1. I love ice cream and Doritos. I love them so much that I had a bowl of ice cream and half a bag of Doritos last night for supper. It’s hard to look myself in the face this morning. When I was in Burlington, I had this rule that I could either have one bag of Doritos or one tub of ice cream per week…not both at the same time. It was working out pretty well. Then I get here and all I want is ice cream and Doritos. I have this weird thing though…in the winter I have no appetite. In the summer, I have a huge appetite, and just want to eat at a constant. Definitely doesn’t make me feel all that great to be falling out of my thirty layers in the winter and busting out of my swimsuit in the summer. I wish I could blame it on PMS, but that would be a lie.
2. The other night Simon and I went out to eat at a seafood restaurant with our friend Ellen. We got a crab cake, calamari, and crab dip…and girly frozen drinks, of course. I don’t know why, but the dipping sauce for the calamari tasted like dandelion. Ellen and Simon think that I’m deranged, but it’s true. I explained that when I was little I used to snap dandelion stems in half and lick the white stuff that came out of them. Don’t ask me why, I was a kid…it was something that I did. It was gross; I don’t know why I did it. I guess I thought if I tried enough of them, the white stuff would eventually taste like milk, which I loved. It never did. I asked Simon and Ellen if they had ever tasted dandelion milk, and again, I got stares that made me feel as though I got caught masturbating in public. What’s so weird about that? Am I the only person that’s ever done that? To be clear, I’m talking about eating dandelions, not masturbating in public. And, had I not eaten dandelions, I never would have been able to identify the strange tasting mayo. I don’t know what was in it…all I know is that it was gross, and that it tasted like dandelion.
3. So here we are at our apartment. The maintenance people have pretty much rid the apartment of the awful stink that plagued our place. We also found out that keeping the air conditioning set to at least 70 degrees with the fan running continuously also helps. I think part of the problem is the humidity…I think Florida just kinda stinks in general because it’s so damp and humid here all the time. So for those of you coming to visit, you can rest easy knowing that we’ve got the stench pretty much under control. Unfortunately, we have no control over the neighbor in the adjoining building who finds it necessary to sit around in his underpants in front of the screen door. On a kitchen chair, no less. It would at least be a little bit more understandable if he was on the couch or something, but no, there he is, mostly naked on his kitchen chair. He is not cute, nor is he in good shape. We honestly have no idea how he could possibly think that we can’t see him in there…or perhaps he doesn’t care. And it’s not like we try to look, but when you’re walking by a ground level apartment and the windows are open and the lights are on, you just kinda look. Trust me, that’s a not a sight we seek out. You visitors are in for a treat…it’s a nightly showing, usually around sunset or later.
4. I was quite disappointed recently when I learned that pugs did not make the top 10 list of dogs for 2009. Of course all the old stand-bys were there…the labs, the goldens, the german shepherds, the yorkies, etc. Bringing up the rear was the shitzu. Honestly, the pugs got beat by a shitzu? I’m calling shenanigans on that little list. I could think of a million reasons that pugs are better than shitzus. No, I will not list them all here, but I will divulge a few reasons why I think pugs are great. A) you can cover them up with a blanket and they go right to sleep…kinda like a bird. I do this all the time when they are being annoying. B) you can place them in strange and often demeaning positions on the couch, and they’ll stay like that so you can take pictures of them, post them on Facebook, and caption them with phrases like, “look at my retarded, lazy dog.” C) unlike some breeds, pugs are so stupid that you will never feel dumber than your dog. D) they can hold their bladders for like 12 hours or more at a time. One time Brie didn’t go to the bathroom for 16 hours because she was too lazy to get out of bed to go outside. E) they are the best snugglers. Even when you don’t want to snuggle, they force themselves upon you and make themselves comfortable…usually right about the time you have to go to the bathroom, they park themselves directly on top of your bladder. F) you could never in your wildest dreams smell worse than a pug. I could go on, I really could. Basically, I think pugs are the best because they make a person feel good about themselves. Life could always be worse…you could have been born a pug.
5. Now that we’re in Florida, we have access to the Bob and Tom show 7 days a week. It’s awesome. We listen to it on the way home from work…it detracts from the horrible traffic. I have learned a lot of things in the few short weeks we’ve been here. I learned that red-headed people are called Rangas in Australia because their hair is similar in color to the orangutan. Apparently a zoo in Australia was in trouble because they were promoting their new orangutan exhibit by offering free admission to all Rangas. The redheads apparently were upset by this. I’m not sure if it was the exploitation of being a redhead or if it was because they were being compared to giant, ugly, orange apes. Another thing I learned was the term “curiosity delay,” which usually accompanies a traffic delay. It’s basically the term for a traffic delay caused by an accident, only it usually occurs in traffic going the opposite direction from the accident. I’ve always wanted to have a term for that besides rubber-necking…thanks to Bob and Tom, now I do. I also learned that PETA was suggesting that the groundhog for Groundhog’s Day be replaced with a robot, because it’s inhumane to force the little rodent to come out of a hole in front of a crowd. Honestly…a robot. Do these people really have nothing better to do?
6. Simon and I recently had the pleasure of visiting a tourist trap here in Florida that still has me feeling not right. The place is called The Shell Factory. Our first clue to there being something amiss is that this place is in the middle of nowhere and not near the beach at all. But, it was a cloudy day and we had nothing better to do, so we gave it the old college try. We pulled into the parking lot, which was mostly deserted, and had ourselves a little look around. We kind of got a weird feeling about the place…like it was a place where tourists disappeared. We weren’t even sure if it was actually open, since there was not another human being in sight. We started to wonder if the cars in the parking lot belonged to tourists that would never make home…at least not in one piece and without dental record identification (apparently we’ve been watching way too much CSI). So we ambled across the decrepit boardwalk that separated the duck pond from the bumper boats. Both looked sketchy and were littered with all forms of bird poop. Oh wait, the duck pond was actually the fish pond, but we only saw one fish. Perhaps all the fish had died from poop ingestion. That’s my guess. So we’re wandering around, and we made our way to the nature park, which was $10 a person and you had to walk through this tin shed of sorts to even get to the park. It was dark and scary and eerily quiet. We decided that it wasn’t worth disappearing forever and went to the shell factory, as it were, instead. On the way there I made the comment to Simon, “no one knows we’re here right now…we could disappear and no one would know where to start looking.” The shell factory…filled with stuffed African animals…complete with rhino and cape buffalo, a winter scene with grizzly bears, a Christmas room, cheesy Florida souvenirs that were most likely made from shells manufactured in China, shark babies in some sort of preservative liquid, coked-out employees, a creepy pirate room, a deserted, dark arcade that no parent should ever let their kids play in. I seriously could go on, this place was huge. We took pictures. I could feel a look of incredulity and disgust on my face the entire time we were there. The oldies music pumping through the distorted speakers did nothing to lighten the mood. In fact, the music probably just made it worse. It was like being written into a Stephen King book. It was hours after leaving the place before I finally shook the creepy feeling and felt okay with the world again.
7. I don't know why, but I've been craving a hot dog lately. A hot dog is not something I normally seek out, especially given Simon’s disdain for all tubed meats, but I’ve been wanting one, nonetheless. I finally got my hot dog fix a week ago at an Italian restaurant called Taste of New York. It was a giant Nathan's hot dog, which was delicious. The side of hand-cut French fries was also quite good. So now that that's done with, I can finally move on to eating something I can take a little more seriously. Honestly though, I was a little ashamed of myself. Who goes to an Italian restaurant and orders a hotdog? Wait a minute, let me back up...what kind of Italian restaurant has hot dogs on the freaking menu?? Hahaha! To be fair, the hot dog hit the spot, and no matter how strange it is for an Italian place to have hot dogs on the menu, I was thankful for it. :)
8. On one of the only nights in our entire assignment when Simon was working and I wasn’t, I was scared to be home alone. Even the protection (?) of the dogs didn’t do it for me this time. As I heard all manner of noises outside and from the neighboring apartments, I couldn’t help but think about how my trusty t-ball bat was outside in the Jeep, and of no use to me should someone try to break in. Not that I have any reason to think that someone might break in, but you just never know.
9. Mom will appreciate this one…the other day I was outside doing who knows what, and the sliding door was open. The pugs came out onto the screened porch to see what I was doing, so I started to taunt them and make them bark. Lady wanted in on that action and came running out of the apartment onto the porch, and promptly tried to jump through the screen. Unfortunately for her, the screen was stronger than she was, and she bounced off and fell onto the ground. I’ll have to figure out what kind of screen it is since Lady has destroyed two screen doors at my parents’ house by running right through them. We used to have a retarded dog named Lassie that I would purposely try to make run into the screen door. She was the dumbest dog known to man, and I got her every time.
9. This week has been a work-out streak for me. I ran on the treadmill on Tuesday, went for a nice, long bike ride on Wednesday, and then went for another bike ride through a nature preserve on Sanibel on Thursday. Oh, and we took a nice walk on the beach on Thursday too. I’ll have to say, I’m pretty proud of myself. This is the first time I’ve actively worked out since that one time in Burlington. And yes, I worked out exactly one time in Burlington. Or did I? You know what…I don’t think I ever worked out in Burlington…I think I just thought about it, and then when I thought about the fact that the work-out facility was in the laundry room, I found that to be too much of a turn-off and hung out on the couch instead. My bad. I told Simon not to get used to the idea of me being this active, because it probably won’t happen all that often. Although being here in the warm weather is much more inspiring to getting out and being active than a foot of snow and below-zero temperatures ever will be. That and I’ve got to do something to balance out the mass quantities of ice cream and Doritos that I can’t seem to keep out of my mouth.
10. I think my drinking tolerance is at an all-time low. And it’s not that I drink a little and get smashed, it’s that I drink a little and get a massive headache. My mom’s tolerance has now become my own, I’m afraid. Aside from a couple frozen daiquiris the other night with our seafood, I haven’t really had much for alcohol since the first weekend we were here, and that left me with a headache that almost warranted a trip to the ER. Not that I’m a booze hound or anything, but I enjoy my drinks here and there. Lately the only time I don’t get ill from drinking is if I have one drink with a meal. I’ve lost my appetite for beer. Me! Not wanting beer! What in the world is the matter with me? A couple weeks ago, I cheated my way through a game of UNO so that I wouldn’t have to take a shot of Rumplemintz with the rest of the game losers. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you start cheating at UNO just to avoid taking a drink. Rumplemintz though? Damn…I think I know of a few people that would cheat right along with me to avoid that stuff. Having my mom’s tolerance might not be so bad though. She has her margaritas at the Mexican restaurants, her half a beer at the family gatherings…she does all right. I once watched her sip an entire lemon drop shot through the course of a meal in Denver…I swear she was drunk by dessert. The altitude may have played a role, but I’m not 100% sure on that one. I’ll definitely save a lot of money drinking like Mom.
11. I come from a long line of individuals that have this thing about feeding birds. I don’t know why or when it started, but it’s been something that I’ve enjoyed for more years than I can remember. When I was little, mom would always save all the stale pieces of bread in a paper bag so we could go to Rochester to feed the geese. When we were babysat by my grandma and grandpa Long, we always made our way to Silver Lake for a little bird feeding. Those are some of my favorite childhood memories…feeding birds…and trying not to step in their poop in the process, of course. There was always a thorough shoe check before getting back in the car at the end of a feeding. A little over a year ago, my family and I almost fed an entire bowl of pasta salad to a group of sea gulls when we were having dinner in La Crosse. Simon was absolutely beside himself and physically took the bowl of pasta away from us before we could “waste” any more of it. So engrossed were we in our feeding of birds that it was almost like we were on drugs. So now that we live next to a lake of sorts (it’s actually a pond), there are all kinds of birds around for me to feed. I went to the grocery store the other day and bought the cheapest bag of cat food I could find so I could feed it to the birds. I now know better than to waste good food on birds when Simon is around. It’s so exciting. I honestly could probably feed the entire 3.5 pound bag to my feathery little buddies all at one time. Doing so would probably result in some bird and turtle deaths, but at the time…what fun it would be! So far I have been successful in limiting myself to one cup of cat food per day.
12. As in all cities that we move to, I always have to make sure I know where the nearest mall is, in case I find the need to buy something that I might not already have. Or…perhaps buy more of what I already have in the off-chance that the store quits making it. We went to the regular mall here and I was less than impressed with the majority of the clientele...it was so freaking loud and there were children tearing about everywhere. Where were their parents? I was also not impressed with the women spilling out of what little clothing they managed to force themselves into. That and I had to sit behind some lazy-ass in the parking lot that had to hold up traffic so she could get that front-row parking space. After honking at her THREE times she still didn’t budge. What a lazy putz. Not that that doesn’t happen everywhere, but I’ve never waited that long for someone waiting for a parking space. That’s just rude. That and when all of her children started filing out of the car, they were all chubby. Perhaps parking near the back of the lot may have gotten them 15 minutes of exercise…heaven forbid! Okay, I’m done with that. So…the mall. It isn't a long hallway or a loop like most malls...I would have to say that it's more serpentine in its design...you wind all over the place, feeling like you're going to get either lost or mugged around every corner. Whoever designed it should be shot...or at least lose the privilege of designing malls...or any other dwelling that humans might inhabit. Maybe they could make a living designing those tubes that border collies run through on those agility courses. And there are no short-cut tunnels or hallways…you have to wander the entire, curvy thing to get from one store to the next. That and there were more than a few stores there marketing clothing that would only fit women with obscenely large breast implants…and considerable junk in their trunk to boot. I had never seen a mannequin with boobs bigger than her head until now. And giant nipples too…poking right through the fabric. Really? Is that really necessary? I’ll admit, I stopped and stared.
13. And now the job…ugh, the job. Definitely not what we thought it was going to be. During this time of the year, the population of Fort Myers basically doubles, meaning that the patient population in the hospital usually does the same. Simon and I are stationed on a unit that’s only open during the high-occupancy months of the year. Since it’s not a functioning unit all the time, it’s basically neglected during the months that it’s closed, and they don’t do a whole lot to get it up to speed when they open it. We run out of supplies constantly, and it’s a pain in the butt to go to other units to get supplies. The nurse manager for our unit basically spends all her energy and resources on her main unit, and offers us nothing in the way of support. Our unit is completely staffed by travelers, and we don’t have a charge nurse at night. In most situations, not having a boss around might sound like something dreams are made of, but in this situation, it’s a nightmare. We have no one to turn to when the going gets rough, which is often since we get all the patients that none of the other units in the hospital want…the drug addicts (complete with track marks), the developmentally delayed, the suicide watches. Oh, and I should mention that none of us are psych nurses, yet we’re expected to properly take care of people with psych problems. It’s been very frustrating and definitely not an ideal situation. Luckily most of the nurses that we work with have been great, which helps a lot. One nice thing about this hospital too is that they have a zero-tolerance policy with the doctors. Meaning that if the doctors are rude to the nurses in any way, they can be fired…and it’s happened. It’s crazy! Unfortunately on one of my first nights I had the pleasure of dealing with a doctor that still thinks his shit doesn’t stink…he proceeded to ream me out for not being able to answer a question that he already knew the answer to…just to be a dick. But other than him, all the other doctors have been so nice and approachable. It makes for a really pleasant work environment when you’re not intimidated by those you’re working with.
14. The seafood…I should probably mention the seafood. It’s divine. I’m loving it! I think I could go this whole assignment eating nothing but fish and seafood. And there are a lot of hidden gems for restaurants down here if you just take the time to look for them. We had conch fritters the other day, which are a lot like hush puppies but they have a tasty little seafood treat in them. Oh, and I got my cholesterol checked recently so I’m good to go for mass seafood consumption.
15. So Simon just got back from a bike ride where he unfortunately got caught in a downpour. Seriously, in Florida they sometimes come out of nowhere. Anyway, so I hear the door open, and I turn around to see him running through the apartment, soaking wet…and buck naked. WTF? This can only mean one thing…he stripped out of his wet clothes outside, in what was most likely the full view of the neighbors. My first thought was that he was riding his bike naked…this is what happens I have one idea in my head (Simon bicycling) and something comes along (Simon running around naked) and distracts from that. I guess I can’t really make comments about the almost-nude neighbor anymore…at least he keeps his underpants on. Ladies and gentlemen, this is what I live with everyday.
