Big Brother

I went to Kroger's today to buy some cold & allergy medicine, and I was accosted by Big Brother twice. First was when I was innocently attempting to procure myself a box (a small one) of Sudafed. I had to take a little card from the shelf and give it to the pharmacist. She then asked me for my identification, and proceeded to enter my most personal information into a computer. I informed her that there were a hundred other ways to get high in those aisles, that sudafed was the least of her worries. No, she said- it's to keep people from making meth. Oh. Gotcha. Keep up the good work! The second time was whilst I was in the process of paying for my sudafed and merlot.

I have been going to the self checkout lane because I am insane from hearing the cashier ask for my Kroger card and wait. All my purchases are piling up on the conveyor belt, and she's still waiting for my card. I ignore her, because I like swiping it at the end; it makes me feel like I saved more money, watching all the cents drop off one after another. This showdown always ends poorly one way or another. So, I now go to the self checkout lane. This time, the scanner jams up (again) and the lady in charge of all the self checkout lanes has to come over and push some buttons on my screen. And then she says, "OH! I see the problem- you haven't swiped your Kroger card yet!" "No," I say, "I don't WANT to swipe it yet..." "Oh..." she says, and retreats.

The thing is, I don't even use MY Kroger card, I always use my mom's number (Helpful hint #1- if you forget your Kroger Card, you can enter in your 10 digit phone number into the keypad instead.) because I don't trust the personalized computer generated coupon mailing I get every so often. That means they give my shopping too much thought. I just don't want them knowing how much sudafed, or alcohol, or fertalizer...or gunpowder...I buy. And to trick me into using this big brother card as the only way I can save money is just sad. But since I'm boycotting Wal-Mart and Meijers, and Great Scot is overpriced, and since I live in a non-cultural city, and these are my only choices, I drop my head in defeat. But when my mom gets arrested by the government illegally wiretapping her Kroger Card activities, I shall say I told you so.

Hot

In an attempt to preserve hottness at it's best, and to find out why bad equals hot, I've decided to make a list of the 15 hottest badguys in cinematic history. Some things to discuss: Why is it that the badguy is way hotter than it's heroic counterpart? What is it about these guys that makes you want them to throw you up against a wall? What does this have to do with my love life? Er... anyway, here it is:


15. Ralph Fiennes in Red Dragon (Francis Dolarhyde). Nope, it’s not the hairlip. It’s the tattoos and the homicidal tendencies. (Note- hairlips can be hot, ahem, Joaquin Pheonix...)

14. Colin Farrell in...well...anything. I’ve never seen him play a good guy. He's the ultimate slimeball. But he's a hot slimeball.

13. Stuart Townsend: Queen of the Damned (Lestat) Maybe it was the combination of Aaliyah and hardcore metal meets stripper soundtrack...whatever it was did it for me.

12. Angelina Jolie in Alexander (Olympias) If she can own Colin Farrell, she’s definitely badass.

11. Edward Norton in American History X (Derek). I’m not justifying racial violence, I’m just saying he’s hot.

10. Julian McMahon in Nip/Tuck (Dr. Christian Troy). Shit. Quitcher bitchin’, Kimber. Also, The Fantastic Four as Victor Von Doom. Bad and Rich. Yummy.

9. Lucy Liu in Kill Bill I as O-Ren Ishii. Even the anime was hot.

8. Arnold Vosloo in The Mummy (High Priest Imhotep <-- see? He even knows he’s hot!!!).

7. Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire (Stan). He was uber hot till he got old and fat. Oh, and then he died. But still.

6. Johnny Depp in Once Upon a Time in Mexico (Sands) and Blow (George Jung). Johnny is hot in goddamned everything, though.

5. Aaliyah: Queen of the Damned (Queen Akasha). See number 13.

4. Christian Bale in American Psycho (Patrick Bateman). What is it about serial killers?

3. Justin Theroux in Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle (Seamus O’Grady). When he came walking out of those flames, I gobbled it up, fake Irish accent and all.

2. James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause (Jim Stark). The title says it all.


1. Al Pacino in Scarface. Ultimately, hands down the hottest badguy in history.




Then there's the honorable mentions: I can explain these. Tough is hot. They're not badguys, but badass...


Hugh Jackman in X-Men: Wolverine, and Van Helsing


Clive Owen Sin City, King Arthur. He’d make a wonderful badguy, unfortunately I haven’t seen him in the role yet. (Only in my dreams.)


Vin Diesel in The Fast and the Furious (Dominic Toretto), xXx (Xander Cage), A Man Apart (Sean Vetter), and Pitch Black (Riddick).


Antonio Banderas in Desperado (El Mariachi).


Brad Pitt in Fight Club (Tyler Durden) and Troy (Achilles). It's Brad, for God's sake...did you think I would leave him off my list??


Russell Crowe in Gladiator (Maximus)


Michelle Rodriguez: The Fast and the Furious (Letty) I could watch her make out with Vin all day long. And I have.


Gina Gershon: Face/Off (Sasha). She's got "Jolie appeal". It's in the lips.


Viggo Mortensen in The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Aragorn)


George Clooney in From Dusk till Dawn




Did I miss anyone??

I'm sick.

I'm home sick today. And I'm not faking it. I have a terrible head cold and I just discovered body aches this morning. Being sick yesterday prolonged my hangover recuperation, so that may be part of it too. Nevertheless it never ceases to amaze me what doesn't get done when I'm under the weather. The dogs didn't get out for 12 hours because football season started last night and Brandon was hypnotized. Went straight to bed without letting them out. This morning I got up and there was poop to clean up. A lot of it. (Did I mention that I'm sick?) FURTHERmore, there was a dead mouse in the mouse trap. I cleaned up the poop, but I'm not touching the mouse. I called Brandon at work and he's coming home on his lunch break to take care of it.

Murder...part II

We have mice. Or... we had them.

I heard the scurrying of tiny mice feet a couple weeks ago, but without further evidence, I dismissed it as ghosts. (I'd rather have ghosts than mice any day.) Then yesterday morning I woke up and found mouse poop in my silverware drawer. A LOT of it. (Which sort of makes me wonder where they've been pooping up until Saturday night.) Anyways, Liv reminded me of a couple mouse traps in the garage, so I took matters into my own hands, setting the traps loaded with, what else-- cheese. Since I've never set mouse traps, and I was pretty sure only cartoon mice really like cheese, I never expected to actually catch anything. Imagine my surprise then, when, this morning, I found a (very large) mouse dead in one of my traps! (They DO like cheese!)

Once it registered that there was a dead mouse in the trap, I closed the door and ran away. I have a feeling it died a terrible death, by the looks of things. The picture is burnt into my head: the trap was snapped over his eyes, and there is a puddle of dried blood on the cheese from his nose. Oh, Gawd, how tragic.

First birds, then mice. Karma will catch up with me eventually, I'm sure of it.

I have graduated into adulthood... And it only took 28 years.

My job is not for the weak minded. Some days it's not even for the strong minded. Surgery is an area ignored by most labor laws of the civilized world. It's a place where if you make the business (a lot of) money, you are allowed to treat the employees who are hired to help you like pig shit. No, not cow or horse or chicken shit, like stank ass, you can smell it 10 miles away with a good strong wind, pig shit. It's a place where anything goes. Sometimes working in a place where you're not professionally hindered by silly things like sexual harassment laws, well, that can just make the day go a lot faster. But then there's those other days.

The thing about doctors is that they're psychologically changed by 20 years of schooling. This can be for the better, or for the worse. Some keep their sense of humor, and they stay human beings, and they're genuinely a blast to work with. You are able to use your knowledge and work with them, for the better of the patient.

Surgeons in general are different than other doctors, in that they are an extreme of their specialties. They just don't just make decisions, prescribe drugs, or give advice, they actually screw with people's insides, and make immediate physical changes with their hands for the better, instead of indirectly with drugs, therapy or advice. That changes things.

Then there's orthopods. Orthopaedic surgery is the main moneymaker for hospitals. Without them, there is no money. The personality difference between them and other specialties is a mystery to me. Maybe it's the ability to break a human femur with your bare hands that makes you different. Maybe it's the empowerment that they get from hospitals being scared to lose their business, and letting them get away with murder (not literally). I don't know.

One doc, in particular, is the epitome of nasty high school football captain all grown up. Picture the one jock you remember that beat up all the squirrelly smart kids just cause they could. He was very smart but mean, and generally speaking, better than you. Well, he grew up and became a doctor. A very very good doctor.

Most people in surgery are scared of him, because if you don't anticipate his every need, you get verbally mutilated. Sometimes, if you do anticipate him, that pisses him off too, and you get verbally mutilated. By default, if he's had a bad day, which you don't know because he doesn't talk on his best or worst of days, just stay away from him.

You have to be a personality chameleon to work in surgery. Of course you have to have skill- you have to know each case, but be flexible to change with moods, with events, with doctors. You have to know your anatomy, your instruments, and most importantly, your surgeon. You have to know the right time to do or say anything. If you're good, you can work with anyone on any case. The bonus level is defeating the "boss" without losing your dignity. Wednesday, I defeated the "boss", although I'm not done with the game. (There will be many more bosses to defeat.)

A week before, I worked with him on a case which uses 2 scrub nurses. One (the first scrub) runs the table, and hands off instruments, and the other (second scrub) just stands there and holds the leg, bending it into uncanny positions by order of the surgeon to facilitate access to the joint. Mostly, that person stands there and looks pretty. If they're nice, they backup the first scrub person while she is busy putting together instruments. This case is very difficult. Especially with a difficult surgeon. And he had already done 3 total replacements at another hospital, and he was on-call. So he was in a bad mood.

The first scrub I was working with had her back to the surgeon excessively. It's necessary sometimes to prepare your stuff, but that day almost every time he needed something, she was there, back turned, and, as I was second scrubbing, I had to hand him whatever he needed. He had to ask for things twice, sometimes three times. Which is never good in any case, for any doc. I had her back, to an extent, but I was doing my own job. There wasn't a lot of room to give, and really, I was going above and beyond, since it was not my job. But I'm just nice like that.

By the time it was my turn to take orders, he was pissed. Mega, ultra, uber pissed. And instead of raising his voice, he was mumbling. Behind a mask. He wanted external rotation and abduction. But did he say abduct or adduct? Did he want the neck exposed or was it time to pop the hip back into its socket? He had to trial another cup so I wasn't sure. I cringed as I asked him to repeat himself. At that time everyone in the room could feel the intensity, so everyone spoke simultaneously. The assisting orthopod, the PA, the first scrub, the circulating nurse, and the rep all answered. At the same time. "A-duct!" Was it a "b" or a "d"?! Fuck. I knew I was dogfood if I asked again, so I just externally rotated and stood there, neither ab nor adducting.

That was when the first scrub adducted the leg for me. That was apparently the wrong direction, because the surgeon blew a gasket. An industrial sized orthopedic gasket. Curse words flew, insults; it was an attempt to make me feel 2 inches tall.

And, yes, I was humiliated, mostly because the first scrub set me up. But I refused to let him see me defeated. Most times when this happens in the OR, people get all stirred up, nervous, start apologizing, and sucking up. I stood there, silent. Pissed. I didn't talk back- I knew better (he'd have my job) but I didn't break. He finished up, and as he was suturing, it was tense. He was silent. I forced an indifferent, pissed look onto my mug as well, as I cut his knots.

Unwavering. He finished his first layer, and looked to the first scrub for his second layer of suture. Her back to him was like a knife into the suffocating intense air. Instead of asking for more suture like any other doctor would, defiantly, he stood there- silent. As a second scrub, if you're nice, you help the first scrub by alerting them to situations like that. But furious, I, too, stood there silent, refusing to facilitate things any further. 3 days later, she turned around to find us both standing around the patient's pelvis, our arms crossed, having a silent showdown.

He finished closing the wound. After the case, he left the room, his black aura following him out the door. The broken people in the room bore him farewell, feigning unbroken voices. He said nothing. I said nothing.

After cases like that, the surgeon bans you from his room. (If you're lucky.) But he can't really do that realistically because of the limited number of staff who actually know those cases. Some of them now refuse to work with him. So that leaves maybe 2 people for him to do his cases. Unrealistic.

I'll be honest. I wanted to not work with him again. He doesn't forget and he never forgives. So normally when you do continue to work with him after cases like that, he just gets more and more pissed, treats you worse, and you get more and more nervous and naturally screw up more.

I saw him in the hallway the beginning of the next week. He rounded the corner and accidentally began to apologize for running into me, till he realized it was me. His apology stopped short. I checked the schedule that day and found myself scheduled to be in his room the following Wednesday. 3 staff members are needed for those cases. One to be unsterile, one to second scrub, and one to first scrub.

Instead of worrying about it, I decided I would take the bull by the horns, and chose to first scrub that total knee replacement. He was not going to scare me out of his room. It had been several weeks since I had the opportunity to first scrub his style knee replacement, and the last time was with another doctor who does it a little differently. But that was no matter. Wednesday was D-day.

It takes me about 40 minutes to set up my tables for those cases, and you usually have 20 minutes between cases. There is tons of room for error, and since I just learned totals a couple months ago, and had only scrubbed one or two with him, it was slightly nerve wracking. My chances of failure were worth betting a lot of money on. But luckily, the case ahead of his moved to a different OR, so I had more time than usual to set up.

He came into the room and saw me setting up the table. I could feel the tension instantly. I kept my cool, not letting him see me nervous. When you are 100% sure you are in for a terrible case, it can make you a little nervous, even me. I fumbled at first, but then fell right into the case. He picked up speed to catch me slipping, and held his hand out silently to make me anticipate incorrectly his next instrument. I was all over it. It wasn't flawless, but it worked. At the end of the case, he broke scrub, said my name, held my eye and said, "Thank you."

This is absolutely unheard of. Especially in this case. I won! Things are back to normal. Not better, mind you, but we're back to square one. All that for square one. Jesus.

Poo... Winter is nigh.

Well, kids, here we go again. It's 12 noon and it's only 66°. I can feel the depression setting in. Soon, it will be time to retire my cute tubetops and 37 pair of flipflops in exchange for dumpy frumpy winter clothes. Which, honestly, isn't my biggest complaint, considering I'm not 22 anymore. No, it's just the muddy funk that comes over me once this time of year starts setting in.

Ohio winters aren't terribly cold, or horribly blizzardish. That's actually one of the reasons I hate them the most. If there were a solid 2 feet of snow the entire winter, I might honestly not head so deep into depression this time of year, every year. No. It's the combination of cold, and frozen solid ground, and gray skies that does it for me. It leaves nothing to do. No snowboarding, no sledding, no snowmobiling, and usually no iceskating. It's just cold.

This time of year, fall, is almost worse than winter, because I spend a lot of it anticipating winter, not to mention, tending to my horrible hay fever. The combination of allergies and spending 75% of your workday scrubbed in at the surgical site, sterile, is never a good combination. You spend a lot of time hiding runny noses and watery eyes behind your mask and eyewear. There aren't a lot of things worse than sneezing into a mask.

I compare the feeling to this: I've had jobs I've truly hated. But you do what you've gotta do for the sake of eating and surviving. Eventually you get to the point that when Friday comes along, you get excited. I mean you're counting down the hours and minutes to the weekend. Staring at the clock. But then once you clock out that Friday, the countdown begins again for when you have to go back to that shithole again. Sundays are ruined because Monday is the next day, and this anticipation for it becomes overwhelming. It gets worse and worse every weekend. When you get to that point, you start calling in for no good reason. You wake up to your alarm clock with it already in your head you're not going in. You call in to work, with that guilty feeling in your gut, cause you know your aunt really didn't die, or you aren't truly passing kidney stones. But you've got the bit down perfectly. This is when you know it's time to move on.

I've got the same knot in my stomach about winter. It gets worse every year. This year I made a good anxious attempt to get out of our lease and move to the south. And not the south of Ohio, the south of America. Some place close to the equator would be great. I don't care how hot it is, just find me a place with grocery stores or restaurants that chill the place to arctic so I can cool down. Some place that rain is something that happens but instead of it happening for 12 days non-stop, it just rains and then it's beautiful again.

Anyone that knows me, though, knows I have a pretty bad case of ADHD. I like a change of scenery about every 3 months or so. This includes living arrangements, jobs, boyfriends, pretty much anything stable. And if I can't find a reason to change them, I make one up. (Subconsciously, or otherwise.) So I'm wondering if this is what's going on. Winter is such a boring time of year.

But then I went to the kids' open houses at school, and I found a brand new feeling. It had something to do with the comfort of seeing the same teachers, the same kids, the same parents. It felt a little okay. I realized something then. I can be all the ADHD I want, but I think my kids need a little stability. So, here I go again, another year in northwest Ohio. Maybe this year will be like the third month of my relationships. Once I get over the three month hump, it's all downhill from there.