Saturday, July 27, 2002
Time for Your Medicine, You Crazy Buckeye Sons of Bitches!
I finally got my nursing certificates from those hen-eyed, brotherfucking, soggy brained, sweat stained, swamp dwelling, brown toothed, no deodorant wearing, Confederate flag flying, cocaine smuggling, gun running, mutant, frog sucking, bribe taking, fucking Florida bureau-clerks.
So I started my new job as an Ohio psych nurse and the first thing I discover is we have to chart in green ink. I hate green ink, it makes me want to bear down and squeeze my brain out my nose and have it projectile onto the nitpicking, constipated, Chief of Staff's cheap toupee.
One of my coworkers, a dumpy old RN named Cora Dell, has a bunch of religious brochures and little Jesus and scripture plaques all over her desk. She said Jerry Falwell is her personal hero "outside of Jesus Christ Hisself."
I found her lunchbox in the breakroom and took her sandwich out of it's ziplock bag and rubbed it all over my ass. Now she's going to be eating lesbian butt butter, which I know she'll enjoy. I also switched all her green pen fillers for red ink fillers, that fucking fuck.
I went out on the unit and this schizophrenic was playing with himself. I told him I was from the Command Ship Zolov and his mission was to stop touching his dick and to count ceiling tiles instead. He asked me if I had my aluminum hat and I said that was only for ceremonial duties.
Then two delusional guys were huddled together talking neologisms. One said he was Steven Hawking and the other said he was President Bush, so I told Steven to smarten up Bush, the original Black Hole.
Then I went home and the heat was so intense, Sorrento had planted a cacti garden in the living room and it started fucking flowering. I was so hot, my bra elastic melted and fused to my skin. Now I have fucking Cross Your Heart scars across my tits.
I turned on the oven and opened the door to catch a cool breeze. My dog was chasing my cat, and they were both fucking walking.
My son's Pokemon toys had melted into a colorful puddle that he fashioned into a little princess tiara and put in the fridge to set. I had taken a few bites of it before I realized this wasn't just some fucked up Jell-O.
Sorrento was wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt and jeans, and I swear she looked so fucking totally *HOT* I wanted to drop to my knees and just bite those fucking jeans off her fine, fine, fine ass. She is so *HOT*, JLo took a photo of her ass to the plastic surgeon and asked him to redo hers. She is so *HOT* we went into a gay bar and all the bottles exploded. Have I mentioned how *HOT* she is?
Meanwhile, I have gotten another editor to look over my book. This makes the 72nd editor, but I keep having to switch because they keep yakking about shit that they want to change but I don't. Which sucks.