Room by Room: The Den

Some people call it a living room, but in my family it was always called a den. I realize that I should have turned on the overhead lights in the dining area to make the colors and details seem true, but it’s good enough for a blog, I would think.

On the wall, upper left, you’ll see my beefcake photos. My friend Eric told me that I had pushed the limits of taste by hanging those. Jeremy and Leigh Ann helped me hang them- they were so careful and precise. I would have just thrown them up on the wall, but they measured. She’s now in Florida and he is in New Orleans. I miss them. You can see him in a picture above the TV, on the top shelf. That’s when I was vacationing with them and we caught an enormous Red Fish. There is also a print done by Clib above the red chair. You may see more of his stuff when I start showing bedroom photos.

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This is the mingle room. You’ll note that the dining area and living area share the same space. I like that about this house. I think my stuff fits perfectly. Okay- it’s packed, I’ll admit. But it does HOLD what I’ve got. I just can’t get any more!

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The table was a gift from Kim for my birthday this year. Her husband wasn’t happy, as it’s a really nice table that HE bought on sale at a salvage center for $100. Can you believe that? $100! He wanted to keep it, but they had two kitchen tables so Kim gave me the choice. I chose wisely, as this table ROCKS and it’s the one she DIDN’T want. A win-win for the BFFs. The fabric on the chairs I chose and Kim applied. I love it. The salt and pepper shakers came from my Grandmother on my dad’s side. They are really awesome and new to me since my Grandfather passed away about a month ago. The wooden bucket, which is old as dirt, behind the table came from their place too.

My mom painted the picture above the fire place when she was 18. She’s now resigned herself to painting bluebirds and squirrels. What a waste of talent. Dad brought the mantle clock back when he was in the military and living in Germany. There is a picture of them on the left side of the mantle. The buffet is from my mom’s mother’s side of the family.

More books, more clocks, and now you’ll start to notice that I might have a bit of a candle problem too.

The white chair is my throne. When Killer was here a few weeks ago, he tried to dethrone me. That’s right before he got the Dirty Sanchez.

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Room By Room: The Office

I’ve decided to take you on a virtual tour of my home. This is at the suggestion of Richard, who has been visiting from Nashville. His boyfriend obviously shares my love for knowing how people really live and asked for pictures. Fair enough! These are for you, Patrick!

I am going to begin with the office since that’s where I write my posts. You’ll notice above the computer is my Dukes of Hazzard folder. It was recently discovered that this is where my college diploma is. You’ll also see that I have a lot of books, a lot of lights or lamps, and several clocks. All things that I love. When I’m here typing I have pictures that are all at eye level. This reminds me of people, memories and things that are good. If you look closely, you can see SOME of my many office supplies. It’s a sickness, I know.

The huge chair is for the man that lives inside me. That chair is perfect for reading and napping with both cats. When my god daughter was little, I used to put her in that chair and turn on the “vibrate” mode. She would laugh and love it. Even though I think the chair is obnoxious in this space, I’m keeping it. Everyone needs a Lazy Boy.

The picture that shows the entrance into my office gives you a good shot of my life aquarium. Inside I have mementoes of things that have been given to me or that I’ve bought over the years. I love this life aquarium. As a matter of fact, I love this room. It may well be my favorite in the house.

I’ll post again soon with pictures and stories from other rooms. If you’d like to protest this type of sharing, by all means, the comment section is yours!

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And, yes. That is Bob Barker on the white table. I have no excuse, so I won’t even try.

Where in the World is Killer

I got a few comments recently asking where I was working and in what part of the country.  I guess it is my fault. I sometimes forget what I have said and not said.  Or maybe i take for granted that you more frequent readers will be able to read between the lines and pick up on subtle clues.

I left Sacramento after working my ass off, literally.  I literally worked 110 pounds of my ass off while in Sacramento.  Watch where you step while you are there, it could be anywhere.

I arrived in the land I grew up in, also known as Jackson, Mississippi, and spent a few weeks visiting and seeing if I could find a few of my ass pounds.

I flew to the Philippines to meet my usual travel companion, Chad, and his younger brother Manius.  We would spend four fun filled, crazed weeks there and a few days in Bali, Indonesia.

I arrived back in Jackson, MS (Did I mention it’s motto is, “The Bold New City”?) and started casually applying for nursing staff positions at several local hospitals.

I decided upon a job in the Recovery Room at a medium sized hospital called St. Dominic’s Hospital.  It is run by real-live nuns and everything.  I am guessing that the youngest one must be about 112 and the oldest probably knew Jesus personally, or at least went to school with his brother.

I am still living with my occasional travel companion, Bam, and his family.  I get to live in their bonus room, it is quite nice and always chock full of excitement and adventure.  A 14 year old girl can really add some drama to a household.  Throw in a cat possessed by satan, two small dogs, one dog the size of a horse (literally), and Bam’s Grandmother-in-law, and you will get a good picture of where I am living.  I am pretty much banking on them not even realizing I am still living here, without paying any rent, for as long as possible.

To keep you as up to date as I am willing:
Bam and I are in the legal/financial stages of acquiring a business franchise, that will remain unnamed until official.  Why else do you think I would move back to Mississippi?

A special shout out to Jester, for his invaluable advice, from first hand experience, on the one million reasons NOT to open a coffee shop.

Hopefully that will tide everyone over for a spell.  Ya’ll Come Back Now, Ya Hear?

R.A.C.E.

I have been getting paid to sit on my ass for the last few weeks.  It might sound good to some of you.  It even might just sound like work as usual for a number of you guys, but for me--- not so much. 

Don’t get me wrong.  My job is not all crazy and exciting all the time, but I usually only got to sit around killing time for a few hours out of twelve every night. 

Now, however, I am in orientation for a new hospital.  That means sitting in class rooms and watching videos and reading policy books about every asinine subject that might come up in a hospital setting.  It is made worse by my extensive travel nurse history. 

As a travel nurse, I change hospitals a few times a year, and each hospital insists on teaching me their policies, but every hospital has the same policy.  I can recite, from memory, almost half of a standard hospital policy book, and these books can be larger than the average major metropolitan phone book.

The problem is that to not follow one of these policies can be a legitimate cause for dismissal or, worse yet, a law suit.  Even with that looming pressure there are a few that I really have a problem following. 

There is a specific policy that tells me exactly what to do in case of a fire.  It even has catchy initials and everything.  R.A.C.E.  Rescue Alarm Contain Extinguish.  In short I am supposed to rescue any patients in danger, alert my fellow staff to pull an alarm, close the fire proof doors to contain the fire, AND, if feasible, extinguish the fire. 

Are You Kidding Me!?!

I am no hero.  If I see fire I am going to running screaming out of there.  I guess the best you can really expect of me is to Alarm.  The rest of my fellow staff members will realize something is wrong when they see a 285 pound man running down the hall screaming about fire and impending doom. 

Our society is getting increasingly fatter and fatter.  That means the patients in the hospital are getting even fatter than the ones you see on the street.  If a fire alarm is pulled the elevators are immediately disabled and return to the first floor.  How do they expect me to carry some unconscious morbidly obese lady down five flights of stairs?  It is more likely that I would throw her out the window and then jump on top of the big squishy blob that she becomes when she hits the ground. 

There is nothing in the policy book that says I can’t do that, but I am sure it is frowned upon.  Mostly because there will probably be a large crowd of people gathered outside to watch the hospital burn, and if she doesn’t crush someone below the window, it will still look bad from a public relations stand point.

NaBloPoMo

Many of you who lurk or don’t really pay attention to the highly nerdy world of blogging, may not know what NaBloPoMo is.  I am going to increase your blog geekery and attempt to explain.

National Blog Posting Month is a strange but intriguing venture started by someone to encourage others to blog more.  It is a spin on another bizarre creation called, NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), which is what I SHOULD be doing instead of writing shit for free.  The basic, and simplistic, concept of NaBloPoMo is to post on your own blog every day for the entire month of November. 

EASY!

All I have to do is think of something to write about every damn day.  I am pretty sure for me to really qualify I will have to do everyday myself and not rely on Liz to fill in on the weekends, or the occasional weekday. 

This could actually be a difficult task considering I have trouble remembering to do the normal activities of daily living EVERY day; things such as bathing, brushing my teeth, Not masturbating, etc.

I had meant to attempt this task last year, but did not realize it was going on until the 2nd of November, hence missing the first day, effectively blowing the entire purpose.  It is a very unforgiving contest.  I don’t really know if there is any prize or benefit.  Maybe Killer Rants will be lifted out of the muck and held aloft for all the really important blog readers to see.  The ones who make urban legends and best sellers out of mediocre writers.  I can be just as mediocre as the next guy.  Watch me get all mediocre up on this bitch!

A special thanks to Fringes for warning me with plenty of time to get ramped up.  She is also going to do it again this year.  She blames it on turning her fun loving blog into the therapeutic bare-all that it often is.  So, I won’t be going it alone.  I also encourage all of you to give it a shot.  Especially those who don’t have a blog of their own (Hellohahanarf).  It could be a great way to start.  And, if you run out of daily ideas, just do a couple of posts about my balls, that always works for me. 

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