee, eat meals, and sleep. I see my family often, a few choice friends occasionally, looking around its kind of boring in a comforting way. I don't hang out with ppl who get all drunk and slobbery, or worse, violent. When ppl act turbo-psycho I tend to say "ok then,all done with you" and revoke all Cassie-privileges.
In my recent exploits with some friends I haven't seen in awhile, in addition to a girl I had dinner with today (that reminded me why its been so long), I've come to the conclusion that I miss drama just a bit. All the falling in and out of love, all the he said that about me but she said this first, all the hair pulling screaming, occasional fist-fighting, and the I found out you were cheating on me and you actually hid in a closet from me (story for another day)junk. My life is quite peaceful, happy, and calm but just a wee bit on the boring side. I suppose I'll be content just to vicariously borrow others drama, letting it flow over me as if it were mine during story time, but then following up with, "yeaah so i got a new book yesterday..." (crickets) On second thought, perhaps I don't miss drama nearly as much as I used to. I think I'd take some smokes, coffee and laughs with some friends over drama most days. Plus if I really miss it that much I'll just stop at the closest bar and drag the 1st girl I see out by her hair. That always seems to perk me up on off days.

01:53 am: boondockle
Yay first journal entry. Had way lots of coffee with t0astbandit today, was lots of fun. She talked me into this, hooray for live journals and having no clue how to use them!!