yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Oh, dear sweet Jesus.  Last time my mom's side of the family got together, we had a brisket, done Texas oven-brisket style.  Basically you trim a brisket, slather it with bbq sauce (or, you know, whatever), wrap it tightly in foil, and leave it to braise in the oven for a long time at low heat.  So, since we're having this big combo back to school/bon voyage (to me) party tomorrow (Saturday) in New Roads, I thought that this would be a GREAT time to pull this one out of my ass.  Well... ok, this is the first time I've done this level of butchery, so I don't really have anything to compare to (Beth Lynn made the brisket over Christmas, and I didn't pay a whole lot of attention), but even given that cows are fatty and brisket isn't the leanest cut... I think I just trimmed the fattiest brisket ever in the history of mankind.  Twelve pound brisket, as packaged?  I swear I ended up with... 6 pounds, maybe 8 after it was trimmed.  And trimming beef fat?  Not simple.  I have sharp knives, y'all.  They're good knives.  It took me the better part of an hour, beginning a little after 2am.  And sure, part of this is that I'm totally inexperienced, but still.  Good thing I'm not looking for a job as a butcher.

Still, I'm really excited.  Mandi and Erin brought me back some Vidalia onion bbq sauce from their jaunt in Tennessee, and after one little taste, I knew it was the sauce to use.  So good!  I can't believe a Tennessee-local product has the right characteristics of a Texas sauce: very smoky, dark, a barely hidden spiciness, a good vinegar tang, and just the barest hint of sweetness (yay Vidalias!).  Add a little liquid smoke to simulate a pit bbq and some Worcestershire sauce just because I like it, and I can't wait for tomorrow morning.  And hey, so what if I had to disinfect an entire counter, since it was, uh, covered in cow juice.

In other news, I am now completely free of all academic and work-related entanglements in Baton Rouge!  Wednesday was my last day at LCA, which makes me happy.  I will miss some of the people (those ladies are crazy), but I will in no way miss the damned charts, especially since, uh, they're out of room.  I seriously have no idea where they will put new charts, because there is zero shelf space left.  Good timing on my part.  The ladies of Med Rec were very sweet: they got me a cake (delicious turtle cake from Ambrosia), a card, and a couple of gifts (throw blanket and a tin of cookies).  Hee.  They tried so hard to be sneaky, and they had the worst luck ever!  I kept running into people carrying random things.  A bunch of people also said they sincerely appreciated the work I did and would miss me, which feels good... more than I expected from a job to earn a little money over the summer.

In terms of academic entanglements, I had my last meeting ever with Sylvie today, regarding the Louisiana French Tourism project.  I worked hard yesterday and today to finish up everything, and presented her with a well-documented CD of all my files, a hard copy of the text documents, and the textbook and accompanying CD.  She didn't seem outwardly displeased, and that's about all I can ask for at this point, really.  Plus when I was there I found an envelope full of money in my mailbox (reimbursement from petty cash that I'd totally forgotten about), so that was a nice surprise -- good thing I happened to glance over at the mailboxes and see that there were things in mine!

So tonight, to celebrate -- well, I was celebrating... I think the others were just having a non-specified good time -- the girls and I had a Spanish-themed night.  Erin and I, with Mandi's help (Katie's a slacker) made four dishes: spicy fried potatoes, lemon-parsley shrimp, eggplant dip, and pisto (like a fast version of ratatouille).  All of them came out of my Spanish cookbook, which I haven't used nearly so much as I should.  It's so gratifying to look through, too, since it's basically food porn.  With our meal, we had three Spanish[-by-heritage] wines (in order of my ascending preference): a Trempanillo from Spain, a Malbec from Argentina, and a Carmenere from Chile.  All three were extraordinarily cheap, since they were (a) Origens brand and (b) marked down at Albertson's to $5.99 a bottle.  Score!  To round it out, we watched Almodóvar's Todo sobre mi madre (All About My Mother), which is one of my favorite movies, but also one which I haven't seen since... I think the summer of 2000.  I had forgotten a lot of the plot details, so it was almost like seeing it for the first time again.  Plus I appreciated a lot more of the subtext this time around, since I've now read/seen A Streetcar Named Desire (Streetcar plays a big background role).  We closed out the night with coffee/hot chocolate and beignets at Coffee Call, and then I proceeded home to re-slaughter my cow.  Which brings us back to where we started!

I'm quite tired, so... to bed.

PS: Am I going to hell for my subject?  Or at least to the limbo for culturally insensitive bastards?
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Hmm.  I seem to be working on my third glass of wine, in a rather more-than-standard pour.  Thus we get some stream of consciousness, interrupted with bursts of Project Runway commentary.  I shall put the rest of the entry under a cut, just in case you don't want to get spoiled (assuming I actually give any spoilers).  If you haven't seen the ep and don't want to be spoiled, well... you miss out.  Or you get spoiled.  Pick.

Read more... )
yrmencyn: (Default)
Ye gods.  I am so out-of-date in the updating.  It's unforgivable, it really is.  So I guess you'll be getting random bullet points, because I know if I tried to do a full-fleshed narrative I'd be here 'til next week.  So in the order they first crop up in my brain:
List! )

And that about does it.
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
Work today pretty much blew, to put it simply.  There were an inordinate number of charts to file, and I did nothing else from the time I got there until the time I left, discounting lunch.  I made a dent, but not a big enough one; I'm going to have to work like crazy to get somewhere close to caught up tomorrow.  There should really be more than one person filing, for this volume, ugh.

So by the time I left, after my usual quittin' time, I was beat.  There was, of course, but one thing to do: go home to change, and immediately adjourn to Chelsea's to read a book, drink a beer, and consume an entire plate of cheese fries (and those of you who've been to Chelsea's know how big those plates are!).  I felt completely gross when I was done, but in a very satisfying way.  Sometimes it's completely appropriate to abuse your bodily systems in retaliation against ill-defined blandishments.

I read the first half of Tobias Wolff's Old School this evening, and I'm quite enjoying it.  The reason I'm reading it is because it's the common book for OSU freshmen, and I volunteered to lead a session in one of the survey classes discussing the book; Michelle Herman of the CW faculty has been harassing faculty and staff to lead them :)  In addition, and here's where this gets interesting, I've also volunteered to be on a related question panel on Coming Out.  Old School deals with the narrator coming out as a Jew to his New England prep school classmates, and Michelle and Janice Miller of the Statistics faculty thought it'd be an interesting idea to do a separate session, outside of class, to further explore the concept of coming out -- as a Jew, as gay, as an addict, as bulimic, what have you --, and I volunteered to do that as well: in for a dime, in for a dollar.

In a sterling burst of meta, it functions as a furthering of my own coming out process, which is interesting.  It's only in the past year that I've really started acting on my sexuality, so I feel almost like this panel is a bizarre form of non-film cinéma vérité/reality tv: see it as it happens!  Like CNN, but live-action and at Hillel!  So odd.

Um... I'm bad at conclusions.  It's a failing.  I'll leave with a couple of entertainment-related items.

1.  There is a channel out there that I recently found through [livejournal.com profile] queenmargot, called The Tube.  It's wonderful.  It's what MTV should be: they show videos, and that's pretty much it.  I've seen a couple of PSAs on there, but I don't really have a problem with PSAs, and a couple of promos for WAFB, the local network affiliate, but those aren't too annoying.  AND: they play videos from all over the timeline.  I've seen a few current ones, but also a whole lot of stuff from the 80s, 90s, even the 70s (concert footage, mostly), including a lot of stuff that isn't really MTV fare anyway, which is nifty (though don't worry, mainstream vids have a strong presence, too).  It's wonderful.  Baton Rouge, you can see it on Cox Digital channel 120.  Columbus, you can see it on WOW 140 or Insight 834.  Other markets, you can check the site.  Highly recommended.  Seriously, they're playing David Gray's "Babylon" right now, and it's (a) one of my favorite songs ever (b) never, ever, ever on the radio or the tv.  Score.

2.  Thanks to the inestimable [livejournal.com profile] puppetoflove, I can now share with you a link to the video of the Dixie Chick's "Top of the World" (originally by the fabulous Patty Griffin).  I strongly suggest you all watch it, even if you think "Ew, country music."  Reasons?  Well, first off, it's a great song.  Patty Griffin is by far one of the most talented songwriters of our time, and the Dixie Chicks are very talented performers, and this is a standout track from Home, their best album to date IMO.  If you've ever wondered what it is I see in the Dixie Chicks, this should answer.  Second, the video itself is beautifully done.  It's artful and technically skilled, and it actually adds a layer to my understanding of the song, which is something that I can say for only a tiny minority of music videos out there.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
At work, I was pretty sure that there was nothing I hated worse than a duplicate chart, because when you've got a dupe chart you have to look at them both and combine the bits to make a single chart that has every single thing, but only once, and then discard the rest of the mess.  It's a stupid thing.  Today, though, I found a more annoying thing: a triplicate chart.  I was filing in X-Ray (arg), and I came across a dupe chart. I grumbled, dealt with it, picked up the next chart.  Another dupe!  I grumbled more thoroughly, combined, went to file the resultant chart, only to find ANOTHER ONE JUST LIKE IT.  Huh?  OK, fine, dupe charts happen I guess (although they really shouldn't), but really, people: this means that somebody had shelved a dupe right next to an original and either never noticed or never cared.  Whichever it was, doesn't matter: let the beatings commence.

Whiskey and I are friends again!  A while back (can't find it) I'd poured myself some Bushmill's and it just tasted like ass, and I was very sad indeed.  I was a sad panda.  I finally braved the bottle again tonight, though, and it was very tasty!  I blame a dirty glass last time, or something.  Oh Bushmill's, my friend.

Speaking of alcohol, who bought a six-pack of Mackeson's Triple Stout at Matherne's the other day?  That's right, me.  Mmm, chocolatey stout goodness.  It was even worth them giving me flack about my out-of-state license. (Silly me, I thought they were valid ID in Louisiana.  Guess Louisiana's a sovereign nation now.)

And speaking of Louisiana: after the Terrible Twins, Blue Cross Blue Shield Louisiana started this whole slew of commercials all about "Our Home, Louisiana."  There's actually a whole music video on the BCBS-LA site.  It makes me sad and proud of my adopted state all at the same time.  YMMV, but I think at least for people around here it's touching.

La la la boy.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Today at work?  Slower than yesterday.  I know, how is that possible?  But it was.  And tomorrow will only be slower: we pulled one chart for tomorrow.  One.  And actually, we didn't pull it so much as note that Kelli already had it on her desk.  SLOW.  I think I'll have to bring a book or something tomorrow.  Keep a stack of charts handy, to be sure, so I can appear to be doing something productive, but realistically?  There won't be anything to produce, unless Ashley or Kelli give me lab lists to pull.  I can't believe I'm wishing for lab lists.  Oh, God, only one more day, then it's camp time, blessed blessed camp time, where all I have to worry about is making sure kids don't kill themselves or others, and that there is, for example, at least one toilet seat per ten campers, accounted separately by sex (ACA regulation SF-16).

Today at work was slow enough that I wrote.  It was, in fact, not the best stuff I've ever written, but what do you want?  It was written with a drug pen on pink paper left over from -- I think -- running off lipid sheets.  So there's that whole 8th grade emo thing going on, and whaaa whatever.  Writing as a habitual discipline and all that jazz.  Oh, and as always when I'm working in odd tongues, ye old back-referencing disclaimer-type link.

pálabres )
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Work today was ridiculously slow.  Work is very bad when it's too busy, you understand, so I'm not really wishing, per se, that it were busier, but it's quite dull when it's slow.  It was slow enough today that Mandi and I actually reorganized and redecorated the pod.  Yikes.

Despite the dullness of work, today was really quite good.  Before I even left for work, I found out that I don't, in fact, have to appear in court!  The cop had said I would (since there was a collision), but he was apparently mistaken; good thing I called.  I mailed in my fine, and I also mailed in a written request to take the next defensive driving course and keep this violation off my record.  Combined with setting up my insurance on the new car and making sure I get a dealer tag from Huffines Chevy-Subaru mailed to me to bridge the gap between the end of the current registration period and whenever I get my new registration (I somehow never got one day of), this means that my car is completely dealt with, insured, covered, registered, etc.  What a relief!

Following work, the day only improved.  Rebecca had called me earlier in the day to tell me she had bought new patio furniture, and needed to have it christened by the friendly consumption of beers.  I also brought Chinese food (Mongolian Chicken!  Who ever heard of that?!), so that was very nice.  But I had forgotten, just plumb forgotten, that Jackie had bought a big wading pool at Target.  Well, the mosquitoes kept biting our ankles, so we waded.  And then it seemed feasible to just sit down in our clothes, and thus there was an impromptu pool party!

Pictures follow )

I felt very summery tonight.  I like pools, even shallow inflatable ones.
yrmencyn: (vdub)
Work today?  Ve-e-e-e-e-ery slo-o-o-o-o-o-o-ow.  On the plus side, none of the charts were running around like madmen with evil evil pernicious brains, so that was nice.  We even successfully matched a lot of random crap that was, well, being randomly crappy.  And homeless.  Unconscionably.

In other news, I have set a new record.  I bought my car on Saturday, here it is Tuesday, T+3 days.  What did I do this afternoon?  Lost the key fob*.  Couldn't find it for love or money.  I was fairly sure I'd set it on the table, but it sure wasn't there.  So I used the valet key to drive over to Erin's and figured it would show up soon enough with some judicious morning looking.  When I got home, what was on the table but the key fob!  All is well, though; I'm not crazy.  I asked Erin-the-roommate about it, and she said she had found it in the backyard while letting Sammy out to do her business**.  Must have fallen out while I was watering the plants; the pockets in my scrubs aren't big fans of keeping items contained.  Oh well, no harm done, lesson learned, must ensure that important items are safely placed inside on the dresser before doing, well, anything.

* A slightly confusing usage.  While many cars with keyless entry have the key proper and a separate fob with lock/unlock/iced-cappuccino buttons, the Jetta (and many [all? most?] other VW models) has what they call a 'switchblade key'; the key folds down into the rectangular fob, and the push of a mechanical (as opposed to electronic) button releases it to pop out, like a switchblade.

** I've always loved this euphemistic idiom.
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
Ways in which today was verifiably Monday:

  • I searched and searched and searched for Ms. G's chart today.  I mean tore the place apart.  I finally had to make a duplicate chart with what little bits I could come up with, plus old scans, etc.  Three or so hours later, I found the original chart -- sitting on my table, where it had been the whole time.
  • At the same time, I was looking for Ms. F's chart.  Equally tore the place up over this one.  At one point Ashley mentioned to me that Ms. F's had an earlier appt in Nuclear Medicine.  The chart was, of course, there.  Where it should be.
  • And how about Mrs. M's chart?  I double-, maybe triple-checked the schedule on Friday, confirming that I had all the charts pulled for Monday.  Except, apparently, Mrs. M's, since she had no markings by her name whatsoever.  So then I went off to go find it STAT, and about pulled out all my hair.  I eventually came back to the pod to tell Larrell that I was having trouble finding it, but still looking, and she tells me: "Oh, honey, don't worry about it, she's in a room now, with a chart." *beat* "A chart?  Is it her chart?"  "I guess so!"
  • Last week there were these problem charts (tests without EKG tracings, or without actual values on the printout, or what have you), and they weren't findable last week.  The missing bits appeared in a stack of processing today.  So, good, I guess, but still: where did you come from?!?!
  • Lastly, I got lunch from Subway today.  I had bills and coins back.  The coins totaled $0.91; how many coins did I get back?  Answer: 10 coins -- 9 dimes and a penny.  Seriously?

Monday.  I tell you what.
yrmencyn: (Default)
Work today was actually not bad.  This was really mostly because tomorrow will be quite light; Rees is gone, Hyde's only seeing a couple of patients, and Luikart is on night call (meaning he's only seeing one page of patients, instead of the usual 3; man's nuts).  This is significant because it means I don't have to search for nearly so many charts as I otherwise might.  I was worried I might find the 8-5 workday too long to deal with, but honestly I was ok.  There was always something interrupting me, and that really works for me as long as it doesn't get too out of hand: it's like multitasking on a computer, which I do constantly.  Would have been nice at times to have Mandi to joke around with, but given the choice between futzing around the pod and going to Bonnaroo (as she's doing), I'm pretty sure I'd choose the 'Roo, too.

Also this has been a wonderful week for pod food.  Drug reps have given us catered lunch all four days so far of this week, and it is awesome.  I'm hoping for some free food tomorrow, to make it a solid week.  Now, I'll admit: I have some ideological qualms about the pod food.  It kinda feels like bribing the doctors and NPs to prescribe the specific drug, and that's just not ok.  At the same time, however... free hot lunch.  I mean, we've had chicken pasta, baked chicken, lasagna, red beans and rice, all manner of vegetable sides, sandwiches, salads, cookies, cakes... I don't even see patients, much less prescribe pharmaceuticals, so I feel reasonably unentangled.  And reasonably well-stuffed.

And I get paid tomorrow.  Woot!
yrmencyn: (food)
Just purging myself of some of the random crap that's been in my head.  If you're referenced, realize that this isn't personal, it's just the semi-rational rantings of my brain.

Nurse D: I swear to God.  You can either have a messy desk or you can be inaccurate about what you have on that desk.  Pick one.  If I ask you if you have a chart, you need to be able to tell me.

MJ: No, I'm not going to "I dunno, rock the machine" to get your skittles out for you after they got stuck.  What do I look like, the vending machine juggler?

MJ again: Figure it out.  All of it.

Miss C: Look, I know I've got a Y chromosome, but I'm actually quite ept in the ways of food service/storage/whatever.  The only reason I was doing so many weird things was because you insisted I do them, then forgot about them, only to insist on  something entirely different two seconds later.  I was trying to go along with your bizarre suggestions the better to shut you up.  Obviously unsuccessful.

Dr. H: Yes, the current system is indeed terminally wacked.  Surely someone else sees this, we can't be the only sane people around.  That would be a 600k well spent.

K: Thanks.  You're not spastic.  It makes my life simpler.

A: Will I be coming in at 8 or 8:30 tomorrow?!  I did not sign on as full-time, dammit.

Me: Stop being a moron.  S, of all people, should not walk over to file and find the chart you've been looking for just sitting there; it's embarrassing.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
Hmm.  LCA may be killing my soul slowly, but it's kinda working for my body.  I was sitting at Erin's house a couple of night ago, and I looked down at my leg.  It looked odd, but I couldn't figure out why, it just looked... different.  So I went back to watching Buffy and didn't think about it for a while, until I suddenly realized that the weird thing on my leg was a tendon.  SO I started looking closer, and a lot of the subdermal structures in my leg are more visible than they've been for a while.  Then today, while washing my hands in the bathroom at work, I though, "hello veins."  The veins on my forearms and on my lower biceps were standing out a lot more than usual.  Not freakishly or anything, but more than I'm used to.

See, LCA is distributed across the 9th and 10th floors of our building (plus a few things on the 1st, but I don't go there).  You could take an elevator between floors, but honestly that's just lazy unless you're moving a cart full of charts.  Thus, I'm constantly running up and down the stairs, in addition to moving around a lot in general, and it appears that it's had an effect on my physical fitness.  I've definitely lost some weight in just the couple of weeks I've been working.  It's a good thing, but it surprises the hell out of me.  Anyway.
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
Well.  Mandi wasn't able to make it to work today, due to her car trying to kill itself, so I had a lot more interesting work than I usually do.  It was made more interesting by the fact that Antoinette swept in immediately after she canceled the early morning meeting (that made a lot of people happy) and turned the pod upside down like an avenging wind.  I think in the long run it means less work for Mandi and for me, but it was quite confusing to try and figure out what in the bleeding fuck was going on today: where is this?  what is that?  is this the stack that used to be over there?  no?  well what happened to that stack?  Still, we got it all dealt with.  I got things picked up and processed (and made sense of the carnage leftover from the Great Upheaval), Angel and Sharon jointly dealt with no-finds and add-ons. 

The day wasn't too crazed, really, once I managed to make sense of what the world was doing.  The only truly weird part was, of all things, lunch.  I had brought my lunch, as I often do, and it consisted of a Spanish tortilla (thick potato and onion omelet) and pa amb tomàquet (Spanish tomato bread).  The tortilla I just ate, but the tomato bread has to be constructed on site.  The simplest version of it, which I was doing, is to take a half-tomato and rub it all over the bread, thus soaking it with tomato juice.  Mmm.  So I prepared this morning by halving a tomato and bringing it along with some ciabatta bread.  I do the tomato thing, and I get these looks from Tanis and Antoinette like I have grown another head.  I then had to listen to "Woo, he's not from Louisiana!" and "Guess what he did!" for the next 20 minutes.  I get it.  I eat things that aren't traditional American fare.  I know.  Now shut up, because you're making me annoyed and ruining my very bloody tasty and healthy simultaneously lunch.  Meh.  Next week I'm going to bring in... I dunno.  Anchovy-onion salad.  Pickled mackerel.  Leche frita.  Some sort of fucked-up calamari ceviche, little tentacles everywhere.  Best random comment of the whole affair?  "Our condiments come in jars here!"  Brava, Tanis.  Brava.

On the plus side, I was told I could probably work just a half-day Friday, which means I won't have to get up at 4:30 and drive to Austin!  I can just drive there Friday afternoon and get to see the family for a longer time without being road-drunk.

Ugh, work.

Jun. 6th, 2006 10:05 pm
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
I have to be at work by 8 tomorrow instead of 10.  Kill me now.

ETA: Oh yeah, almost forgot to wish every happy Devil Day. Only comes round once a century!
yrmencyn: (Default)
Yar.  Sunday was actually not at all a bad day.  I did some light reading (by which I mean I read 225 magazine mostly), and then... then it was time to meet the new roommate, and her dog.  Yes, that's right folks, there's a new Kregg!  Erin (this will become confusing) is a 29-yr-old woman who's been doing computer work with Rite-Aid for a while now, and who now wishes to get her Pharm.D.  More power to her.  Frankly, I was most concerned about the dog, since I'm hardly a dog person.  Sammy is an American Eskimo Dog, and I have to say... I kinda fell in love with her.  She's rather agèd (15 years), so she's not too manic, but she's very loving.  Phoebe wasn't pleased about the intrusion, obviously, but she handles dogs somewhat better than cats.  She mostly lay in the doorway to the hall and flicked the tip of her tail.

Erin seems nice, although... this meeting lasted 2.5 hours.  Two and one-half hours, people.  That is a Long Damn Time for what Shane, Rebecca, and I all thought was going to be maybe a 20 minute thing.  Unfortunately, we're all too nice to bluntly say "well, I guess it's time for you to be going," so it just... endured.  I started baking in the middle of it, just for want of something to do. (Financiers again.  Passable.  Made them a bit too thick, so they came out somewhat less fluffy than I'd like -- I think next time, in addition to using less batter per mold, I'll probably whip the egg whites until at least foamy, maybe soft-peak.  Anyway.)  Eventually she and Sammy went on their way, though, in time for Rebecca and I to meet up with some of her TFA folk and see The Breakup.

You see, I love a good romantic comedy.  And I don't necessarily mean a well-scripted, non-generic, masterpiece of the genre, although those are appreciated; Love Actually comes to mind.  All I mean is a solid romantic comedy that doesn't stretch, doesn't make me guffaw, and in the end let's me go "Aww.  That's nice."  It's cheap, escapist entertainment at its finest, and despite my intellectual leanings, I'm a sucker for it.  I pretty much always tear up when s/he gets hir (wo)man [anthro, eat your heart out].  So I went into this with fairly low expectations.  I mean, Jennifer Aniston?  Vince Vaughn?  I'm not expecting Truffaut here.  I was pleasantly surprised -- it's certainly no cinematic tour de force, but they hit a lot of notes right on key, and the script didn't end like I would have expected it to, in true Hollywood conformance. 

Sunday night I spent a lot of time online, chatting.  It was rather nice.

Work today... Bah.  I really didn't have enough food in my system at any point, so I was often hungry and less than on my game.  Mandi was in the same boat, so it got weird at times.  The constant contact with her is starting to worry me... Mandi, lass, you're a very good friend, and I don't want us working so closely to fuck that up.  Boo to that.  So, ah, yes.  Not much to say there, really.  Let's not kill each other.  We may have to continue to relax at Erin's by watching Buffy so as not to kill... quel dommage.

Shane and Rebecca leave on Wednesday for Italy.  Erin-the-roommate won't move in until late June, probably, so do you know what that means?  House to myself for weeks.  And what does *that* mean?  Nakee time!  Nothing really planned for that time of nudity, just a lot of walking around unclothed.  Is that so wrong?
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
Work today was extra special.  Mandi was down in HR (lucky girl), and Angel and I were trying to keep her pod in working order as best I could.  By this, of course, I mean that Angel was getting things done while I ran around ineffectually, because I have NO idea what in the hell I am doing.  So, that was frustrating.  But the coup de grâce came toward the end of the day, when Antoinette stopped by to talk to Mandi.  I was just standing there not really paying attention until I heard the phrase "and Mike'll be here tomorrow anyway."  I was forced to stop her and ask just what in the hell, exactly, that meant and why I hadn't heard of it.

"Oh," quoth she, "that's really why I came down here.  What are you doing tomorrow?"  As calmly as I could, I said that I was, apparently, going to be here.  "It's really informal," she assured me.  "You can wear jeans."  Leaving aside the question of pants length (I mean, it's officially summer now, I avoid long pants as much as I can, so saying I'm allowed to wear jeans is darkly amusing): I don't have to wear scrubs?  Ya think?  If you come and tell me 15 minutes before the close of the business day on Friday that I have to come in on Saturday for a mandatory training session, you damn well better let me wear civvies.  Little warning?

Erin's parents are in town, and they took her, Mandi, Katie, and me out tonight to Louisiana Pizza Kitchen.  Everybody seemed to like their pizzas (and Erin's mom liked her lasagna), so that's good.  There was, however, an epidemic of Mike Ear around the table.  I don't believe I've ever explained this phenomenon, so let me just say this here: I can't hear for shit.  I mean, I hear sounds just fine, and by god I can even distinguish stupidly close articulations (dental vs. alveolar D, labial vs. labiodental F, etc), but my brain often restructures them before interpreting.  Instead of just not catching what someone has said, I will hear simply hear something that differs so wildly from the actual enunciation as to defy explanation.  You say "wineglass"?  It's entirely possible I'll hear "baboon."  Back to the matter at hand, I don't know if it's just that we were at a corner table in a room with lots of ambient noise and few sound-absorbent surfaces, or what, but nobody could understand anybody else.  It led to some amusing things.

Anyway, I want to do some reading before going to sleep (in time to be at LCA tomorrow morning, wearing long bloody pants), so I'm to bed now.  Sleep well, my little chickadees.
yrmencyn: (food)
Well, the driving experiment was a success.  The drive to work (pretty much no traffic) took me about 8 minutes; the drive back from work (rush hour) took me about 11.  Woohoo!  I think even after stupid bloody Staring is re-opened, I'm not going to drive on it, because it's pretty much wretched.  The only tricky part is that my method has me turning onto Staring off of Menlo, where it will likely be bumper-to-bumper, but I guess we'll figure that out when the situation presents itself.

Also, my cat?  Ew.  I'm sitting here at the kitchen table just reading my email quietly, and suddenly I hear this wet HORRRK from near my feet.  Phoebe hacks up a nasty thing halfway between hairball and vomit, then calmly goes over to the food bowl to eat.  When I gave her a look intended to mean "what the fuck." she countered with one that clearly stated, "well, I'm not full anymore."  Which, fair enough.

I'm off to the store to go buy some sour cream.  I'm in the midst of making a barbecue sauce, and I can already tell that I may have overdone it a bit with the smoked, dried chili puree.  I honestly don't even know what those peppers are ([livejournal.com profile] celticmll brought them back for me from Oaxaca), but I clearly should have been more cautious: this sauce is gonna be a scorcher.
yrmencyn: (Default)
But traffic is worse.  I worked thirty minutes later today than yesterday, both because I was helping Mandi (more below) and because I was hoping that the extra thirty minutes might let some of the death traffic ebb.  Well, it didn't.  It made not the slightest bit of difference, in fact.  Just like yesterday, it took me 30 minutes to travel the 2.5 miles from work to home.  By the time I made it to Erin's (I headed straight there; the difference between going to her place and mine is minimal), I was ready either to die or to kill; hadn't decided.  The normal four of us headed out after waiting a good hour or so to retrieve Hans' car from the airport (um... badness.  ugliness.  If you know the involved parties, you already know, and if you don't, you don't care).  Didn't work out, because of... madness, stupidness.  Still, a somewhat productive adventure, and then we sat around and talked, looked at computer stuff.  I think I have a *much* better backroads method for tomorrow; we'll see if it works at all, or if I just get further mired.  Also tried to buy a airline ticket for [livejournal.com profile] rosepurr and [livejournal.com profile] thndrstd's wedding, but the prices seem to have jumped by multi-hundreds in 48 hours, so it appears I'll be driving.  Blast.  But it's ok, I'll have a shiny new car by then (*crosses fingers*), I'll just have to take the opportunity to break it in before the big move in September.

T the Pod Person gets a punch in the face tomorrow, and that's all I really want to say about that.  Well, and that I think I speak for everybody when I say she should get her shit together and do her work, 'cause there's no way her MySpace trawling is as important as other people busting their humps to do her job.  Learned processing from Mandi pretty much all of today.  It is a maddening process, and a humbling one, in that I find myself staring blankly at a piece of paper, absolutely clueless as to what to do with it, and I can only think, "I have a Master's degree.  Why can't I get this together?"  I'll get it, I'm sure, but for right now I'm feeling dumb.  I had not the slightest chance to talk to D today, but I'm told he checked out my ass.  Score.

That's it.  Please forgive the absolute lack of transitions and other writerly courtesies.
yrmencyn: (qc - drunk)
It's about work, which has been amusing me in so many ways, some of them sarcastic.

First off is the filing system, which is hilarious.  Even setting aside the range of shelves that reads right-to-left (yes.), it has some issues.  I know that electronic records are very hard for most medical practices to manage.  The only practice I personally have seen go all paperless is my glaucoma specialist's, and I think they just started out like that, without any prior records to convert -- LCA has the conversion problem.  So, yes, I get that, I do.  I realize that suddenly up and going electronic requires a massive amount of human and monetary resources, all at once.  But still, there's just no call for there to be at least four separate, non-intercommunicating records programs that I can think of off the top of my head.  Not to mention a desperate need for some standardization of file handling practices for the paper files, so you don't have to learn each area's separate quirks and madnesses.  Shelves would help too, I think.  Also helpful would be if people didn't misfile charts; there are only ten digits to work with, and it's a sequential system.  Quite simple.  If beginning student workers in libraries can file LC classification properly, this should really not be hard.  I mean, it's color-coded.  If it doesn't match, it's wrong.

Conversations have been interesting too.  I had not one but two funny ones in the last fifteen minutes of work, in fact.  I'll just recount the last one, since the first is probably one of those "you had to be there" things, where 'there' is defined as 'in my head and with my thoughts'.

Conversation 2, the one which is actually overtly funny: Mike and an unidentified nurse.

Mike: (walks over to collect some charts)
Nurse: Boy, you are H-O-T, where you been all my life!  What's your name what'chou do?
Mike: Heh.  I'm Mike, and I'm just here filing charts.
Nurse: How old are you?
A different nurse: Too young for you!
Nurse: Shut up.
Mike: 23.
Nurse: Well, 23 plus 23 makes 46, and I was born in 1960!  I'll take two of you for my birthday.
Mike: They sell us in pairs at Kmart.

The other amusing thing is coworkers.  My speech (syntax, prosody, accent) gets truly bizarre at work, because my brain likes to accommodate linguistically, and I've got at least two major dialects to deal with, plus a number of personal variations.  Coworkers also happen to include a cute boy, D, who is causing me to be crazy.  I know D is cute.  I know D is gay.  I'm pretty sure from conversation and judicious web research that D is interesting and fun.  The only problem is that he is not generally forthcoming with the random conversation.  This wouldn't be a problem, except that I'm the exact same way, so... nada.  I can't even manage to tell if he has any latent interest in me whatsoever.  I keep meaning to ask him out (just for, say, coffee -- the traditional opening gambit), and I had a perfect opportunity this afternoon.  It was VERY quiet toward the end of the workday, and in the last few minutes of my shift it was just me and him, all alone in the file room.  So what did I do?  Wimped out.  Instead of asking him for coffee, I asked him if he knew the password to the corner computer, so I could clock out.  Lame.  Hélas.  Tomorrow is another day.
yrmencyn: (armadillo)
Evening.  How are y'all doing?  I'm sore, but a little bit buzzed.  This will make sense in a bit.

Work has been going well.  My thighs don't hurt from it anymore, and I feel like I'm starting to work out the geography of the place (I was getting turned around pretty constantly the last couple of days).  I've been chatting with the somewhat taciturn Daniel today, which was nice.  *nefarity nefarity*  I think I won't overly mind going into work on Monday.

Monday, you ask?  Why Monday?  Don't I work Thursdays?  [And you know, now that I think of it, is the office closed Memorial Day?  I don't know.  Hmm.]  Well, I do, generally.  But you see, I kinda wrecked my car tonight, well and good.  Failed to yield on a left turn to an oncoming car that came out of butt-fuck NOWHERE.  I do now know that the airbags on my car (my car, *tear*) are quite operational.  I'm ok but for bruises, scrapes, and abrasions, as is the other guy, but they towed both our cars to some tow lot up by the airport.  Big props from tonight go to Erin, who went and scrounged around in my room for my insurance information, which was unaccountably not in my car, and then drove me home.

Further big props to my parents, who are probably living saints, because they are driving in for the second weekend in a row to bring me my sister's car (she'll be in Montana from Friday til, uh, July).  Judging from the blue book on my car, which is either 3500 or 4950 depending on whether we're talking trade-in or private party value -- I have no idea how insurance calculates it -- I think the poor thing's probably totaled.  So... I'm probably looking for a new vehicle now.  I am quite sad about this.  And no, I haven't missed the fact that I seem to be attracting wrecks like a dead cow attracts buzzards.  It's been pretty painfully in the forefront of my brain.

Please don't ask me any technical insurance questions.  I don't know what the interplay is between my prior claim on the rear-end and this one.  I don't know what will happen.  I simply do not know at the moment, but I'll let you know as soon as I do, so you too can live the vicarious experience.

Well.  Mr. Scalding-Hot Bath, Messrs. Shiner Hefeweisen, Messrs. Twin Bloody Lapbelt Abrasions, Mr. Bruised Ribcage, Mr. Airbag Abrasion, and I now bid you good e'en.


yrmencyn: (Default)

December 2009



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