Subtitle: Today at work (instead of working). I decided to find out exactly what a person from Indiana is called.
In the state, I'm presently living in the natives are known as Iowans (although, I prefer calling them Iowanians...it rolls off the tongue like raspberry jelly). I asked a fellow employee of the Iowa City VA about Wisconsin (where she went to school) inferring their nickname is/are "Cheeseheads." False. She corrected me in saying they are called Wisconsinites!
This prompted me into a thought, I've been thinking, in my thought box, sitting a top my though shoulders (too much?). Are the people of Indiana (my so-called homestate) called anything besides "Hoosiers?" The reason I inquire? Well, when I tell people I'm a Hoosier (which is a new thing for me...if a genius like Vonnegut called himself a Hoosier, then it can't be that bad, right?). My problem is most people (especially in Big Ten land) assume I am associated with that abomination of a school in Bloomington (my hatred stems from the asshole basketball fans...and nothing more, actually). Nay. My loyalties are with Butler University (and to some extent The University of Iowa....football!).
With an extensive search (wikipedia), I could not find another name for a person from Indiana (no Indianan or Indianite or Indianian). Although, I did see a link to "People from Indiana." Intrigued, I clicked on the link and to my surprise...Jim Gaffigan is from Indiana (Chesterton to be exact). But that isn't why I am writing. I am writing today, because today (12/28/2009), I have never been more proud to be a Hoosier...
I am "birth state buddies" (wow, what a terrible description, ohh well...I'll keep it...cracks me up) with (this was in quotes when I found it and in quotes shall it remain)....(wow again, this "paragraph is riddled with parenthesis)
"Many consider him to be midget car racing's greatest driver ever."
I am, of course, talking about Mel Kenyon!
Like learning about our American history with greats like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Jimmie Johnson (?), Hoosiers should delve into one of their greatests. Please enjoy!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mel_Kenyon
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Written in the stars...
Why do people say “things are written in the stars?” What are they referring to? Fate or something? When I look to the heavens, my brain automatically begins to connect the dots. However, after several attempts I see nothing that remotely represents the written English language. Even considering the fact, the writer for things written in the stars could have bad handwriting, chicken scratch per say.
But honestly…
All I see is a fuckin’ banana. Maybe the writer for things written in the stars thought it would be a good idea to spell out fate using wingdings.
But honestly…
All I see is a fuckin’ banana. Maybe the writer for things written in the stars thought it would be a good idea to spell out fate using wingdings.
Monday, July 27, 2009
No one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
“I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
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Dennis, Mac, and Charlie, the three guys of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, are staying at a cabin in the woods. It is actually more than a cabin; it is several stories tall with a large basement filled with an assortment of tools. Charlie needs something from the basement but is too scared to go, so Dennis, uncharacteristically, decides to help.
Meanwhile, in the basement lurks a burglar holding an iron fire poker while searching for valuables. However, the only thing the burglar finds is cheap McDonald’s toys. Thinking they are worth something, the burglar begins to stuff his pockets.
The door opens at the top of the stairs and Dennis descends holding a piece of rope. The burglar is hidden out of view in the dark shadows of the basement. The burglar grabs Dennis mid-stride and holds the iron fire poker to his back. The burglar then demands Dennis to show him where the valuables are or he will kill him.
Dennis, uncharacteristically thinking on his feet, asks him what the point was. He continues to explain to the burglar that he came down to the basement to hang himself because he was in love and couldn’t be with her. Still with his back turned, he tells the burglar this is meant to be and he has just fallen in love. He turns around to this beautiful blond woman wearing a tight, leather, black jumpsuit. He looks at her and reaches for her hands. The fire iron falls to the ground.
Suddenly, Dennis reaches over to a knife in the near distance, holds it to her neck, and tells her no one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
I enter the scene, for whatever reason, and take over for Dennis grabbing her wrists. He takes the McDonald’s toys greedily, in more of a Dennis-like fashion, heads upstairs crossing paths with the 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz.
I ask the detective to bring get me some handcuffs. He gives me some wooden cuffs that are very weak and bendable. She breaks out of these with ease and attempts to secure the now forgotten knife. I grab her wrist once more and tell the detective to grab some real handcuffs.
She tries to pull the same trick that Dennis pulled on her and tells me how much she loves me and tries to kiss me with her lips emblazoned with red, with a hint of purple tint, lipstick. (Don’t ask me how I remembered that specific detail, but as I write the hue is still clear as day to me.) I push her away and tell her that won’t work on me. Then, in turn, I ask how it worked on her, because Dennis typically is a moron.
The 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz comes back down the stairs with one large handcuff (notice this word is singular), so we had to fit both of her wrists in just the one cuff (which works for some reason). She begins to plead her case and asks to be let go. I tell her that I would have, but Dennis is pressing charges. He is rather attached to those McDonald’s toys.
I begin to escort her up from the basement, through the, now, quite narrow stairwell, and up to the kitchen. As I head through the living room to the front, I see a guy from my high school named Jon Durham, but I ended up saying “Hi Jimmy,” which was the name of his cousin.
As we reach the outside, I notice there are several cars parked out front full of people. Focusing on my task at hand I open the back of the squad card and sit her down in the back seat next to another young lady who must have been picked up earlier in the night.
As I walk back to the house, people begin to get out of their cars. Everybody almost looks like people I know (does this make sense?), so I continue on path toward the house. Almost to the front door, I notice Marra, a person I actually recognize. She slightly stumbles and slightly slurs that she’s having the best night; I tell her she doesn’t even know.
As I approached the door, I noticed everyone is now back in their cars and drive away. I decide its time to go to bed even though it was rather bright outside. I lie down uncomfortably on the carpet of the hallway and look up at the clock. It is blurry so I must have taken out my contacts along the way. I, then, move to the kitchen and peacefully fall asleep on the hard-tile kitchen floor.
I then wake up in real life at 5:30A.M. and begin writing furiously before I forget. By the time I was through, it is four written pages long, which I will sequentially type up, correct the spelling (since it is riddled with errors), and send it out to people who would appreciate it. I will start the story with from a relevant quote from Episode One of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia by Dennis. “I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Dennis, Mac, and Charlie, the three guys of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, are staying at a cabin in the woods. It is actually more than a cabin; it is several stories tall with a large basement filled with an assortment of tools. Charlie needs something from the basement but is too scared to go, so Dennis, uncharacteristically, decides to help.
Meanwhile, in the basement lurks a burglar holding an iron fire poker while searching for valuables. However, the only thing the burglar finds is cheap McDonald’s toys. Thinking they are worth something, the burglar begins to stuff his pockets.
The door opens at the top of the stairs and Dennis descends holding a piece of rope. The burglar is hidden out of view in the dark shadows of the basement. The burglar grabs Dennis mid-stride and holds the iron fire poker to his back. The burglar then demands Dennis to show him where the valuables are or he will kill him.
Dennis, uncharacteristically thinking on his feet, asks him what the point was. He continues to explain to the burglar that he came down to the basement to hang himself because he was in love and couldn’t be with her. Still with his back turned, he tells the burglar this is meant to be and he has just fallen in love. He turns around to this beautiful blond woman wearing a tight, leather, black jumpsuit. He looks at her and reaches for her hands. The fire iron falls to the ground.
Suddenly, Dennis reaches over to a knife in the near distance, holds it to her neck, and tells her no one messes with his McDonald’s toys!
I enter the scene, for whatever reason, and take over for Dennis grabbing her wrists. He takes the McDonald’s toys greedily, in more of a Dennis-like fashion, heads upstairs crossing paths with the 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz.
I ask the detective to bring get me some handcuffs. He gives me some wooden cuffs that are very weak and bendable. She breaks out of these with ease and attempts to secure the now forgotten knife. I grab her wrist once more and tell the detective to grab some real handcuffs.
She tries to pull the same trick that Dennis pulled on her and tells me how much she loves me and tries to kiss me with her lips emblazoned with red, with a hint of purple tint, lipstick. (Don’t ask me how I remembered that specific detail, but as I write the hue is still clear as day to me.) I push her away and tell her that won’t work on me. Then, in turn, I ask how it worked on her, because Dennis typically is a moron.
The 5’9” Detective Justin Lorenz comes back down the stairs with one large handcuff (notice this word is singular), so we had to fit both of her wrists in just the one cuff (which works for some reason). She begins to plead her case and asks to be let go. I tell her that I would have, but Dennis is pressing charges. He is rather attached to those McDonald’s toys.
I begin to escort her up from the basement, through the, now, quite narrow stairwell, and up to the kitchen. As I head through the living room to the front, I see a guy from my high school named Jon Durham, but I ended up saying “Hi Jimmy,” which was the name of his cousin.
As we reach the outside, I notice there are several cars parked out front full of people. Focusing on my task at hand I open the back of the squad card and sit her down in the back seat next to another young lady who must have been picked up earlier in the night.
As I walk back to the house, people begin to get out of their cars. Everybody almost looks like people I know (does this make sense?), so I continue on path toward the house. Almost to the front door, I notice Marra, a person I actually recognize. She slightly stumbles and slightly slurs that she’s having the best night; I tell her she doesn’t even know.
As I approached the door, I noticed everyone is now back in their cars and drive away. I decide its time to go to bed even though it was rather bright outside. I lie down uncomfortably on the carpet of the hallway and look up at the clock. It is blurry so I must have taken out my contacts along the way. I, then, move to the kitchen and peacefully fall asleep on the hard-tile kitchen floor.
I then wake up in real life at 5:30A.M. and begin writing furiously before I forget. By the time I was through, it is four written pages long, which I will sequentially type up, correct the spelling (since it is riddled with errors), and send it out to people who would appreciate it. I will start the story with from a relevant quote from Episode One of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia by Dennis. “I hate listening to people’s dreams. It’s like flipping through a stack of photographs. If I’m not in any of them, or nobody’s having sex, then I just don’t care.”
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
My new job
Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. I like that. I like him. I'd like to think he would like me if we ever met. Unfortunately he died; slipped on a patch of ice, so it goes. We were neighbors you know...kinda. He grew up at 4365 North Illinois Street in Indianaplis, IN. I lived at 818 W. 43rd St in Indianapolis, IN. According to Google Maps, it's only a 17 minute walk away (much quicker by car, or course). I forgot his address at first , but I knew where I could find it. I bookmarked it. He mentioned it in his New York Times Bestseller, Timequake. I don't remember what it was about, because it was the first book I've ever read by him. I bet it was about time or tiki torches on Tunisia. I'll reread it soon enough; I'm reading/rereading the books he wrote from start to finish. Only time will tell, I suppose. Interestingly enough, the bookmark I used was the ticket I purchased for the Boston Duck Tours. That was a marvelous day.
Back to my original point, Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. After absorbing his genius, I feel a sense of wit come on. It comes on in a way transferable to paper, or in this case a computer monitor. I had a brief thought come through my head, maybe only a sentence or two long. Instead I started typing and the above vomited out of my fingertips like New Year's Eve party gone incredibly right. I will now postface (that's the opposite of preface, right?) this line with my original thought before I get too carried away (like Sean Astin).
"I like work. I like the people I work with at the hospital. I especially like the custodial engineers (the politically correct term for janitor). They rush over and proclaim that I should take the elevator (even though I'm only going two floors up to my office on the 5th floor...pretty posh, eh?), because he just mopped the stairwell. Those custodial engineers, they really save your ass."
It just ain't a good story unless there's a good pun involved!
End Transmission.
Back to my original point, Kurt Vonnegut's words always seem to open up the right side of my brain. After absorbing his genius, I feel a sense of wit come on. It comes on in a way transferable to paper, or in this case a computer monitor. I had a brief thought come through my head, maybe only a sentence or two long. Instead I started typing and the above vomited out of my fingertips like New Year's Eve party gone incredibly right. I will now postface (that's the opposite of preface, right?) this line with my original thought before I get too carried away (like Sean Astin).
"I like work. I like the people I work with at the hospital. I especially like the custodial engineers (the politically correct term for janitor). They rush over and proclaim that I should take the elevator (even though I'm only going two floors up to my office on the 5th floor...pretty posh, eh?), because he just mopped the stairwell. Those custodial engineers, they really save your ass."
It just ain't a good story unless there's a good pun involved!
End Transmission.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Green Sweata
(To the beat of "Moonshadow" by Cat Stevens)
Oh, I just bought me a green sweata, green sweata, green sweata.
It was on sale at the Old Navy, a green sweata, green sweata.
And if I ever lose my warmth, with goosebumps, and just be cold.
And if I ever lose my warmth, With, Sweata…I won’t be cold no more.
Oh, I just bought me a green sweata, green sweata, green sweata.
It was on sale at the Old Navy, a green sweata, green sweata.
And if I ever lose my warmth, with goosebumps, and just be cold.
And if I ever lose my warmth, With, Sweata…I won’t be cold no more.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Nurses kill me
Today I was working the in PCU (that's progressive care unit) and was listening to nurses talk about facebook...you can't make this shit up:
40ish year old nurse:
A few months ago my daughter and boyfriend broke up. So she updated her picture from one with him to one with her and one of her friends hugging. Also, she changed her relationship status to "In an open relationship" with the friend she was hugging.
Anyway, the next day or so I get a call from her Catholic school wanting to talk to me about something. The teacher said she saw her updated facebook and wanted me (the mom/nurse) to know that her daughter might be a lesbian!
:)
40ish year old nurse:
A few months ago my daughter and boyfriend broke up. So she updated her picture from one with him to one with her and one of her friends hugging. Also, she changed her relationship status to "In an open relationship" with the friend she was hugging.
Anyway, the next day or so I get a call from her Catholic school wanting to talk to me about something. The teacher said she saw her updated facebook and wanted me (the mom/nurse) to know that her daughter might be a lesbian!
:)
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Random thoughts #18
Well, I really can't label 1-17, I just thought 18 would be a good place to start
a) I was looking through the pantry today and had a thought:
"If I were to say the word 'Prego/Preggo' what is the first thing you think of?
If you think spaghetti sauce, you are probably normal.
If you think another word for pregnant woman, you are probably of my generation who's vocabulary has been tainted by the use of slang which is now approaching 2 "slang words" for every "word" we have in the English language.
b) This next one is a just an open-ended thought questions:
"Do you think Elton John wanted for this lyric 'But losing everything is like the 'sun' going down on me' to have a double meaning, a so called double entendre?
Think about it...
See, I don't think so. I feel, specifically in his case, it would be like 'gaining everything,' unless of course he was worried about committing statutory rape.
a) I was looking through the pantry today and had a thought:
"If I were to say the word 'Prego/Preggo' what is the first thing you think of?
If you think spaghetti sauce, you are probably normal.
If you think another word for pregnant woman, you are probably of my generation who's vocabulary has been tainted by the use of slang which is now approaching 2 "slang words" for every "word" we have in the English language.
b) This next one is a just an open-ended thought questions:
"Do you think Elton John wanted for this lyric 'But losing everything is like the 'sun' going down on me' to have a double meaning, a so called double entendre?
Think about it...
See, I don't think so. I feel, specifically in his case, it would be like 'gaining everything,' unless of course he was worried about committing statutory rape.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
God love nurses II
Here is another note dictated by a nurse.
(On assessing if a patient is with it)
"Alert and oriented to person/place and time. However thought current president
was Rommel (correct answer would be Obama) and last president was Ford. When
confronted stated that he always confuses Ford and Bush."
Yes this is completely true. The patient thought Rommel (Field Marshall Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel of Hitler's Nazi Germany) was our president. Of course this went on for about five minutes and we figured the patient may have said "Ronald" as in Ronald Reagan, but I personally like the Rommel story better.
I also enjoy the fact the nurse included "Obama" as being the correct answer, as if the person reading the note has had their head in the sand for the last 2 years.
(The Medical Intern later questioned the patient and got this answer.)
"Some foreigner is the president but I know he's going to be good."
That's that. I cannot interpret that any cleaner or twist words to make it more funny. It is perfect just the way he said it!
(On assessing if a patient is with it)
"Alert and oriented to person/place and time. However thought current president
was Rommel (correct answer would be Obama) and last president was Ford. When
confronted stated that he always confuses Ford and Bush."
Yes this is completely true. The patient thought Rommel (Field Marshall Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel of Hitler's Nazi Germany) was our president. Of course this went on for about five minutes and we figured the patient may have said "Ronald" as in Ronald Reagan, but I personally like the Rommel story better.
I also enjoy the fact the nurse included "Obama" as being the correct answer, as if the person reading the note has had their head in the sand for the last 2 years.
(The Medical Intern later questioned the patient and got this answer.)
"Some foreigner is the president but I know he's going to be good."
That's that. I cannot interpret that any cleaner or twist words to make it more funny. It is perfect just the way he said it!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
God love nurses
This was copy and pasted from a progress note written by a nurse. (Don't worry, there was no HIPAA violations)
"Pt.(patient) tolerated being up and had loose bright yellow stool that had a foul odor of a dead animal laying for awhile. Very foul.
"Pt.(patient) tolerated being up and had loose bright yellow stool that had a foul odor of a dead animal laying for awhile. Very foul.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
To Sing
I would like to find someone who sings absolutely beautiful. I would like to ask them if there is anything they’ve ever wanted and in turn give up their ability to sing. I cannot sing. I would tell them I would be willing to give up something of myself to have the ability. Maybe even a trade could be in order…
I would be willing to give up my knowledge in science, ultimately my career in pharmacy. I figure the only reason I’m in pharmacy is to help people, so I wonder if I can help more people with the words I sing than the knowledge of science?
So far in my life, words that were sung have made more of a difference to me than medicine. But I am still young and all I have needed medicine for was to treat a few colds and some problems with allergies. Would I still feel this way in fifty years though? Only time will tell.
I would be willing to give up my knowledge in science, ultimately my career in pharmacy. I figure the only reason I’m in pharmacy is to help people, so I wonder if I can help more people with the words I sing than the knowledge of science?
So far in my life, words that were sung have made more of a difference to me than medicine. But I am still young and all I have needed medicine for was to treat a few colds and some problems with allergies. Would I still feel this way in fifty years though? Only time will tell.
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