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I Am Tired of. . .

16 Aug

Doing the work of a good LVT or two assistants and getting paid like a kennel worker.

I’m also tired of never receiving praise or accomodation, but getting lots of criticism and responsibilities thrown my way.

Vet hospitals have a habit of eating their good workers alive.  They will take a good work ethic or any sense of dedication/loyalty and just use it up.

Even if a person overextends themself and works more then they want, harder than they can, and at a higher level that could be expected–vet hospitals want more out of you.

This treatment makes me tell myself that in the future I must remember the employees when I am in that veterinarian/ownership position.

This common problem makes me mentally exhausted, leads to burn out, and makes me bitter.

I dream of getting out of the tech-ing jobs for good, as in out of the field all-together–or at least getting paid appropriately for my troubles.

Or of being a vet where I can be the one calling the shots and asking people to do things to help me.

Conflict Resolution is not a Veterinarian’s Strength

10 Mar

You would think it would be.  They are compassionate enough to want to work with animals.  School trains them to be sagacious in dealing with clients.  They are astute when dealing with health crises.  Maybe all of these attributes just don’t extend to staffing issues.  I have seen some vicious parleys between veterinarians and their subordinates almost everywhere I’ve worked.

I walked into work Monday to see a nasty note reprimanding my performance on Saturday.  My cheeks reddened with embarrassing at the public admonishment, and my temper became incarnadine with fury at the unfairness.  Apparently I had not “gently mixed” the ruby blood sample well enough, and the numbers were askew as a result.  Seriously–you can just tell me on the day it happens.  You do not have to enumerate my every mistake in a missive for all to see and send the other doctor to lecture me about it two days later.  It ruined my whole day–right when I set foot in the door.

When I am a veterinarian, I swear, it will be a hard and fast rule to only chastise staff in private.  It is a real problem in small animal medicine at least.  At my first job, Mary saw every decision she made as self-evident truth, and would regularly bark, “Don’t think!” if someone attempted to explain their (perceived) wrong actions.  At Noah’s Ark, the doctor would lose her temper (I postulate it was because she was stressed and they COULD be shit-heads) and scream at staff members in front of everyone.  I hated it–even if it wasn’t directed towards me.  At the emergency hospital, the doctor’s adage was one of anti-social behavior.  He was surly, scary, and short-tempered in general. . .  In Seattle, one of the vets used an axiom of sarcasm, and mean-spirited banter, as well as losing all patience (and mores) and screaming while strewing things of shelves, and generally making a huge scene.

So this current passive-aggressive public humiliation is not the worst, but I think all of the above behavior is out-of-line and counter-productive.  I wish the veterinarians I have worked for could just slake their aggression and talk (calmly) to the staff.  I think co-workers and authority figures should moderate their tempers even if they are super-annoyed and work closely together.  And if they can’t–they should hire an office manager to satisfy disciplinary issues with poise.

While we’re talking about authority figures I want to bring up another power issue.  I venerate the veterinarians I have worked for.  Even if I think some of them are total tool-bags as people, I respect all the hard work they had to do to get in, and pass veterinary school and their boards.  They are obviously perspicacious if they have made it this far.  That said, I refuse to grovel at their feet.  I am a person too, and that should also garner a little respect.  I am hard-working, plucky, and human.  I have many attributes and though I am not a doctor, I should never have to kowtow just because of that fact.  I absolutely HATE when veterinarians have some power/dominance issues and require me as staff to boot-lick and defer to them in ALL matters.  Doctors that get their self esteem from making their staff humble themselves constantly are high maintenance!

All of these concerns would be mollified if veterinarians would learn to treat the staff like people.  As a leader, the doctor should be conciliating problems that arise instead of exacerbating  them.  In a crucial anesthetic moment, does the surgeon get stressed (well of course they do, we ALL do) and panic rather than buckling down and taking steps to correct it?  Staffing should not be any different.  Logic should not take a back seat to emotions.  When I am a vet, I plan to have high expectations, but when things go wrong, I will pacify my anger and deal with them.

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Can You Blame Me for Being FRUSTRATED?!!

6 Feb

I tried to tell myself not to be bitter.  I maintained my integrity and probity throughout my college years, tenure at Noah’s Ark, and application process.  What do I care if other listless, (shit-heads) misrepresented themselves in order to succeed?  Things ended up working out for the best—even better than my original plan.  It still angers me that Mizzou accepts a deplorable caliber of (lying) people these days.

Don’t get me wrong—I think the school conducts its business with veracity and is stellar (or used to be, anyway).  Every veterinarian I have worked for has graduated from the school, and couldn’t be doing better.  They are smart, talented, and caring—excellent examples of the profession.  I look up to the people I worked for (maybe not in their personal lives) professionally.  Lately though, Mizzou is letting. . .  Just unsatisfactory people in!  I would like to talk to the crazies on the admissions committee, because they are obviously clueless.

I started to question them when “Katrina” entered into a class, when she didn’t have as much animal experience as me.  I felt we were equal candidates, except she was a year ahead of me in school and had already obtained her degree.  I felt I gave up my own spot in that class by getting her a job at a veterinary hospital.  She didn’t really work before that, and I kicked myself for giving her that advantage.  She was my friend though, and had fantastic grades, so I was happy for her.

When they let in one of the M’s, who portrayed herself all exactitude and fidelity, but really followed through with, and did as little as possible I was horrified the school couldn’t see through her prevarications of “hard, honest work.”  I saw firsthand how this Unaccountable M was treated differently in our college classes.  She lived in a “bubble” so to speak, where her attractiveness garnered her many perks that no one else had.  I thought the school was crazy.  While I would accept mediocre quiz and test grades, knowing that I got the questions wrong, and should of studied more, Unaccountable M would meet with the professor and nickel-and-dime extra points out of him.  I can NOT tolerate this form of deception!  I would never even have the audacity to ask–her answers were just as wrong as mine.  I felt mine was the more truthful way to complete a class.  Her connivery got her an A, while I got a C–so I guess she IS smarter, in a duplicitous way.

This M did nothing but attend college, until her Senior year.  A lot of veterinary students take this route, but it doesn’t make it right.  And the last year of college is a really late start for pre-vet students.  She hadn’t even done any clubs or sports in high school, probably because she is so flaky she is unable to stick with anything.  THEN, in an act of guile, she joined a lot of clubs, and took on 2 jobs (working minimal hours at each-12/wk?) in that last year just so she could write in on the application.  The worst part about this chicanery was she did not put much time into any of these endeavors, and she half-assed everything she did.  As a matter of fact, she worked 6 hours a week at one job so she could keep her housing, and worked only weekends at Noah’s Ark—though we were short-staffed and could have used her waaay more.  Also, I say worked, but really mean chatted with everyone while other people finished the tasks needing to be accomplished.  I forgot to mention she FAILED her freshmen college classes because she was too wild.  The vet school still let her in, while denying me.

The latest undeserving person, (that prompted me to write this blog) also worked with me.  I use the term ‘work,’ loosely.  This girl was late almost every weekend—not just 10 minutes, we’re talking HOURS.  She would offer some sort of artifice to explain away the lateness, over and over.  Then she would offer some lame canard only to do the exact same thing the next weekend.  She literally left work to go get lunch one Saturday and got high–on work time!  This is not conjecture, her and the other offending co-worker were open about how they were “pulling one over” on our employers.  AND she (they) came back to work (high) and sat there stoned.  Luckily (or un-luckily, depending on how you think about it), my employers are naive and didn’t notice.  They didn’t even have to offer any falsity or fib to avoid getting fired.  Just the kind of person you want making life and death decisions for your animals, huh?  She was always up to something, using trickery to deceive our kind employers.

During that time, she would also take random pills with alcohol on weekends (or whenever).  This happened on a few occasions, because she was so sloppy.  Once she was so messed up that she was wandering the streets, had to be carried to an apartment, than peed her pants!  This girl ended up quitting her job “because she didn’t want to wake up early in the morning.”  She never actually told her employers either—she quit through a phone call with a co-worker.

At school, she failed her first 2 years of college and dropped physics and chemistry cause she missed so many labs.  She had to re-take science in the summer, and (get this) her mom came to lecture with her—to make sure she made it to class!  This girl just got accepted into MU’s 2013 veterinary class.  What the FUCK??!

After letting these losers in, the school wonders why they have such a high rate of transfers, failures, and drop-outs.  Let’s see, 9 people in the 2010 class and 11 in the 2012 class!  When you only have a class size of 80 to begin with, that’s a huge deal.  It also means some person that wasn’t accepted to the school (me) got gypped.  Some etard that left those classes took my spot (I was on the alternate-list) and wasted it.  But really–what does the school think is going to happen when they let these people in their school?!  It shouldn’t upset me, cause hello, the veterinary school I’m going to is in a WAY better climate than the Midwest, but c’mon—is this for REAL?!

Cat’s Meow Eval

24 Jan

I had my 3 month evaluation today and one of the (few) things that needed improvement was my organization.  Meaning, I catalog and itemize things too much–as if that’s possible.  It seems every veterinary staff is set in their ways–as inefficient or crazy as they may be, and hates for someone to come along and make changes–even if they are for the better.  Veterinary employers get downright surely if I move one thing!  I do not move anything unless it makes more sense!

Before I get too overwrought–I should mention I love my job.  It’s among my favorite jobs ever.  A Christmas bonus would have been nice, but other than that, this veterinary hospital may be my favorite.  Also, I sound much more belligerent and agitated about the few negative aspect of my evaluation than I actually am.  I guess I just disagree with some of my characteristics they do not like as well.  I’m not all that over-done about it–I certainly do not expect anyone to like every single thing about me–nor do I like every portion of other people, or any particular hospital.  Everyone/thing has their flaws.  And those flaws vary between the perspectives of the people seeing them.

Though this is the philosophy of this particular group, I can’t say they are the only ones.  Anyhow, I’ve heard this time and time again at various jobs.  The culture at all veterinary hospitals is change averse, that and they rudely think the way they do things is not only the best way, but the only way. . .  Back to the example of vet ethics and fear of change:  Remember Mary and the DVVH labeling incident.  You would think enumerating items in the cabinets and shelves would be a positive change, but she about had a melt-down over it.  She was so excited over it and took this belief so far as to gruffly remove the typed labels off the cabinets–which I found counter-productive, but it illustrates my point here.  And, God, the time I moved the dog food bin to the other side of the laundry pile at Noah’s Ark–where it wasn’t in the way of traffic anymore.  My change-averse employers had a conniption they got so nervous and testy, that they made me move it back–to the middle of an isle-way.  Get this, so that people could find it.  That’s the ethos of grumpy veterinarians for you.

The veterinary profession as a whole does not like things indexed in a different way than they are used to.  Every decision has been in effect for as long as that vet has been there, which is anywhere from three to 40 years.  Sure, vets love it when you are a go-getter, and train yourself, and follow lists and count everything come inventory time–but heaven help you use that same OCD to dare tabulate anything differently than they’re used to or *gasp* move something!  They do not condone change–in any way, shape, or form.  I hope when I own my own business I will exculpate the go-getters trying to better my practice, instead or having a hizzy-fit.

I should calm down this rant a little though, because my Cat’s Meow eval was not only good, it was excellent.  They were appreciative of most everything I do, disregarded things I thought might be seen as flaws (monitoring anesthetic) and at one point, my boss said I was the best employee right now.  Mostly because I’m not jaded and I do not stand around and gossip, but also because they like my general skill-set and work ethic.  I satisfy the job requirements and go above and beyond on a regular basis.

I have always had an unparalleled work ethic.  My mom is passionate about her teaching career and loves to spend every waking moment honing her teaching.  My dad had to do hard, physical labor his whole life.  He hated it, yet was loyal and hard-working to the extreme.  He showed such dynamism at work that he was always the most depended upon.  I inherited/learned these stellar traits.  My efficiency at work is great, because I am always moving.  I am productive to the extreme.  Every job has taken notice of not only my proficiency at the job, but at my force, vigor, and strength at achieving it.

So even though it’s mostly the bad things and criticisms that stick in my mind, I should slake my hostility, because for the most part they all really like me and pardon most questionable or negative things I tend to worry about.

Another good thing about the performance review is the raise I was granted.  Obviously they remit any true ill-will toward me, because they are recognizing my value monetarily.  If nothing else moderates my annoyance at the negative things they had to say, the fact they are quenching my need for more money will do it!

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Noah’s Ark Brainstorm

22 Jan

heavy, wooden door; kennel room, grooming room, and the runs; shiny, metal cages, blue-gray walls, streaked with dirt, etc; tile floor; shelves containing cleaning supplies; colorful leashes hanging from the shelf; black garbage can containing food; white bathtub; dogs of all shapes, sizes, and colors; feces; urine puddles; muddy/poopy footprints; silver bowls, colored towels; stacks of folded laundry

mud; browned grass; trees; black asphalt of the parking lot; silver chain-link fence; blue hospital; billboards on the side of the highway; cloudy, gray sky; dirty concrete; hose; hill-side; the mall in the distance; cars; grass; colored leashes; co-workers; dogs

shelves of neatly lined food bins; tall, white kennels; tile floor; silver exam table; dirty litter-boxes; feces; vomit; wet and dry food; streaks of pink Amoxicillin; cats of all colors, sizes; colored towels/blankets; plastic, square, blue litter pans; stack of newspaper; grimy trash can

barking; whining; shouting of co-workers; sometimes rain drops; water from the bathtub; water filling water dishes; water spraying runs; silver dishes clattering; the scraping of kennels being cleaned; spraying of Rocal; footsteps; running; clamor; doors slamming; brush scrubbing run walls; dry food being scooped; things getting knocked over

sucking-sound of boots in mud; panting; dogs running; stories and laughter of co-workers; traffic from highway below and mall and parking lot; the ding of clients coming and going from the hospital; slamming of kennel doors; barking; baying; distant sound of scrubbing & water spraying in runs; barking from inside the building

meowing; hissing; growling; spraying of Roccal;

feces; urine; dog food; wet-dog; Roccal; bleach; humidity; diarrhea; vomit;

humidity; grass; mildewing mud; plants; dirt; rain;

ammonia; urine; diarrhea; vomit; cat-food; tuna;

moisture; leashes; fur; slickness of bleach/cleaning product; gritty, dry food;  wood of cleaning-brush handle; heavy boots on feet; crisp scrubs; sometimes sweaty scrubs; sometimes cold scrubs; sticky; grimy door handles; dog tongues; sharp teeth

sometimes grubby gloves; stiff leashes; mud; spongy ground; slick grass; tugging on the leash; jerk of dog trying to go; thud of dog paws on chest/back; slobber; spatters of stuff from dogs’ fur when they shake; cold, metal fences

fur; slimy wet-food; dry food; teeth; claws; soft towels; squishy poo;

salty urine; the smells;

spatters of stuff from dog fur; urine; mud’ crunchy dirt flecks; rain drops; soft snow flakes

sweet, bubble-gum Amoixicillin; tuna

Stupid Seattle is getting Slightly LESS Stressful [3-18-10]

11 Jan

My normally sagacious boss is  a human karaoke machine.  He got “Zombie” stuck in my head after we saw Zombie Fok today.  Anyway, Thursday is my favorite day at work.  All the perspicacious coolies are there, and none of the not-so-sage shit-heads.  It’s a nice change.  It’s unfortunately also the day I get off every other week and the 7th day in my 7 in a row stretch.  Too bad it isn’t Mondays I alternately get off–I HATE fucking Mondays.  I finally judiciously placed an IV catheter today after a week of totally sucking and blowing them (no pun intended).  It was too bad though cause after I got it in, the pungent dog started to “rodeo” and pulled it back out before it could be taped securely.  Next week, next week I’ll be more astute with my technical skills.

This job is the best I’ve ever had for discounts.  Joey got her first exam, a FVRCP, and rabies vaccines for just $5!!!!!!  It’s totally awesome.  My MO job paid well and gave me $3,000 bonuses twice a year, but they definitely charged me more than $5 and would NOT (wisely so) give any discount to significant others.  I guess it all evens out in the end.  Enough work though–I’M OFF FOR 3 DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tomorrow:  The big Indigo Girls concert!  They are one of my faves, and I haven’t seen them since 2006 when I went to the Saint Louis, Columbia, AND Kansas City concerts all in a row.  I’m excited to take Kidron.  Even though she’s all shrewd and pretentious about music and only favors electronic and Dave, I think she’ll really get on to the Girls.  I love them so she’ll understand and appreciate I’m sure.  I’m gettin’ some merch.

Because I got PAID from the girl who take my irritating empty room.  Not only do I NOT have to pay acrid rent, but she’s slowly paying me the $900 deposit.  It feels so good not to be weighted down by that caustic place anymore.  What a relief to cut ties with that ghetto, piquant situation.  It was really dealing a sharp and stinging blow to my psyche.

What else?  I’m an ITSJ and Kidron is an INFP.   think they poignantly hold true–for me at least. . .

Stay Away, Old Face [6-29-08]

9 Jan

You didn’t think I’d let THIS go did you?!  Read my diatribe, and feel appropriately embarrassed:

First of all, I want to say I stay out of the realm of my exes, even missing a fun-time or two in order to avoid an awkward situation.  I do not want a confrontation of public fulminations.  My exes don’t have the same respect, but their liberalness still surprises me when great audacity and permissiveness is shown and they DON’T maintain distance.  Some people have no boundaries!  THAT was always my biggest harangue with Douche.

Secondly, it’s one of my biggest pet-peeves when someone “loves” their animal so much, yet doesn’t act responsibly toward that pet.  Of course, I’m going to offer my invective on the matter, shit-head.  Not vaccinating an animal annually is lame—not updating shots for 3 years is neglect.  Putting an animal in a stressful situation aka Douche’s house, is asking for health trouble.  Mixing unvaccinated animals is retarded, by the way.  While we’re on the subject of pet care, feeding crappy food (yeah Nutro is just disguised crap) is going to hurt the pet’s health.  People who have pets SHOULD know, but Science Diet, Eukanuba, and Iams are the most nutritionally balanced foods on the market.  Also believing a pet store’s word over a veterinarian is dumb.  To continue common sense pet care advice, if you have a multi cat household, the rule is 1 litter box per cat + 1. This means if you have 3 cats, you need 4 litter boxes, 4 cats means 5 litter boxes, etc. . .  Oh, and you have to clean the litter box more than once a month.  The number 1 rule of owning an animal???  Don’t get a pet if you can’t afford to take care of it!

What a jeremiad, right?  But with good reason.  I bring it up, because Douche’s new GF (Old Face) strolls into MY work after not having been there for multiple years wanting a latitudinarian price plan.  I was so pissed they would have the audacity, and wish I had the nerve for a face-to-face tirade.  OK, you need some background on Old Face.  Believe it or not, I’m not just randomly mean to people.  Douche had a best friend for a year or two, for the sake of simplicity, we’ll call this friend “Manly.”  Manly and Douche were constantly seen together.  Also, Manly had been dating Old Face for a long time.  I’m not sure of the specifics, but possibly as long as 4 years.  Manly and Old Face had their problems.  I’m not sure how involved Douche was in these problems.  Probably heavily–pun intended.  Anyhow, Manly and Old Face break up and almost immediately afterward, Douche is dating Old Face.  This breaks one of the cardinal best friend rules—you don’t date your best friend’s ex—especially within such a short time span.  Sidenote:  Manly is out of the picture.  Douche no longer seen with Manly at all–just like that.  You knew of Douche’s non-existent morals, but this story illustrates that Old Face, also has questionable ethics.  Obloquy unnecessary–this sort of behavior is completely expected.  Her and Douche are perfect for each other. . .

Anyway, I was surprised they would come in such close proximity to me!  I also figured Old Face would go to the vet Douche does.  Not only does Douche go there, but my OTHER ex who happens to be friends with Old Face, works there. Got all that?  It’s a web of trashy that I would just assume not be involved in.  I’m not sure if Old Face actually does update vaccines at Douche’s vet and just wanted to take advantage of my clinic’s good prices, or if her pet, in fact, had not been vaccinated for years.  Either way coming to my work wasn’t a cool move.

At first, I felt awkward and wanted to avoid Old Face.  Then, I thought—no it is her who should feel awkward, this is MY place of work!  To drive home that point, I made sure to bring her animal to her when she came to pick it up.  I wanted to say a lot, but was very nervous and stressed so shakily said, “I didn’t expect to see YOU in here.”  I hope seeing me made Old Face feel awkward, but I couldn’t really tell.  What I wanted to do was lay out a long malediction about how just because she’s a cheap-ass does not give her the right to impede upon my territory.

My main point???  I don’t go to your bar or place of work–don’t come back to my clinic!!!

Frigid [posted 12-21-08]

1 Jan

Today was the coldest day I can remember since I moved to Missouri in 2003. Does anyone remember a day when it’s been more glacial?  It was an even lower temperature then 2 years ago when we had the big blizzard that made Mizzou cancel classes for the 5th time in history.  The only other time I remember such biting weather was when I lived in Montana.  And I don’t REALLY remember that all too well, as I was a small child, and probably spent most of my time bundled up and indoors.

When I was growing up, Nevada was fairly temperate.  Sure, it got brisk when it got dark, but the super-bitter days were ones I could see my breath.  Even THAT didn’t happen often.  Back then, my winter clothes were jeans and a hoodie, so that’s what I wore to walk dogs in Missouri.  BIG mistake.  I thought I might actually die from the wintery weather the first year I was in Columbia.  I had no hats, gloves, scarves, or winter jacket.  I endured without, figuring no matter what I wore I would feel frosty in this new climate.

The next winter, I was Missouri-prepared!  I got Sampson boots with a liner, warm boots for inside, scarves, hats, leather gloves, and a Dickies outfit, which is like Carharts (sp?), but with long sleeves, zippers in the legs to make boots accessible, and zippered pockets—very fancy.  Sometimes when I lead dogs in my winter clothes, I’m actually sweating!  Not as warm as Nevada, but pretty comfortable for Missouri.

The funny thing is, I thought living in Nevada last year would give me a pleasant break from raw winters in Missouri.  Wrong!  Things had changed since I left.  I attribute it to global warming, but Nevada’s winter was just as arctic last year as the winters I had endured in Missouri—not what I had remembered from the 16 years I lived there at all!  No fair!

Back to my story:  I knew it was going to be nippy this morning when I woke up to the space heater running.  I sleep between 2 electric blankets, so I’m nice and toasty all night, and didn’t notice the draftiness.  The space heater is set to a low threshold so my pipes don’t freeze, and it only comes on if the temperature drops below that.  It had dropped waaay below my threshold—it was only 3 degrees outside when I got ready for work!

When I went out to warm up my (stupid, stupid) car, my key wouldn’t work in the door (too icy) even when dipped in boiling water.  People, thank your lucky stars for the automatic locks you probably take for granted.  When I finally got in the passenger side of my car, it didn’t want to start.  When it finally turned over (after about 100 tries) it kept making funny rrrr, rerrr sounds.  When I was at work, I was wearing my winter duds, and STILL chilly.  It was supposed to reach 18 degrees, but when I went to work the second time, it felt even sharper than it had in the morning!  The wind was gusting, making it wretched outside.

Cold weather makes me feel like a pioneer for some reason.  Does anyone else feel that way?  I feel robust and resourceful when I have to prepare for, and deal with miserably bad weather.  I feel clever when I put a sheet over my windshield so I don’t have to scrape in the morning.  I feel scrappy when I am bundled up and shoveling snow or walking dogs on the ice.  I feel like an Indian when I am optimistic even in tough weather conditions.  That’s not to say I want it to stay cold. . .  I look forward to summer, and am stoked to live in the Caribbean where it will be warm ALL the time!

8K Run Makes Me Old

1 Jan

I’m turning 24 in a month (b-day party at Flatbranch!!!) and I’ve never felt old. On the contrary I’ve been accused of being young–12 to be exact-lol. Just kidding, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m always getting carded and Spanish Fly kept shouting out the 18-20 year old price range. I’m cool with it. Better to be young then act 40 when I’m in my 20s. Maybe I’ll live longer–or at least LOOK better when I’m actually older.

Anyway, today was the annual Jeff Shickles Memorial 8K run/walk (my yearly physical exertion). The weather was nicer than ever before. It was not hot and humid like it has been the past 3 years, it was warm with a nice breeze. I just wanna say that 8K is 5-ish miles and the course is crazy hills! The Nifong cliff will kill ya. Also, I really don’t do anything physical anymore. I don’t run, go to the gym, or anything. The extent of my exercise is walking dogs and I went swimming on Memorial Day–that’s it.

I want to mention how crazy it is that I do nothing. All through school I was super active. I was a competition clogger 8 or 9 years practicing for at LEAST 4 hours a week. I did volleyball for 3 years, was a cheerleader for 6 seasons, and did 8 years of track. I did 3 sports a year in high school, and I was in awesome shape. As a matter of fact I weighed 120 lbs my senior year of high school. I was always concerned I wouldn’t weigh under my pole. Sidenote: I was a pole vaulter and for safety reasons they label each pole with a certain weight and you have to weigh under that to jump with it. Back on track (no pun intended): Now I weigh 15-20 lbs (depending on the day) less that that–just because I lost so much muscle.

That said–the 8K gets harder each time I do it. I still finished in 60 minutes, which was my time the 2nd year I ran (the 1st year was terrible and last year I was actually in the 40-50 min. range) but it HURT. No pain in the limbs or anything, I’m just really out of shape. Maybe I’ll start running–or maybe I’ll just rent another movie 😉



Threesome at Forage & Vine [posted 5-27-07]

1 Jan

Picture this: I walk into Forage & Vine and a dude gives up his stool for me. He tells me how awesome I am. As I sit there the guy sits on the stool with me and starts to grope me. Later that same night, the guy gropes Sarah in the same bar. Brings ya back to the Trashy Snappers incident, doesn’t it?

Lemme backtrack a little. Instead of going to Soco, I went to my friend, Jacob’s 21st B-day. First of all, I dread going to Soco. Both of my (disgruntled) exes and all their friends hang out there. It is south of town really far from everything and there is a chance of checkpoints. Lastly, they charge cover and the drinks are light, yet expensive. Anyway, 21st birthday parties are a fun time, and trump Soco anytime!

Jacob was pretty much gone by the time Sarah and I got to Forage & Vine. I knew this even before seeing him. He called (it was 8 pm, by the way) and said they were at Harpos. Ten min. later he called and said they were going to Big 12. A short while later he called and said the bartender at Big 12 (later, I found out Big 12 is already closed for the summer) wouldn’t serve him so they were going to TK Brothers. I got a call a few min. later from the other Jacob, referred to from here on out as Jake to simplify things, saying the birthday boy didn’t know where they were–they were actually at Forage & Vine. So we walk in and Jacob is really happy to see Sarah and me. He had made a mark on his arm for each shot he had taken–yeah, he made it all the way to 21–27, if you count actual drinks. His arm looked like he had the tatoo of a little railroad track on it. A couple of the marks were all big and crazy. He was DONE.

As I mentioned earlier, Jacob was drunk and couldn’t even sit up, yet he managed to get handsy, in a “whoops I’m falling on the floor, I’ll grab something to catch my balance,” kind of way. I think he drunkenly got farther than Saki Guy! It’s definitely the most play I’ve had in longer than I care to mention. At the end of the night, Jacob also groped Sarah. Ha ha, what a couple of hussies, right? Getting groped in the middle of a bar–by the same dunk dude. It’s funny how guys can be completely obliterated and their hands still know where to strive for.

Jacob was very difficult to understand in his drunkenness. He kept saying ¾, ¾ I think it started out as me asking him if he had enough room on the stool. He repeated ¾ quite loudly for quite some time. Also, his head was lolling around (he had been drinking since noon and was trying to pass out) and it hit the bar several times with a loud thud. He didn’t seem to notice the first couple of times it happened, but the third time sounded especially harsh and I said, “Ouch, did that hurt?” When I called attention to it, Jacob was like a little kid. He kept giggling, “fix my face, fix my face!” The girls drinking next to us were concerned. They were sort of talking to him, and I heard him say, “I work at the USDA, I handle all the food you eat!” Oh, even trashed, he’s always quick witted and saucy.

Forage & Vine is definitely the place to be if you are belligerent, pass-out drunk, falling down, etc. . . Though Jacob was literally sleeping on the bar, sprawled out on the floor, walking with the support of friends, the bartender didn’t kick anyone out. As a matter of fact, Jacob fell to the floor and his friend said, “let’s go get some air.” They struggled to the door, knocking chairs and the bartender told them there was a backdoor near where they were standing. They ended up going up stairs–with the bartender watching.  We found out later the friend was also pretty drunk. Once out on the patio, Jacob was really out of it. He kept taking swings at his pals, and managed to send a bottle of beer flying all over everyone. He wasn’t doing it in a hateful way- he giggled the entire time.  He also spit on the girls next to him (I think he was getting ready to vomit). Eventually he pretty much passed out right there at the table. The solution his friends came up with? Pour drinks over him and hit him until he wakes up–nope wasn’t happening. The waitress was like–he doesn’t look good, he’s sweating a lot. Ummm, no that’s beer. Then she laughed and left. Didn’t kick us out, didn’t call the bouncers to carry him out, just went about her business with Jacob passed out at the table. He is going to wake up in the morning and wonder why he’s so sore! Once, Jacob stirred, and we thought he was going to be able to leave the bar by himself, instead of getting up, he repositioned himself on the floor! As the friends helped him down the stairs, his bare feet and ankles went thud, thud, thud all the way down. Another bruise for the morning.

After waiting on the bench in front of the bar for what seemed like a long time, sober Jake brought the car and Jacob was put in the passenger seat. His friend had to sit in the back seat, and instead of going around to the drivers side (like everyone was telling him to), decided to get in behind Jacob. He threw the seat forward spilling the precarious Jacob forward. There were arms and legs everywhere as they drove off.

I probably forgot some stuff. Jacob gave us a lot of material to laugh about. Between the giggling, incoherent mumbling, bruises, and passing out–we were definitely entertained. I think he had a really good birthday. He had to be at work at 11 am this morning–I bet if he made it at all, he is not doing well. . . The whole episode is kinda funny–since we know he’s made it home alright.