Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Sometimes I Say Nice Things About Other People

First, allow me to congratulate my sister Runtie for being offered—and accepting—her dream job earlier this week. She is in her final semester of nursing school and upon graduation she’ll be working on the pediatric oncology/hematology floor of a major hospital. I think I got the terminology right…hematology either means blood disorders or the study of lizards. Not only is she way cuter than I am, she is also a much better person. She will be treating children at every stage of their recovery from terminal illnesses. I stand onstage telling strangers about my ovaries and laugh when the elderly fall on icy sidewalks.

I know she’s going to be a stellar medical professional because the other night after the Chili Peppers show, I was absentmindedly singing “I got a bad disease/But from my brain is where I bleed”. She immediately diagnosed me with an intracranial hematoma then drilled a hole in my skull.

Another congrats is in order to MAV, one of my oldest friends and partial reason why I failed my freshman Italian final, for also scoring a new job this week. I can’t blame him entirely for my inability to learn a romance language. The largest share of that dubious distinction was earned by the waiters at La Carretta Mexican restaurant who watched as I gave myself fetal alcohol syndrome by ordering upwards of four Grande margaritas a night using nothing but my Cabbage Patch Kid’s birth certificate as identification. Sometimes I think this explains why I occasionally get phone calls from a heavily accented man asking to speak with a ‘Madeleine Paige’. And why my left ass cheek says Xavier Roberts.

Um. And, hooray, congratulations to me because I saved fifty cents on my purchase of a Kid Cuisine Carnival Corn Dog Microwaveable meal. I hope I made the right decision. It was a tough call between the corn dogs and the Grip and Dip Chicken Breast Strips although selecting the latter would’ve meant that for the first time in six months the words “grip” and “breast” were associated with my life.

While I’m happy for both of them, I’m also discernibly jealous that they’ll both have jobs that they love while I trudge into work every morning to find that my boss has already adorned my monitor with a collection of Post-It notes, each one a hand-written reminder of something stupid like “Buy donut holes for the meeting.” or “Stop stealing the batteries from the carbon monoxide detectors.” or “I heard you laugh when I fell in the parking lot.”

Ass.

1 comment:

August said...

Ugh,yea, congrats all around, ESPECIALLY to you since you save a rap star(Fiddy Cent)from microwaveable ruin.

Btw, not that you'd give a sh*t, but I now have a blog of my own, a music blog called MOG for those of us who are OCD music fans. Click on my name & check it out.