All Hallows Eve

What a day at my new job. There were a few warlocks, a whole host of zombies, a lone doctor (your’s truly) and Dolore as Smarty Pants. As in, she glued Smarties all over her pants. Hilarious.

ImageDelish.

At HACSL, there is a long history of having fun while working to keep up morale. Meaning we have a yearly appreciation lunch, 2 free hours of time off for our birthdays, and holiday parties. And they go all out. There’s a costume contest (for a $5 Subway card just to dress up), and a chili cookoff. Which I won, ousting the gentleman that has won over the past several years.

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Which netted me a Smith’s gift card and a Bed, Bath & Beyond gift card.

I could, like, shower in gift cards. On my way home (at 3:45pm thank you very much) I swung by Smith’s, bought more candy for the trick-or-treaters that I will hopefully have tonight, and turned on the inflatable pumpkin. The weather is finally that perfect temperature where there’s a bite to the air but it’s otherwise beautiful. It’s not fall in the East Coast, but I’ll take it.

ImageNow, come on. That’s gorgeous. Or should I say, gorges.

Now I’m going to change out of my scrubs and watch scary movies before the little ones come knocking. Until next time, stay classy (and spooky) Salt Lake.

Rugby and Homophobia

I never thought, in my wildest dreams (and some of them are wild) that I would be blogging about gays and rugby. After working tirelessly for my college rugby team, which admittedly I joined as a manager for my fiercely beautiful, smart, and strong women, I was encouraged by the fact that after bonding with the men’s team that not only did those hunks of yesteryear accept me, I was just another one of the guys.

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Sploosh.

But I find it uncanny that in a world of competitive sport, where the vast majority of gay athletes are closeted, that the men of rugby have not only embraced their LGBT brothers and sisters, but have been the first ones to show their support (and their bums) to advance the cause of gay rights. Believe me, in thinking of the homophobes I have encountered in my life, the last place I thought I would find support was from the sporting community.

ImageAlso, Vladimir Putin is an assclown.

So when I see, time after time, rugby teams stripping down to shoot calendars that are sold to advance gay rights, I am confronted not only by emotions of gratitude, but also my own stereotypical belief systems that exclude athletic allies that are willing to bare all to help my community.

Yes, there are plenty of backwater people who choose to believe that I am choosing to be something immoral and wrong. But there are so many others on the right side of history, willing to be the voice of the majority, the power players of the culture wars that put aside differences and admittedly awkward moments (I would never be comfortable enough to get naked for the cause) to make a statement.

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Because it does.

So thank you, Greg Louganis, and Darren Young, and Sarah Walsh. But also, thank you Ben Cohen, and Madonna, and even young Josh Hutcherson for standing up for my community. It is people like you that help those of us in the civil rights shadows that make a significant difference in the debate. 

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Being easy on the eyes is not a bad thing either.

Until next time, stay classy (and equal) Salt Lake.

 

H I A T U S ! ! !

Oh em gee, where the hell have I been. I feel awful that life has gotten away from me so get ready for some hard core BLERGING.

ImageSo. Much. Glitter.

In my “free time” (bwahahaha) I’ve made some additional changes. I helped Hyvo out at Fourth Street with some grants, which Big G likes because it means less credit card debt. I of course would rather buy a new television but that’s what Santa is for. But as a result I’ve been short on time and energy. A lot of that energy has been invested in my newest addition, Luna the crazy black cat.

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She’s always watching. Always.

She’s 2ish years old and she’s made herself well at home, taking my spot on the couch and testing her limits with me. She knows I will push her off of the counters (which she probably sits on when I’m gone, but still, small victories) and really enjoys the mice filled with catnip. She’s somewhat of a junkie. Which I support. And I’ve been working on an annual report for work, which required multiple trips to the housing projects to take pictures.

ImageSo. Pretty.

So life is busy. I’ve been trying on top of all of that insanity to pull together a 15 year high school reunion. Which is ironic, in that I haven’t seen like 95% of the people I graduated with since graduation. One thing is for sure; everyone, and I mean everyone has boatloads of children. So we’ll see if we can pull that together all the while learning new things at work, keeping Castle Graystone clean, and spending inordinate amounts of time on Pinterest. Because that’s what I need, another social media time suck.

ImageI’m in trouble.

Promise to be more faithful to the BLERG, y’all. Stay classy (and don’t be tardy for the party) Salt Lake.

The Cat

And then he got a cat. I know, I had my heart set on a dog, because let’s face it, dogs are magnets for hot, available confidants. But the reality of the situation is that I am home like 20% of the time, and I don’t like walking. Because it is exercise. And exercise is the enemy.

ImageDon’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.

With Big G sure to beat the ever-living hell out of me, I went to the Human Society and pressed my luck again. The result is a 2.3 year old black cat named Luna who likes her personal space. Which is code for, “I will hide in close proximity until I decide I want human attention and affection, but mostly I will show up solely when I am hungry.” It’s like having a really low key roommate whose sole function in the relationship is heating up a Hot Pocket every once in a while to remind me that I actually have someone else living here.

ImageDiarrhea Pockets….

So while I languish with what I truly hope isn’t the flu (I called in a sick day, which y’all know is definitely not my style but I felt like hot trash this morning) I’ve been interested in seeing when Luna has reared her crazy head, saddened by the offerings on cable and hoping desperately to get better so I can do something other than can a bunch of fruit.

ImageThis is my kitchen right now.

So I will continue to try to build rapport with my new black cat, recognizing full well that cats are the ones in charge when it comes to relationship management. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s less work for me, and so far, she’s been relatively good at listening.

You know, for a cat.

Stay classy (and clandestine) Salt Lake.

Congress: The Hunger Games Edition

Just think. What if we pulled a Katniss Everdeen on our elected officials? We already “select” our senators and representatives as tributes. Instead of sitting in the round, I think we should build a giant arena with no food and a shit-ton of weaponry, along with robo-creatures that like to kill things.

ImageSee how long it takes them to approve a budget when they’re facing that.

Just imagine. CSPAN would become relevant. We could watch with glee at a distance, as Nancy Pelosi spears John Boehner so she can steal some beef jerky, only to get hatched to death by Ted Cruz. Marco Rubio and Eric Cantor in fisticuffs. Continuing resolutions being burned for warmth. I’d bet five bucks they’d be able to “reach across the aisle” and do their damned job if they had to deal with those crazy trackerjacker bees.

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I wonder if their honey burns too.

And in the end, after the majority of them are lying bloody on the ground, those still surviving literally starving to death, we can take the money that would have gone to their insanely over-the-top benefits plans to pay off the national debt and build infrastructure. Their health plans switched to Medicaid, those who escape the arena will fight fiercely for health care for everyone; money saved could go to a “rainy day” fund. And who needs term limits when you literally fight for your life on an annual basis?

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This is a win, win situation folks. Also, that cornucopia was fierce.

So if you like the idea, feel free to find your representative here and your senator here. Let them know how much you appreciate their service, and how you look forward to them representing as tributes being ripped apart by their colleagues. I’ll make the popcorn.

Stay classy Salt Lake, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

Impossibilities

Usually I write on this post to either share positively fantastic news, something I found truly ridiculous, a personal failing, or some melange of the three. Today, though, was a day of impossibles. For instance, for the first time since the Clinton administration, I’m a “medium” waist.

ImageSo is this guy. He’s cuter though… (call me).

I subsisted on a spoonful of peanut butter and some chewing gum today. I didn’t cut anyone off on the way to work. I didn’t lose my mind when someone was going 20 in a 35. That’s called personal growth.

Top off that insanity with the fact that I woke up at 3am this morning and was still able to bust my ass at work for twelve hours, and you’ve got yourself a day of impossible. Wait, what was that? Is there a new Christopher Rice book coming out? TODAY?! Because I think it is.

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It’s called The Heavens Rise. And it will be epic. Also, marry me.

But the coup d’etat, the reason I know that the end is near, is that I am in second place in the Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center Football Pool. I pick teams based on their uniforms and which of the mascots would win in a fight. And I am beating over 100 other people, people who actually watch the sport and follow it, who will probably read this and then come beat me to a bloody pulp. You know what I say?

Alice-Resident-Evil-RetributionBring it. I’ve got Milla on my side.

So until next time, watch out for unicorns that sneeze glitter. Because today’s events have proven that impossibility is the wave of the future. Stay classy Salt Lake.

Columbus Day

After being schooled by an old teacher (thanks to Mr. P), I misspoke earlier when railing against the closure of one of my favorite places on this Earth for the day to honor a man that contributed much to Western society. A new world. Cholera. War. Slavery.

ImageHe sure could rock a pair of hotpants, though.

It’s “holidays” like Columbus Day that remind me that our country isn’t necessarily broken, but it’s definitely sprained. Political antics that negatively impact the global economy and temper tantrums because of a system that ensures people have access to health care make my blood boil. While federal gyms are kept open for politicians that couldn’t even fix dinner, let alone a federal government, poor kids are denied access to Head Start programs. It’s the new normal, they say. You just have to accept that Washington is broken.

But I won’t.

These douchebags and wastes of life that we have elected, that we have elected, need to do their jobs. If I showed up at HACSL tomorrow and said I was going to grandstand and refuse to do my job, but still expected to get paid in a timely fashion, I would have the imprint of Janice’s foot on my butt as she tossed me out the door.

ImageEssentially just like this. Just saying.

I know it’s not a Rodney King verdict, but why is it that a bunch of pasty white old people get to bitch and moan about the current state of affairs and get paid to do it?! My vote is to lock them all in the chambers, without access to food and water (and proper sanitation) and wait them out. When they get sick of the methane fumes and their growling stomachs maybe they’ll all actually do something other than bluff and bluster to score political points.

ImageIt’s fitting, seeing as how they’re all full of s%^t anyway.

So dear Congress, do me a favor. Rather than refusing to hold a vote because you know that once again you are on the wrong side of history (I am looking at you, GOP, with your brilliant defense of marriage against the gays, your support of slavery and the right to vote for women, and truth be told clean air and water because you can apparently eat oil) Congress is playing with fire. And they’ve set the global house on fire. Again.

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I set fires to feel joy.

Now onto couching with the Kindle. Stay classy (and do your damned jobs already) Salt Lake.