Tag Archives: humor

TV

5 Feb

We’re going back.  Back to Christmas Eve 2014.

Our television broke. The picture slims down to a tiny horizontal line in the middle of the screen. It’s very unfortunate, because Cool has a TV. 6 hours away at her mom’s house. I also have a really fancy TV. A huge, flatscreen–my parent’s former TV. In storage. . . 14 hours away. And we are moving in less then 2 years.

As such, we didn’t want to go into debt at Christmastime to get a new one. But we need something. That’s my one relaxation. Over to Craigslist. FLAKESlist. Cool was in charge.

ornery face

She informes me she found a nice, functional one, for $30. But (there’s always a BUT on Craigslist) the people she was talking to actually had it at their parent’s house, and they had to see when it was convenant for their parents to set a pick up. Turns out that day was Christmas Eve. At 1 PM. Well, I had agreed to work until noon that day, which always turns into about 12:45-1PM.

And of course work did run late, which I expect. And is why I try not to plan things until at least 2 hours after expected closing time. If at all, because after work I’m tired. And usually grumpy–due to work.

And this is how Cool operates: When we were almost finished with work (12:35PM?) I picked up my phone expecteing to see a text from Cool making some sort of adjustment to the pick up plan–we were going to be late. But nothing. So I texted her–maybe she would meet me at my work, because that was closer to the loacation? Nope, come home, it’s fine.

I get home at 12:55PM. We are already going to be late. And Cool? No shoes on. AND she hasn’t lokked at the address, a map, or programed directions into the GPS/phone. This is normal Coollie-style. I’m freaking out, as my style is all anxiety/stress/lateness-phobia.

We drive around. We get lost. Finally, Cool calls the people. We are LATE. I’m unhappy and grumpy and tired and exasperated. Neither party is any good at conveying directions, so the Craigslist people agree to come to where we are, so we can follow them back home.

We get there–and the guys were really nice. But 5(!) men loaded this TV into the back of Cool’s HHR. And it barely fit. I’m thinking: 1) If people were there to load it, why did I have to be involved at all 2) It sucks that Cool neglected to remember cash so I had to pay 3) Where are we going to put that–and how will the 2 of us ever get it up the stairs?!

We pull up to the bottom of the stairs at home. Cool takes one side and I the other. We have less then half the manpower that got the TV into the car, and a verticle to overcome. Cool starts taking slow, tiny steps, and I’m telling her, “Go faster, it will be over faster if we hustle. Use momentum!” But any momentum we had was lost. We made it up 1-2 steps before Cool turned shaky and red in the face and started yelling in frustration. I was like, “Shhhh, shut UP the neighbors will hear [you can hear everything through the walls] and DON’T drop it!” She set her end on the step, leaving me with the bulk of the weight. And I heard metal crunching sounds.

So I told her to come below and help me push. We would have to roll the TV end-over-end up the remaining stairs. Magically, it worked. At the top, Cool went to park the car and I finished lugging the TV (probably double my weight) into the apartment, and across the room.

The first thing that I notice is that this new TV is just as big as our largest piece of furniture, the entertainment center.  We have Wal-Mart cheap furniture, just to get by before we move.  I have some nicer, more substancial pieces. . .  In storage.  I’m thinking–there is no way we can set heft this TV onto any furniture because the furniture will be crushed.  Cool says, “Maybe I should have measured,”

Welcome to my life.

 

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That Bites!

5 Aug

Right when I picked up the phone and heard so-and-so client’s voice I thought, “You are going to be a pain in my a$$ today.”  This particular client always comes with shenanigans:  Bringing a dog in to our feline-exclusive clinic, taking contagious cats out of the carrier to run loose through the lobby, not paying–it’s always something with this one.  But she said she had an “emergency,” so I told her to bring it in.

I don’t get too riled when a client says emergency–often that person’s idea of an emergency is very different from my idea of a critical patient.  Also, I don’t get too worked up when someone says their cat is fractious for the same reason.  I see the whole situation, then, if it is warranted I’ll go into emergency mode or get extra safety equipment, as the case may be.

I was cautious, but the kitty let me take all the vitals.  She at no point really fussed, or got super-excited.  She had been a sweet cat, but the pain of picking her up or touching her belly made her bite.  She let the doctor do the exam with some gentle restraint and only lifted her head to bite when the belly was pressed.  She was hardly intractable at any point.  X-rays were warranted so I had to pick her up off the counter.  I used a towel, and the initial picking up seemed to hurt her, but I thought we were in the clear until I had to set her down again.  I thought this was a reasonable assumption, because I had already picked her up to get a weight, and picked her up a second time to get her off of the scale, and she fussed initially, but let me do it without incident.  I took exactly one step out of the exam room, and somehow she found my left hand through the towel and clamped on to where the middle finger knuckle attaches to the top of my hand–one tooth on each side of the joint.

didn't capture the full extent edit

I wouldn’t have done anything different.  I think the bite was mostly bad luck.  I WAS wary, I was careful, I deal with much worse on a daily basis.  I can handle myself around a fractious or painful cat on most occasions.  She gave no vocalization, no indication (after I picked her up) she would attack.  Just bit and refused to let go for what felt like the longest time.

I try not to make a scene when I’m injured at work.  It’s disruptive and counter-productive, doesn’t instill trust in the clients, my co-workers, or my boss, and can get you hurt worse.  Startle an already biting cat and you just might get some more sharp-edges.  So I quietly set the cat on the back treatment counter and tried to pry her jaws off my left hand with my free hand.  Nope, wouldn’t budge.  I calmly called out the other tech’s name once–to no avail.  I thought maybe putting the cat in the sink would change her position just enough that she would let go of me and try to run away.  No luck, she was still clenched around the middle knuckle of my left hand.  The receptionist came back, and asked what I needed.

Remember the cat is under a towel, so the jaws of life was happening out of view.  I didn’t want the receptionist to make any sudden movements, so I slowly told her to come over quietly and do what needed to be done to make the cat release my hand.  I under no circumstance wanted to upset the cat more and sustain chops ALL over my hand and arm.  Cats can bite really fast when they want.  I didn’t know what she did until later, but I guess she just gently touched the cat, and it let go of me.  Then she put on the gloves and told me to wash my hand.  I opened a kennel for her to put the painful biter in.

bruised ankle

my worst bruise of all time

The funny thing was, I could tell the bite went pretty deep, and was in a joint which is the worst for later infection, but it didn’t look bad.  I mean, I never show the pain as I feel it.  I never bruise, never have a bad, bloody stump, my injuries are never looking as bad as they feel.  But this was an especially meager specimen in that regard.  It never even bled at all.  And it just

my most painful bite injury ever--not today's

my most painful bite injury ever–not today’s

looked like two small dots where the teeth went in–I have old scars on my hands and arms that look worse!  It also wasn’t all red and swollen–it looked fine, actually.  I scrubbed the hand with Betadine.  And while I rinsed it, I knew I was about to pass out.  Which is a funny feeling.  You notice it in your stomach first, then in your head.  And then my knees buckled so I was leaning heavily on the ledge of the counter.  I knew I was about to pass out and I should sit down first, yet my body didn’t really move in a quick fashion.  My boss came walking out of the exam room, and said something like, “Are you about to pass out?”  To which I (cheerily I thought, considering the situation) responded, “Indeed I am, you called that one.”  Or some such nerdy phrase.

even after 20 failed IV attempts--very little to show for it

even after 20 failed IV attempts–very little to show for it

I never went to pieces though.  I didn’t scream, cry, or yell.  And I don’t think I acted dramatically.  But I knew this would likely be infected so I needed to get antibiotics.  I’m usually anti-medical, just because it costs money, takes time away from work, and usually I don’t get sick or hurt in ways I can’t just deal with on my own.  But I knew I’d get the red line (indicating infection) if I didn’t.  I had already planned to use my school loan money to pay for the visit, and was pleasantly astounded when my boss mentioned workers comp.  Sometimes small, private business discourage making a claim and either make you pay if you go to the doctor, or will pay you back later.  I called Cool, because careful to tell her not to be alarmed.  She tends to panic if I say I’m ill/injured because it generally takes a LOT to put me out of commission.  She was nice enough to pick me up–though it took a long time because of construction (so she said), because I didn’t wanna pass out behind the wheel and total Rusty.  No need to make a bad situation worse.  So I went (on work time) to urgent care, picked up my prescriptions, and ate a sandwich since I knew I wouldn’t get an additional lunch break and we would probably be really behind when I got back to work.  

We were this-close to my work, and I was anxious to get back and try to help catch up, when my glasses slid down my nose.  These are my old pair that I use for work, because I know they will get all junked up with ear cleanings, abscess goo, etc, etc. . .  I went to use my left shoulder to push them up–since my hand was out of commission–and the lens fell out.  This happens from time time time, and I took off the frames in order to pop the lens back in. It had not fallen out at all, the frame had broken in 2, un-salvageable pieces!  So just as we got to my work, I had no vision.  We had to drive all the past, work to our apartment, so I could get my other frames.  Then, I saw for myself just how slow the construction was–it was on every route we could have taken.  And tedious.  It took what felt like forever to get back to work.  It was the kind of thing that was true, but I felt others would think was a lie–so I felt weird.  But it’s totally true!

cats meow bite and glasses

And as soon as I did get back to work–they said, “We just called your co-worker to come work for you.”  So I didn’t actually have to go back at all.  Which they had actually told me before I left.  But I wanted the money, didn’t want to mess up everyone’s schedule, and didn’t leave because the hand HURT.  I have had much worse bites, a lot more in number, some combined with scratches, ones the got very swollen and red and ugly, and the pain is usually a 5 on the pain scale, with the last bad bite in Seattle climbing at a brief 11 when I touched ice to it.  So this was pretty mild, pain-wise.  I just needed the antibiotics (and anti-nausea drugs).  So I planned to finish the day.

I didn’t TAKE the antibiotics, because they make my belly ill.  And my anti-nausea drugs are supposed to make me sleepy.  I didn’t want to go back to work only to barf all afternoon.  But the vet said I either take the afternoon off, or take a dog-sized Amoxi we have. I told her if it made me barf I was going home and we agreed. So I took an amoxi–which turned out to be easy on my belly. Would have saved a lot of trouble if she had given me that option for the Rx instead of sending me to the doctor.  But I guess that’s bad, bad, bad and not legit–even though I find it helpful.

And that’s all I want to type, when my hand probably will stiffen up to the point that precludes typing at all.  I’m off to other internet places.  With me a useful hand and calm belly!

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Low-Down

12 Jul

Well I’m finished with the bulk of hell week, as I have been calling it, at work.  Mostly, I’m tired.  Too tired for annoyance evil Barbieeven–and for me, that’s really saying something!  I was also relieved that I didn’t get screamed at or reprimanded today, and I didn’t walk off the job.  Though I’m certain the week before our receptionist’s vacation, when I’m needed to work extra may have had something to do with that–just my cynical side coming out.  Anyway, so a good end to a tedious week.

Today, something happened though, that will go down in the books.

Let me start by saying I wasn’t fully present.  Since it was hell week, I was armed with energy drinks. sour candies, jelly beans, etc. . .  And I AM hypoglycemic, but it usually doesn’t bother me too much anymore.  I just know if I eat sweets in the morning before I’ve eaten something more substantial I’m going to have a problem.  This is why donuts do not even appeal to me any more.  I had an energy drink this morning–which isn’t too unusual.  Then, some fried food for lunch, tacos or some such thing (all microwavable Mexican is the same) along with just the start of a 2nd energy drink.  I was super-tired and still had a crazy Friday afternoon to get through.  Anyway, I ate a bag of jellybeans throughout the morning and lunch as well.

Kidron's Camera 042

After lunch people were asking me various questions, and I was getting side-tracked easily.  Not too surprising since my low points are always in the afternoon, and I was especially tired today.  But when I was taking vitals/history, my head felt weird.  Not really a headache, but sort of a preliminary dizzy feeling, that made me notice a difference.  But I continued on with my job, gathering info.  I got sweaty, then a sudden starry/woozy feeling passed over me, making me grab the counter for stability.  I was about to pass out and make a scene.  I didn’t want to make a big deal though (especially since I knew it was low blood sugar caused by my own stupidity) so I just finished rooming the cat while holding the counter.  I’m tough like that.

I quickly (if not incompletely) summarized the cat’s history to the vet, said I needed to have peanut butter before I passed out, and ran upstairs to do so.  Luckily, I keep a protein on hand just for that very reason, and greedily spooned some in my mouth with trembling hands.  I didn’t feel normal immediately, but went in the exam room to help restrain, figuring all I had to do was stand against the counter.

The vet was saying the cat had a possibility of ring worm, and asked the owner if she had any ring worm lesions.  The lady said she did have a spot on her leg, but didn’t know if it could be the fungus.  So my vet agreed to look at the leg so we could better diagnose the cat.  The owner said, “Oh my skinny legs” which I took to be a disclaimer of her calves she was about to show off.  What the client was actually referring to was her tight-fitting pant legs.  She proceeded to quickly un-do the button of her jeans and pull her pants down from the waist.

Bom bomNormally, I would have been appalled, astounded, embarrassed, entertained.  As it was, I was still trying not to pass out and all I could muster was to avert my gaze so my psyche did not have to be scarred by some client’s undercarriage.  The vet, must also have been taken by surprise, but she professionally looked at the leg without reacting at all to the disrobing.

It wasn’t until about an hour later that I even remembered to mention the episode to my co-workers or tease my boss about the situation.  I will definitely always remember the day a client took her pants off while I was in the room though 🙂  There is never a dull moment in veterinary medicine.

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Costco: Conquered.

8 Jan

I found the key to shopping Costco.

There is never a slow time.  There are no hand-baskets.  Every item in the warehouse is huge and bulky.  Buying in large quantities can save loads of cash, but shopping Costco can be an exercise in frustration.

What to do:

0.5.  Make a list.

Also, make sure your list is in sections–all refrigerated items, then all dry food, then beauty products, then medicine, for example.  Even better if you know your Costco’s layout so you can make the items on your list correspond to the order of their sections.

1.  Go in a pair.

Drag your spouse along.  Bribe a friend.  Make your (older) kids help.

2.  Sit

Your partner in crime in the furniture section.  With the huge shopping cart.

3.  Find.

Now, you take your list and hustle to the section containing the heaviest items.  Cat litter, trash bags, soda should have been my first stops.

4.  Haul.

Grab each item in turn, and walk it back to your shopping partner and cart.  It’s physically laborious  but the shopping goes a TON faster without having to navigate those awkward and heavy carts around other people, the snack carts, and big store merch.

5.  Pack.

While you walk to the next heaviest item in the section, your shopping-mate packs the cart according to price.  Cool and I try to split the grocery costs in half.

6.  Hurry!

Hustle, carry, and drop off all the items until all but 2 items on the list are exhausted.  I got $275 of items to satisfy all needs of 2 people for Spring semester in 20 minutes.  Twenty-minutes, people.  Be impressed.

7.  Sweat.

When all is said and done, drop to the sofa and recuperate while your partner in crime gets out of the couches to get one surprise item not on the list–in our case yummy cinnamon rolls from the bakery.

8.  Line-up.

One of you grab a place in the check-out line.  The other retrieves the last 2 items on the list–hopefully medicine or something near the front of the store.

9.  Stress-free!

You’ve done it!  No waiting for stupid people to get out of the middle of the aisle.  No heaving a heavy unruly cart against giant sized breakable displays.  No waiting or frustration.  And bonus–a great workout for the carrier.

10.  Carry.

Now you just have to get the massive groceries from car to house!  I suggest doing this in shifts–leave stuff in the car that doesn’t have to go right away.

11.  12.  13.  14.  15.  Winning!  To the power of 4.

Schnarf

28 Dec

pseudo mossI had probably my most embarrassing moment in an exam room EVER today.  I bring it up on here, because two people already know about it.  And I know they’re talking about it–so I might as well find a way to laugh about it too.  Except, my face still reddens every time I even think of it.

I was taking vitals on a kitty owned by a lesbian couple.  Not that it’s a factor in the story–I just notice these things you see.  We account for less then 10% of the population–females probably even less then that, and rural-ish conservative areas even less, so it’s something exciting when I see not one but two lesbians.

I was asking the history, asking questions about the cat.  Anyway, I’m not sure what occurred at all.  But suddenly something icky flew out of my nose.  I had not seen that coming, and hadn’t expected it.  Not only did it fly out of my nose, but it landed on the cat.  And I could SEE it.  I was horrified, not wanting to call any more attention to the scene by acknowledging it, but obviously, if I could see it so could they.  I didn’t know what to do.

There are some people like mothers or ultra-friendly clients that would break the tension by saying, “Oh you should SEE what comes out of my kids!”  or, “Hey!  That’s exactly what the cat has been doing!”  Not these two.  They just got quiet and stood there kind of sternly.  Watching what I would do next.  So by instinct, I just reached out with a bare hand and plucked it off the cat’s fur, which I’m sure they watched me do.  It was like, “Nobody saw this and that didn’t happen.”  But it HAD happened.  I tried to compose myself and hide it in my fist while I finished up taking the heart rate.  And I’m certain they knew why I was only using one hand and had a closed fist.  The cat was a little wiggly while I was trying to osculate and I opened my other hand, but the grossness was still in it.  So I just had to deal one-handed.  It was terrible!

And for so long–the substance was still in my hand.  And when I needed my hand to type, I couldn’tpseudo-seaweed wipe it anywhere, because the gals would totally know.  And I didn’t want to wash the hand and call more attention to the episode.  So I just didn’t type the vitals in the computer at all, instead making a hasty retreat.

Then, the doctor (of course) needed me to go back in the room to restrain the cat while she stained its eye.  So I had to face the lezbos again.  I.  Was.  Mortified.

Elements of the Homo Alphabet

12 Jan

I’m not metalloid a.k.a. transition metal for sure, BUT because I’m awesome and all-inclusive I have gifted the rest of the LGBTQQA with their more descriptive elemental stars too.  We all know the Gold-Star is limiting and self-congratulatory and a little narrow-minded, dare I say it.  For the rest of the gals in the all-inclusive homo alphabet.  Here are the star-awards:

Boron is a staple of laundry, but when combined with Nitrogen it forms a really hard diamond.  This reminds me of the questioning.  They can go either way–a stable (boring?) life of marriage to a man and 2.5 children, or an excitingly different alternative lifestyle filled with just as much happiness.  A Boron-Star for you, deciders!

Bisexuals can go either way, so I chose an element that can too.  Antimoney (Sb) is usually bolstered with the surrounding elements on the periodic table.  For example, Lead is used in bullets, but it’s too soft without the addition of Sb.  So bisexuals, however rare you are, you get the Antimoney-Star status!

Silicon is well suited for the transsexuals–since logistically they made need to incorporate this element into their new bodies.  So I give them the Silicon Star.  Too obvious?  I still found it fitting.

I give the heteroflexible, my personal favorite group of alphabet soup, the Germainium-Star.  Heteroflexible people are open-minded and non-judgemental.  They look at matters of the heart in terms of love, not gender.  And Germainium is known as being stable and common. We can only hope the heteroflexible will become more and more common too.

As little as ten one-billionths of a gram of Polonium can be fatal.  And as every 100% lesbian knows, so can even a small dose of the bicurious girls who “try it out” [lesbianism] or “experiment.” We should know they will just go back to men (just as we lesbians ran away from regrettable male hookups) breaking our hearts in the process.  And time and again lezbos are just too tempted.  Thus, the Polonium-Star bestowed upon the bi-curious.

The Tellurium-Star is being presented to the LUGs (lesbian until graduation).  This is not to be confused with questioning, bi-curious, or hasbian.  The LUGs fully embrace a lesbian title during school.  They carry their rainbow flag with pride at University, march beside us at pride, and are some of the most outspoken lesbians around.  Then, they meet their Prince (as opposed to Princess) Charming.  Obviously going from one end of the spectrum to the other is not all that common.  And neither is Tellurium the 8-9th least abundant element in Earth’s crust.  The element also has hugely contrasting characteristics.  It has a crystalline appearance, but contact with it can cause you to smell a garlic-like odor for weeks.  Take this as you will 😉

Arsnic.  One of the most known poisons.  I was going to avoid backlash, and refrain from assigning any group this one.  BUT it’s my blog and I had one element and one group left.  I give the dreaded hasbian the Arsnic-Star.  Once you’re a lesbian of any sort, how can you chose to degrade the LGBT community by denying membership in it entirely?  The hasbians treat their girl-loving days as a dirty little secret and anomaly.  They mindfully do not accept bisexual or heterofelxible as their descriptions, so I think it’s OK if us girl-loving-girls are weary toward them, just like the infamous poison Arsnic.

So much for ending on a happy note 😉

If I’m Not a Gold-Star, What Metal Does It Make Me?

10 Jan

The Gold-Star lesbian is a current and former lesbian who has never had any (sexual) relations with men.  She is said to be the purist and truest form of lesbian.  And rare.  But, what star do currently 100%-girl-loving-girls get if they (however brief or regrettably) had experiences with the opposite of sex?

I didn’t try to quantify any male experience.  More then numbers of encounters or degree of severity (dating to hand holding to kissing to oral to intercourse), proof of lesbianism is more about the FEELINGS involved when messing about with guys.  And I didn’t include Silver or Bronze because they imply a lessor status to Gold.  And non-Gold-Stars are NOT less in any way!  So here are loose (no pun intended) categories of ex-Gold-Star gals–just add star to your metal:

Thallium will kill you.  Just as you would kill anyone who told about that ONE time when you were pressured, or drunk, or on the rebound, or just seeing what it was like.  Yet Thallium is fatal without symptoms and cannot be detected in the body.  Just as your man-secret will never be detected.  And just like you would DIE before doing it again.

Bismuth spontaneously forms rainbow (yes rainbow!) crystals upon cooling.  Also it is the last of the stable elements on the periodic table–all the ones after it are volatile and highly regulated by government.  So you had limited, low severity, boy-ness for whatever reason–you know you’re a true lezbo now.  And you won’t change your mind.  Ever.

Who doesn’t love a metal named for an indigo emission spectrum?  Even if you had a few indiscretions, OR for a period tried dudes out, your heart bleeds lez-lavender.  Indium is also a super-gay metal underneath all its softness (you can change it’s physical characteristics using just hands).  I hope I didn’t bring any phallic images to mind with that tiny detail. . .

So you’re no Gold-Star.  Or Silver.  The important thing is you know what team you’re playing for now.  Aluminum is light and strong, and doesn’t rust.  It’s very versatile.  AND it was at first considered a noble metal just like gold and silver, bestowed upon royalty and such.  In a powdered form, this metal is VERY reactive and used as jet fuel.  So embrace your history as a penis-lover, it just makes you that much more of an interesting lesbian!

Tin stays shiny forever.  So even if those gold-stars say your stud-studded past tarnishes your star–you know the truth. . .

Paper, Rock, Scissors

6 Jan

I KNOW beyond the shadow of a doubt why paper beats rock!

It’s understandable how scissors could beat paper by cutting it.  Or how rock could crush scissors.  But I always wondered how a piece of paper could conquer a boulder.  And the standard answer–by covering it. . .  What?  Why does wrapping paper around a rock beat it????

 

But then I had an epiphany–paper beating rock is not a physical win.  It’s on an intellectual level.  Paper, as in the written word, or books is superior to cave paintings or rock!  Paper is progress, education, and using the brain to beat the antiquated stylings of brawny rock.

 

 

It makes perfect sense to me!

Pig Latin [posted 2-4-08]

17 Jan

At Noah’s Ark, all the animals I work with have names.  Not the case in the swine chambers at the University.  I decided to rectify that situation.  Here’s a list of pig names I’ve conjured up:

Straw, Stick, and Brick

(from the building materials of the 3 little pigs)

Porky, Spider, and Treat-Heart

(last name:  Pig)

Pinky, Napoleon, Snowball, and Fluffy

(for those that read, bonus points if you can name the books)

Razorback, Spanky, and Wiggly

(the lessor-known cartoon pigs)

Suey

(as in sooo-ey, to call the pigs in)

Bank and Miss

(Piggy, of course)

Grumpig

(I had to include at least ONE of the Pokemon pig-things)

Oscar, Meyer, Pork-rind, pork-chop, and bake-o

(cause lets face it, that’s what they’re going to become)

Wilber, Piglet, Babe, and Gordy

(my least favorites, as they are clichéd at this point)

That’s 26.  Can we brainstorm more???

Mean Spirited? Maybe. [posted 1-22-08; edited 1-14-10]

17 Jan

It’s all in fun!  Here’s a list of nicknames I’ve conjured up:

Hannah, Can’t Hit the Pit (a reference to pole vaulting)

My Asian Roommate

Crazy Mary

Douche

Douche-bag Dana (I went through a douche-phase, ok?)

Saucy Sarah

Crack-Head Henry

Alke Upstairs

Dirty Sanchez

Myspace Alicia

Trash-E-Trash

Bossy Jocie

Eye-candy Monday

Lame-ass

“nice” Justin

Fake Bitch

“Sam”

Suz, but only in my head.

The Hairdresser

My Boss (Mad-Dog Mary)
The M’s
Elephant-Stomper
Burnsy
The Ghetto Brothers

There are certainly more–maybe I’ll include them later!