ramblin’ on.

I updated my Twitter by cell phone this morning, I dunno why.

omshizznit Barbara & Clan sent us housewarming gifts!!!!!  They totally rule but you can’t see them yet because I’m too lazy to upload & edit & all that perfectionist hooey… she sent the most beloved gift… an official NHL Calgary Flames hockey puck.  FUCK.  We’re blissin’.  I want to hang it off the ceiling fan we’re gonna invest in, along with all the other ultimately awesome infinitably hangable stuff, but, well… I’ve been informed it’d look too much like living in an insane crib with control over the on/off switch on the mobile.  I don’t want to live in a home of insane babies.  Again.

I like it when people at work owe me big favors.  You know that shit’s gonna pay off brilliantly, baby.  I had to deliver a pair of shoes to this art gallery down the street for this chick who’s a friend of the daughter of a co-worker, what kind of fucked up shit is that… but man, the place was, like, omg… I thought I’d been thrown back to the BAD 70’s.  Dudes in polyester wide-lapelled polyester shirts and polyester pants & the polyester tie… it was leisure suit hell.  Those art gallery folks, I don’t think I want their drugs.  Anymore.

Jen sent me down memory lane tonight with some mental ramblings from this guy she wanted to hook up with… hahah… just kidding.  She’s not his type, which is a good thing ‘cuz Jen’s real, ya know?  He’s a sick predator.  What it kicked off for me is my renewed complete disdain for revisionism.

If you don’t wanna talk about something, don’t talk about it.  Simple.  And for the love of anything sacred, don’t re-write history in the hopes of justifying or pumping up your life… it IS what it IS, deal with it/fix it/fuck it up, whatever…

But when you lie about your past?  You invalidate other people who played a part in that segment of your life.  I wanna yank his junk off with my own (heavily gloved) hands & feed them to him in a “mental illness” frenzy.

fuckstick.

i’m a negative creep and i’m stoned.

Wow, it’s been a whirlwind week for sure.

So, last Wednesday I had my interview at the community mental health clinic.  I applied for 2 jobs and got one that I initially didn’t want but upon reflection?  I think the HR dude did exactly the right thing.  I’m now, ahem, the Case Aide (the only one) for Intensive Children’s Services.  You’re going, what the hell is that?  Yeah, that’s what I said to HR dude, too, hah.  What I’ll be doing is working with foster kids aged 3-18, sometimes taking them to court-scheduled meetings with their biological parents, observing their behavior & making sure they’re sticking to treatment protocol by way of gentle interrogation.  The part that really makes me waver is the nature of the problems these kids have… during our discussion of “professional boundaries” I was told about 5 yr old kids who, if touched, will immediately think they’re going to be sexually assaulted because that’s all they know.  Touching = pain.  Fortunately it’s the therapist’s job to break through that terrible mindset, I’m the one who gives the therapist the out-in-the-real-world observations he/she is unable to make.  On the other side of the professional boundaries coin are the severely mentally handicapped kids whose only means of communication is touch… fortunately I have lots of people & access to charts to ascertain proper protocol for each child.  There’s a 14 yr old boy who has a rich history of arson, rape, and one murder… you can bet that one tripped me out & there’s plenty more like him.  Hello, world.

I was a little disappointed at first because I wanted to work with adult outpatients or addicts but no, dude puts me with the toughest kids our county has to offer.  Every child I work with has been taken from their biological parents for one reason or another, all of them abused in some fashion.  It’ll toughen me up for sure but damn, I’m glad that I only have to observe & enforce court decisions – like, if Uncle Dan isn’t supposed to be in the room then sorry folks, meeting is over, I report back to the Case Manager & they call the court.  I can’t wait for the day when I get verbally abused by bio-families for not giving them their way… time to hone my conflict resolution skills, huh?  :D

How can I not mention Barbara & her most fantastic clan visiting on Thursday & being consumed with visuals of breaking Luigi’s nuts?  Thursday was a day of memory, I want more of those with my friends.  (jen?)

Then I got sick.  Really fucking sick.  Got some bactroban for this impetigo-like outbreak on my lips, a crapload of blood work done which showed a big zero for anything wrong, & a phone consult this afternoon to discuss the results.  What does my doctor tell me?  He’s referring me to the sleep clinic because he’s suspecting sleep apnea.  HUH?  Yeah, I’ve got deep fatigue… but I’m not sleeping well at night & I’m sure that’s attributed to this persistent low-grade fever that has me drenching sweating one minute & freezing cold the next.  I don’t snore (unless I’m wasted, hah), GOB has never mentioned anything ever sleep apnea-like occurring in our 19yrs together, I’m not getting the connection.  Anyway, at least my thyroid levels were still normal (I’ve had a small goiter for a few yrs now), glucose is awesome (I have rampant diabetes in my family), and no liver or kidney maladies in sight.  Not happy about this sudden hypertension but I’m gonna blame it on the coffee I had before my appointment.  :D  I know, not smart, but it smelled soooooo good.

I’ve learned some great shit this week.  Here’s a sampling.

—+—  There’s this dude I know who’s being forced to look for a job, his time is being clocked in the same building I sorta work in for the time being.  We were watching this video in training (which is apparently NOT orientation but I’ll be damned if I can tell the difference)… the lecturer, Randy Pausch, died of pancreatic cancer on 07/25/2008.  Dude, after having impressed me with his opinion that kids get bathed too much these days & that kids need germs to stay healthy (I swear no lie), apparently didn’t hear what cancer killed him.  He chimes in after the video & goes “He probably died of lung cancer.  Cigarettes will kill you fuckers, you know.  That’s why I gave up cigarettes for meth.  You don’t need to smoke as much and there’s less chemicals you’re inhaling.”

—+—  On the bus to my dr’s appointment on Monday – GOB ‘n I are striving to reduce our carbon mittprints little by little, giving up the car is huge & proving to be rather rewarding – there was a most interesting conversation behind us on our way to Silverdale.  This Woman & her Friend went to a bar.  Both get fucked up, Woman runs over Friend in the parking lot of the bar.  Woman goes to jail, Friend won’t talk to her anymore.  Woman gets out of jail, runs into Friend at a party (this time not literally) & they get fucked up together (again).  Woman and Friend get loaded on tequila & by the end of the night they’re pals again.  The brother on the bus that Woman was relating this story to succinctly summarized the ordeal by stating, “Well, if you drink tequila shots wif summbuddy, they gotta forgive you, yanno.”

—+—  If you work in a childcare facility & one of the rules for child misbehavior is to take a “time out” in the corner beanbag chair facing the other children?  And you don’t agree with this policy because you think the child should be ostracized & ridiculed for some sick reason?  Here’s a hint… don’t yell “go sit in the fucking corner!” to the kid.  That will get you fired.

—+—  Mental health clinics are really efficient at cleaning up human waste left behind in the lobby.

Knitting season is rapidly approaching & I have projects in mid-transit that need to be finished… who the hell knits during summer unless it’s like, you know, your life or something?  One project in particular needs completion & it’s totally knitted up, it just needs to be sewn together.  I hate sewing.  I really, really do.  It’s so… womanish.  :D