Tuesday, March 27, 2007

The calm before the storm

And there's a lull in the madness.

The play ran last weekend and went well. One more performance at the provincial drama festival and that's that puppy put to bed, good and proper. Two weeks from today I leave for a 10 hour drive across the island to the venue.

Singing two performances with the choir this weekend.

Got a first draft of a theatre program to the publicist early this morning. Only about 12 hours late...

What would have been a very busy period in my life got totally insane because I had a work colleague retire and she's not being replaced. The reassignment of duties has made life challenging indeed. Had I known this was going to happen, I would have passed on stage managing the show.

Still they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Wrath of Dawn. Attack badgers launched, small bets placed and pianos moved.

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Sunday, March 18, 2007

We are experiencing technical difficulties

We are experiencing technical difficulties. Mostly due to trying to fit 36 hours of activity into a 24-hour day. Do not adjust your set. Regular programming will resume shortly.

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Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Code Monkey

Then sing "Wrath Monkey" to same tune!

Wrath Monkey*

Wrath Monkey think that this song funny
She like it a lot
Wrath Monkey say you listen two times
She say you'll be caught

Wrath Monkey say YouTube is insidious
It put songs in head
Wrath Monkey can not help singing this
She'll sing till she's dead

Wrath Monkey say some day maybe reader get this song out of their mind
Wrath Monkey not able just now
Wrath Monkey say some day, somehow

Wrath Monkey still singing
Wrath Monkey have brain worm in her head
Wrath Monkey very simple girl
Big warm fuzzy secret heart
Wrath Monkey like you....
Wrath Monkey like you.... a lot!

*apologies to Jonathan Coulton

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Saturday, March 10, 2007

Canadian Customs and Excise

Tuesday, March 06, 2007


Friday, March 02, 2007

A vial experience

WARNING: This story contains references to both needles and blood. If you're squeamish about either, run away now. Cute puppies and fuzzy kittens. La la la la la.... you didn't see this.

I had the good fortune to be due for some routine bloodwork today. Not a big deal, usually. Starve yourself for 14 hours, go get stuck with a pointy thing and you're done.

Today's hospital visit was slightly more of an adventure. It started ordinarily enough. The receptionist at the blood collection clinic is a bitch. There is no other word for it. I've been there quite a few times and she's always there and always nasty. But only to patients. When she speaks to co-workers, the honey fair drips from her tongue.

But when dealing with a patient, a look comes over her face that screams, "I don't HAVE to deal with all you pathetic people. This is sooooo beneath me!" She doesn't make eye contact, just shoves her hand out for your requisition and hospital card. After you give her those, she snaps, "Are you fasting?" and when you reply in the affirmative, tippy taps at the computer, then glares at you. And doesn't speak until you ask, "Is that all you need?" to which she responds in a tone most of us reserve for total morons, "Y-e-e-e-e-e-s. (in that multi-syllabic version teenagers use) Go sit down until your name is called."

But that's SOP, and no more, or less than I expected.

I wasn't there long before my name was called by the phlebotomist , as I've learned over the years when is the least busy time and time my fast to that.

I followed her to the cubicle and when she turned around again, I realized she looked like she might be 17. 18 tops. Uh-oh. I'm sure you've all had blood drawn and you know the routine. I have to admit, usually the staff are a modicum of skill and efficiency, so I suppose I was well overdue to meet the one who... isn't. Now, she was very pleasant and friendly, the total opposite of the receptionist, and engaged me in light-hearted small talk about the possible snowstorm this weekend. But I would have preferred she didn't talk to me and instead consulted her textbook, from the course she obviously barely passed, opened to the page on how to draw blood without having the patient bleed out in the first two minutes.

First of all, she seemed to have some difficulty getting the tourniquet tied. And she tied it too tight. She did not mention making a fist, so as she came at me with the needle, I asked, "Shouldn't I make a fist before you put the needle in?" I did not, however, offer to deliver said fist anywhere to her person. I'm saving that for the receptionist. "Oh yeah. That'd help."

It was with great trepidation that I watched that needle go into my arm because I was really uncertain she knew what she was aiming for. But she managed to fill a vial without massacring my arm, and then of course forgot to tell me to relax my hand, so I did it when I knew I should.

She put a square of gauze over the spot where the needle had been and applied... almost no pressure. So I put my finger over it and pressed as hard as I know you need to. She then insisted on repeatedly lifting the thing up to look without giving it any time to clot. I was tempted to say, "If you keep doing that, my love, we'll be here all day and I'll be down a quart in no time." Which is distressing enough when it's your car, but positively terrifying when it's your arm.

But the good news is, I survived. And I've only got a very small bruise in the bend of my elbow to show for it. I usually have no bruise at all, but I'll live. And with any luck, by the next time I need blood work done, she'll either have punctured enough veins to know what she's doing or been fired.

The question is, are any of you passed out on the floor now? Someone? Get the nice people some smelling salts, please. Thanks.


That duck's at it again

Code Monkey - Get this tune out of your head, I defy you and while you're there, check out the Ukulele Remix LIVE and the Speed Monkey versions. From the delightful Jonathan Coulton.

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