The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => Wild Card => Topic started by: linnea on February 19, 2007, 03:17:32 am
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As you know, I'm the proud kittymama to two adorable Scottish Folds. They narrowly escaped death on Friday morning.
I was getting ready for work this morning and realized that I somehow left my purse on the floor...a $398 Coach Soho leather hobo. IT WAS COVERED IN SCRATCH MARKS. Little bastards! Noooooo!
I wailed in anguish. WHY did I leave it out? I always, always hang it up so it's out of their reach! I couldn't smack them because they would have no idea what they were being beaten for (not only that, but I could never use corporal punishment on anybody), plus I had no idea who the perpetrator was -- Milan or Lennybruce? Both? I am SO ANGRY right now.
I put some leather conditioner on the purse, but you can still see the deep scratches.
About the only thing I can think of...is that it's time to reapply the SoftPaws nail caps to the little critters. They're too old to get them declawed. I guess this means I can never, ever own a leather sofa or ANYTHING NICE because the little bastards will shred it.
The first (and last) time that I put the SoftPaws nail caps on Lennybruce, he chewed 50% of them off within the first 24 hours. The remaining nail caps were chewed off within the week. Maybe the veterinarian can put them on his nails with extra glue while Lenny is under anaesthetic to get his teeth cleaned...Hmmm...
Who knows which one was the perpetrator... I bet it was BOTH of them scratching my purse because even Sweet Milan has been stropping his claws on my medic bag. I don't care about the medic bag because it's tough nylon and it doesn't show the damage. It's designed to protect its contents, and nothing's been damaged. One of them probably started scratching my purse because Brother was hogging the medic bag...and then I bet dollars to doughnuts that the other one had to come join in on the fun claw-stropping on Mom's Expensive-Ass Leather Purse. It infuriates me because they know that there are certain things they can't scratch, like the sofa or the table legs. Bad Lenny is usually the one who scratches inappropriately the most and has to be reined in with the Squirt Bottle of Justice (i.e. he chooses not to scratch on the kitty tree but on off-limits furniture) .
Although I jokingly call them "Bad" or "Sweet" they are still totally spoiled and VERY much loved. Lenny is in no way the outcast, he's just full of piss and vinegar and is usually the feisty one who loves to get into trouble (hence his name, which he totally lives up to). Lenny is usually sitting in front of the monitor as I type, insisting on petties and climbing all over me. Milan is a very laid-back sort of guy who will come up and very politely and sweetly ask for petties. He's started to gently headbutt me with his rrrrround little noggin, which is ridiculously cute. ^_^
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I got myself In Trouble at the mall for loudly asking why the ugly Clinique give-away bags were so far away from the cosmetics counter. I was informed that the C stands for Coach, not Clinique and that comically hideous is apparently very In (and expensive) right now.
I guess this also explains the all the fuzzy boots, bad dye-jobs, and cowl-necks in recent years.
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Your post reminds me of the lovely folks from LA (as I like to call it, "Hell-A") that are lampooned for their bad fashion taste by Malingering:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/malingering
Paging through her site is the best of peoplewatching from the comfort of your computer chair (or yoga ball, in my case). I love it -- it's like a trainwreck, you cannot look away.
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can one of the mods split the LA stuff and move it to a different thread?
thanks
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The Saddest Thing is that my family's cats think they still have claws, and still try to scratch things up.
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can one of the mods split the LA stuff and move it to a different thread?
thanks
I am not sure I can figure out how to split only those posts, but give me a while and maybe I can think of a story about this great cat that my friend in LA used to have...
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I am not sure I can figure out how to split only those posts, but give me a while and maybe I can think of a story about this great cat that my friend in LA used to have...
Done, though my apologies for wading in on your fora. You can select which posts to move as the third split option.
Back to topic - this is why I always had the cheapest of wallets. Either a dog or my cat would get at it, or I'd drop it in the mud.
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Yeah, I have sort of the same story about a very expensive set of headphones I bought myself back when I lived on my own. I went out, selected the nicest headphones I could find. I put them to use the day I bought them, the brought them home and set them on my coffee table. I went out for a couple of hours, came back, and the head phones where still on the coffee table, but the cord had been neatly chewed of and was sitting on the floor. I was so fuckin' angry. In deed enough time had passed that my cat had no idea why I was yelling at the top of my lungs. I wasn't even yelling at him - he was smartly elsewhere when I discovered the damage. And I'd only used the damn headphones once. And he'd never shown an interest in eating cords or wires of any sort before.
I did briefly want to harm him - in my head. But of course I'd never do something like that.
I later found he'd also taken a spoon out of the sink and put it on my pillow, so I think maybe that was his apology. "Oh damn, I was only going to nibble those a little bit, and now I've ruined them. I better find something shiny and give it to her to make up for this."
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"this is where she sleeps. she will find it here."
I'd like to think that that is how cats' minds work.
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I later found he'd also taken a spoon out of the sink and put it on my pillow, so I think maybe that was his apology. "Oh damn, I was only going to nibble those a little bit, and now I've ruined them. I better find something shiny and give it to her to make up for this."
Ohmygawd! That is one of the sweetest feline images I can imagine! I mean, just the thought of a cat wandering around with a spoon hanging from it's mouth would be enough, but to leave it on your pillow...
I never really had problems with cats chewing through things, and clawing things, and I've had many cats - up to the point I had to stop adopting them (one day I will get back to somewhere where I can have a cat), but we did rescue a baby rabbit from one of our cats, and since it was still fairly well, we took it in until it was healthy enough to set free. It would desperately try to gnaw through cabling and the like, but would then redeem itself by sitting quietly in the small of ones back if you were lying on the floor, and by being tiny and unbearably cute.
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can one of the mods split the LA stuff and move it to a different thread? thanks
For my involvement in the accidental threadjack, I humbly apologize.
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"this is where she sleeps. she will find it here."
I'd like to think that that is how cats' minds work.
Ohmygawd! That is one of the sweetest feline images I can imagine! I mean, just the thought of a cat wandering around with a spoon hanging from it's mouth would be enough, but to leave it on your pillow...
I never really had problems with cats chewing through things, and clawing things, and I've had many cats - up to the point I had to stop adopting them (one day I will get back to somewhere where I can have a cat), but we did rescue a baby rabbit from one of our cats, and since it was still fairly well, we took it in until it was healthy enough to set free. It would desperately try to gnaw through cabling and the like, but would then redeem itself by sitting quietly in the small of ones back if you were lying on the floor, and by being tiny and unbearably cute.
Aww!! I agree, that is unbearably cute. "This is where she sleeps, she will find it here." I cannot believe that they destroyed your headphones, though. That's bullshit. I would have been insanely angry if I had been in your place. At least my purse can still be used, but the headphones were totally destroyed. Unless you wanted to be like Ray in Airwolf and have spraypainted foam disc headphones just to look cool.
slink, I'm glad you were able to rescue the bun. I love bunnies. They're so cute. I have never had one, but my ex always wanted to have one. They're like little cuddlemachines. He wanted to have a li'l bunny to sit on his lap and chill while he read a book. I can never get another quadruped while I have "the boys", Milan and Lennybruce.
I was so livid when I found my purse that I wanted to smack them, but of course I would never do that. It would only make them afraid of me, and it wouldn't teach them anything. But jeez, I was SO ANGRY.
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Yeah, slink that is just painfully cute about the bunny. I'd give a bunny 30 min maximum in my house though. It's just not viable.
Another story about the same cat - Max:
He's got cat post traumatic stress from his previous owner who broke his ribs, so he has some very weird behaviors in general, and almost always has a look of terror on his face.
When I moved in to my apartment Max was new to me - he was about 8 months old and had lived through hell, so I really didn't know much about him other than that he is filled with fear most of the time. After unpacking, I noticed he was always hiding in this one box, so I put a nice blanket in it and and put under a coffee table where he could slip in and out of it but remain totally unseen - he liked to have hiding places, and spent 90% of his time in the box and got really upset if I disturbed him. The only time he would relax was when I watched the Simpson's, where he would cautiously climb out of the box and on to me purring, and stare at the TV. Since he'd been so traumatized by his previous owner, I just let him have his box, and decided to not disturb him if he was in it.
A couple weeks later I came home with two packs of sport socks - six pairs in each bag - and a pack of feminine napkins. Since I had no immediately need for any of these items, I set the bag down and sort of forgot about it. Then enough time passed, and I needed to use the socks to avoid doing laundry. I went to where I'd set the bag, and there sat a totally empty bag. What the hell? I started searching around - checking to see if I'd put the items away with out realizing it, searching around... but nothing. I could not find them. So it was a mystery.
Days passed. Then I was laying on the couch watching TV, and as usual I could hear a slight rustle under the coffee table: Max was snuggling in his box. Then I realized something. The rustling had a distinctly plastic-bag-ish noise to it. I lifted the coffee table and Max hopped out of his box and scurried to hid elsewhere. He disappeared to reveal that he had made a nest. He had somehow managed to pull the two packs of socks and the pack of feminine napkins into the box, rip them out of their packaging, pull out socks and feminine napkins alike, and make a perfect little nest, with a roundish-oval shaped centre for his little body, surrounded by socks and feminine product. There was no way I was going to abide by him taking my socks - which all had to be washed because they were absolutely coated with fur, and the feminine napkins had been mostly shredded to a fine pulp and got thrown away. I pulled all this stuff out and replaced them with some unneeded old PJ's, but he basically lost his interest in the box after that.
After that occasionally I'd come home to find that he'd pull couch cushions twice his size into other rooms, or the spoon thing - which actually happened more than once. He's always had an intense nesting instinct though. To this day if we leave any socks out he will take them, or at the very least chew on them. He has a little cave now -which is a basket on its side lined with a built-in quilted cushion. He doesn't put socks in it though - probably because it's so very cushy. I think he likes it because there's only one way in or out - no surprises.
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That is really sad. i have a dog that i got from a vet clinic I worked at. I started really young walking dogs, and the owner always kept a couple strays to be adopted. Not really like good for adoption always though, basically animals that got hit or that the city took away from abusive owners. When I first saw the dog, he basically tried to kill me, but was nice to those who knew him. After a while I would always walk him, and eventually i talked my parents into adopting him. He is now the best, smartest dog I have ever had. I think it was because he spent about a year of his life getting beat, a year in a shitty cage, and now gets to run free at my parents acreage, so he just enjoys himself. i also think that that is the difference between dogs and cats.
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Yeah, I know a couple people with rescue dogs that came from circumstances, and genearally, they seem to be more rehabilitable than cats. They just fall in love with their owners if their life is good. Probably because dogs are pack animals - they're basically okay with not being the alpha in a group, but they really, really need a group. Even though Max has increased his cuddly/purr times with me, I know he would not be at all surprised if I turned on him one day - he anticipates this with every moment, even though 6+ years of good treatment should have taught him otherwise.
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Man, I fuck*ng hate people who are cruel to animals. It just burns me up.
In my V-day group we were talking about that the other day, and one of the ladies had seen a dog show on television for the first time the other day. She was majorly impressed that they had this huge awareness campaign about stray animals going on, and that they raised over a million dollars to help strays. One of the other women said that she was shocked that we could give a shit about animals "with all the starving children in the world."
True, there are a lot of worthy causes out there, but I was surprised that she derided us for caring about animals because she thought that we should be only helping humans. Weird, eh?
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In my V-day group we were talking about that the other day...
I'm confused by this - is Valentine's day so traumatic that you need therapy? Is it a year-round thing, or just February?
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ironically, people who would be in dog shows probably straight-up hate the adorable mutts you find at the shelter.
our two cats were adopted from a shelter when they were still kittens. They are siblings-- their mother was killed by a dog just after they were born. I like those cats a lot. But I love my dog so much... goddamn. He's my little guy. I think he can tell, deep down, that the rest of my family likes the cats more, and so he is extra-awesome to me.
Also he thinks that I am the Alpha Male in the family for some reason.
...my cats basically hang out with every person in the family except me. If I am home alone for a few days, it is as if they are suddenly discovering that there is a boy who lives in that room upstairs, and he will pet them and give them food. Immediately they love me.
And then my mother and brother and sister return, and the cats return to ignoring my dad and me.
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ironically, people who would be in dog shows probably straight-up hate the adorable mutts you find at the shelter.
My parents vowed never again to have a pure-bred after taking in a puppy from a shelter, which was half whippet, half something. Then they got the incredibly cute half-whippet, and both are smarter than any pure-bred we've ever met. We had a springer when growing up that was just Petarded. OK, the older of the two they have now isn't the smartest (if you pay either of them any attention she goes to find something slavery for you to throw - soooo single minded) but she's infinitely smarter and healthier than most pure-bred.
That and the younger is just remarkable. Half the time she appears to be a cat at heart, then a dragony lizard thing, then a spaz, then... She's just adorable.
As for cats being strange, we used to cat sit for someone who had a huge fat tabby, who purred like a VW and you couldn't repel, but also a Siamese who was terrified of men. He was fairly wary of anyone, but I only managed to pet him about twice in the three or four years we looked after them. You'd open a door and all you'd hear was this collossal array of scratchings and scrapings and then the bang of the cat flap as he shot outside again. A real shame as he was a lovely cat.
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yeah, I mean, my dog whom I love is a probably really inbred purebred. I love that screwed up little guy.
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I'm confused by this - is Valentine's day so traumatic that you need therapy? Is it a year-round thing, or just February?
Fuck! I thought we went through this? I'm in the production of the pu$$y Monologues, it runs this weekend for two nights.
Also, I am persona non grata in my house. Sweet Fluffy (aka Milan) was hacking up a hairball when I came home, so both of them got hairball treatment smeared on their fur. I HATE doing that...because they just freak out and run around frantically to try and get away from it, and then they hide somewhere, and then they finally start licking it off. As I've said before, it's really gross, thick, sticky paste that's liver-flavoured, and I would imagine that to a cat it feels like being slathered in sewage. I feel AWFUL for having to put it on them, but they stopped manufacturing the Kitty Hairball Lick Stick, and the only way to get them to ingest it is to put it on their fur. Poor little dudes. They hate that stuff, HATE IT TO HELL.
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ok.
I've been meaning to ask.
Isn't the whole concept usually that V-Day is concurrent (simultaneous. Coincident, even.) with Valentine's Day?
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Fuck! I thought we went through this? I'm in the production of the pu$$y Monologues, it runs this weekend for two nights.
Oh, yes - covered previously. Calling it V-Day is new vernacular for me though.
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ok.
I've been meaning to ask.
Isn't the whole concept usually that V-Day is concurrent (simultaneous. Coincident, even.) with Valentine's Day?
Yes, but I can't remember why. I am sure that Eve Ensler has something to say about it on the official V-Day site. www.vday.org
Oh, yes - covered previously. Calling it V-Day is new vernacular for me though.
Sorry...I live in a small town, and there are some people who get really offended at hearing the word "pu$$y". It really surprises me! Especially because the whole point of the pu$$y Monologues is using a "shocking" word is to reclaim the word and to use it to point out that very bad things are happening TO WOMEN AND GIRLS! It's a highly political piece of theater. It is meant to make you think.
There's one woman in town who I thought was a totally confident hellraiser, but her face got beet-red when we mentioned the pu$$y Monologues and she looked really uncomfortable and wouldn't talk about it at all. Not only that, but she prevented us from selling V-Day tickets in the largest store in town, and she wouldn't donate anything to the production -- to each her own, but damn! >:( I sent out an email to folks around town describing the play without using the word "pu$$y" because I knew that it would cause some people to just shut down immediately and not even read the email. I just called it "V-Day: Until The Violence Stops" and mentioned that we'd be performing "Eve Ensler's Play".
Sigh. I miss being in a liberal town surrounded by hip, edgy folks. I'm stuck in rural AK with a bunch of women who are terrified to say or even HEAR the word "pu$$y". I should count my blessings...At least I'm in a production with 12 of the really awesome women who aren't afraid of the word. At least there are 13 of us!!!
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Oh, I almost forgot...it took almost 2 hours, but the little dudes are "speaking" to me again. Lenny's on the desk in front of my keyboard, and the sweet fluffy baby (Milan) is on my medic bag near my feet.
EDIT: 888 posts! w00t!
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oh, no, I mean, I understand why it would be simultaneous with Valentine's day. I was just wondering if there were any specific reason that your V-Day is different.
Does it really mean pu$$y Day? Wow. I thought it had something to do with Violence. As in, stopping.
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I believe I've mentioned our shelter cat, who came from Circumstances -- a very small kitten who had been found in a ditch and kept at the shelter when they had no other cats, meaning he had as far as we can tell no inter-cat socialization between whenever his mother left him and his arrival at our house. This cat has had immense problems, but according to my folks he's started to get a lot better and more catlike; recently he's even learned to purr, by some strange miracle. I'm kind of excited to come home and spend some time with the little dude, because it'll be great to see him acting all like a normal cat and not like his poor bedraggled former self.
(I should probably stop saying "little dude," because, in obedience with basic cosmic principles of irony, this cat grew up to be twenty pounds, and it's mostly just size. When he sits on you, you know it.)
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This has been the most endearing thread ever. A+++ WOULD READ AGAIN.
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At least I'm in a production with 12 of the really awesome women who aren't afraid of the word. At least there are 13 of us!!!
Christ. I was saying just the other day re: the theatre in some small town that renamed it the Hoo Ha Monologues due to some parent complaining, that their questioning child either had a pu$$y or came out of said whinging mother's... I mean, it's not even slang anatomy! It saddens me that I'd make a better parent than most people who are parents.
Ah, well... Break a leg!
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Christ. I was saying just the other day re: the theatre in some small town that renamed it the Hoo Ha Monologues due to some parent complaining, that their questioning child either had a pu$$y or came out of said whinging mother's... I mean, it's not even slang anatomy! It saddens me that I'd make a better parent than most people who are parents.
Ah, well... Break a leg!
That show would do twice as well titled, The Hoo Ha Ha's.
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My mind just couldn't wrap around the fact that there is a little kid out there who doesn't know the proper word for her body. Like, I wouldn't expect a pediatric patient to say, "Hey! Thank you for checking my pulse at the brachial artery," or "Sweet! *I* get an IV line in my right antecubital fossa vein." but... kids need proper names for things at their level of understanding.
There's a section in the pu$$y monologues near the beginning where they say, "I'm worried about pu$$ys." and they go through a laundry list of all the different regional slang words that people use, from "Poonani" to "coochi snorcher" to "peepee" to "Gladys Spiegelman", plus a whole lot more.
I mean....I thought that part of growing up was having your 3-year-old son or daughter scream out at the top of their voice in a crowded grocery store, "MOMMY! GIRLS HAVE pu$$yS AND BOYS HAVE c*ckES!" Does that women live in Afghanistan or someplace where kids aren't allowed to know those words??
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Gladys Spiegelman?
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I mean....I thought that part of growing up was having your 3-year-old son or daughter scream out at the top of their voice in a crowded grocery store, "MOMMY! GIRLS HAVE pu$$yS AND BOYS HAVE c*ckES!" Does that women live in Afghanistan or someplace where kids aren't allowed to know those words??
I am so, so waiting for my 3-year-old to say to her moderately prudish grandmother, "YOU have a pu$$y!! Because you're a girl!"
It's coming, it's just a matter of time.
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I've always referred to my daughter's external anatomy as her vulva, so she does as well. She's completely unaware that some people are uncomfortable with any reference to genitalia, which is the way I'd like her to be as long as possible. Someday she'll say something around someone who's sensitive, and there'll be a scene - and hopefully they won't send her to the principal's office or something; I figure that's a better future for her than one where she develops a lifelong hangup about a part of her being shameful or "dirty".
Its a sign of my pedantic nature that we settled on vulva as the word of choice. Anatomically, pu$$y refers to the "birth canal" (which is a euphemism that confused me for years as a wee kiddie), and really isn't a feature that you get to see on most women, naked or no.
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Man.
I am planning on doing the opposite of what my parents did, and finding some way to explain to any kids that I have that some people don't like it when you talk about these things.
I think sometimes parents forget how horrible doing/saying something embarrassing is when you're in 2nd grade.
I really get the impression that on me, my mom used all the stuff she learned from majoring in child devolpment, and then she didn't do any of it on my brother or sister.
people, I played with dolls as a child. those were my toys.
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The extent of my sexual education from my parents pretty much goes as following:
Somewhere around twelve, my dad asks me if I've picked up on the whole sex thing on the schoolyard.
I say, yeah, but don't worry about it anytime soon, at twelve I am as terrified of women as I am intrigued.
Do I have any questions? No, I'm pretty much informed.
And then, like, he pats me on the head and leaves.
And I was pretty much right, I didn't end up comfortable enough with myself to get down to the sexing until I was 20.
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I came home one day and some pamphlets had mysteriously appeared on my bed - one about menstruation, another about pregnancy, and another one that was basically the same information as the other two combined into one pamphlet. They were evenly fanned out on the bed like one would organize magazines on a coffee table. I'll never forget finding them there. There was absolutely no conversation. Later, the nuns at my school showed us some Christian-based films that filled in a little more in the school's chapel on a projection screen pulled down directly in front of the life sized Jesus crucifix and alter.
The fact that I've had a wonderful and healthy sex life can only be attributed to figuring out how to masterbate at the age of 3 or 4, combined with being hired to teach peer-to-peer sex-ed by Planned Parenthood in my teens. So it was all a fluke - I could have just as easily have ended up one of those pent-up literary types that gets off on reading Nathaniel Hawthorne and eating Triscuts.
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My first parental sex-education talk beyond "boys have a c*ck, girls have a pu$$y" came at the age of, I believe, seven, when my mom and I filled out my registration form for Girl Scout sleepaway camp together. One of the questions on the form was "has she started menstruating yet? If not, has she been told?," which my mother inevitably took as a cue to tell me. I don't remember her explanation very well, but I remember two points of confusion:
1) At first, for some reason I assumed that menstruation only happened for about a year during puberty, as some sort of kick-start thing that made you able to have babies. My mother cleared this up, at which point I was horrified by the concept that this happened once a month until you were fifty-ish. Gah!
2) I never mentioned to my mother, and thus she never cleared up for me, my irrational belief that menstruation involved expulsion of something that would look like a fetus, or at least obviously human in some way. I still don't know where this came from, but I attribute my current extreme mellowness about the topic on the fact that this particular nightmare did not come true.
The remainder of my sex-related conversation with my parents came at seventeen, right before I met my Internet Boyfriend for the first time at a sci-fi convention. The conversation consisted of "you know how to be safe, right?" "Right." "Okay, don't do anything stupid." Parenting!
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The remainder of my sex-related conversation with my parents came at seventeen, right before I met my Internet Boyfriend for the first time at a sci-fi convention. The conversation consisted of "you know how to be safe, right?" "Right." "Okay, don't do anything stupid." Parenting!
I always took stuff like this involving alcohol, drugs and sex as "alright, we know you are going to do want you want, and we can't stop you and don't care that much, but we can't tell you to do these things and give you our support, but please, please, please don't cost us money or die."
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The remainder of my sex-related conversation with my parents came at seventeen, right before I met my Internet Boyfriend for the first time at a sci-fi convention.
This brings up an interesting point: The Internet.
Pretty much, any halfway inquisitive preteen will now invariably learn the whoooooole sexual schmear from the internet, years before a parent would even think to have The Talk. Like, they'll be trying to have The Talk and the kid'll be all like "Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know all that... but how do they get the Coke can in that far?"
You'll be all thinking they wanna know where babies come from or why their peepee feels weird when they see rude titties... and they'll get right down to the business of asking how one meets a dwarf or how large of a gourd you have to put at the base of the donkey's dick so that you are not impaled.
This is the truth of the internet, this is the future.
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ew, nooooo
What's weird to me, in retrospect, is how many times I remember hearing sexual things and thinking that they made sense...
until one day I learned what people were actually talking about. I cannot comprehend how some of those things could make sense to me if I didn't understand the Sex Concept.
I had a (self)embarrassing moment a few weeks ago when a sex ed person came to talk to my floor. I got pissed off when she answered this kid's question wrong, and I set him straight afterwards.
Apparently knowing that much about sex is not OK. Weird. Would have thought it'd be the other way around.
My roommate got a little weirded out when I pulled up a diagram to show the kid where the clitoris is, though. HE NEEDED TO KNOW! EDUCATION!
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Heh. When I was in third grade my mom had a hysterectomy, and I happened to mention at school that my mom was in the hospital to have her uterus removed. I was sent to the principal's office and they called my dad:
"Yes, Mr. Muse? This is Ms. Principal. I have Little Muse here in the office. She said... *audible blush over the phone, and then a whisper* uterus,"
"Oh."
long pause
"We should have a meeting."
"Why?"
"Well, she said...*sputters* uterus."
"Well, okay. What did she say about it?"
"She said your wife was in the hospital to have her uterus removed."
"Well, she is."
This went on for about 20 minutes, my dad still completely baffled as to why this was an issue. Eventually my parents talked sense into the administration.
My mom in particular, being a medical professional, was very open about the biological realities of sex. So when I asked persistently where babies came from (I think right around 3rd grade), out came the medical books and the diagrams and I got the whole explanation.
I was sooooo grossed out by it at that age.
But the cool thing was:
1. I was accurately informed about the birds and the bees, so I had all the facts, which makes anyone better-equipped to make choices
2. It established a pretty open culture around talking about sex in my household, so I always felt comfortable, even when I was a teen, talking to my mom about that stuff. I really think it helped me make good choices and strengthened my relationship with her (we've always been really close anyhow).
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wow, really? I find that I am incredibly freaked out about talking to my parents about that stuff, even though they've always been really open about it.
I mean, I didn't tell my parents about my first girlfriend for like a month. or the 2nd one. they don't know that I'm single, either.
when I came to school, my mom made my dad buy me condoms.
OK, now that I think about it, my mom has always tried to be really open about that stuff, but she always seems really wigged out. I mean, when I was 14 she told me she didn't care if I had sex as long as I was sure I was ready, etc, it's a beautiful thing, she will buy me condoms...
and then when I had my first girlfriend she completely lost it if I closed the door to my room or we were home alone for 10 minutes.
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It's a hard thing for parents to do. I know I've never been really comfortable talking to my dad about that kind of stuff, just because it'd be weird. But my mom always made it really easy. In fact, after I graduated high school, my then-boyfriend and I took a week long vacation to a bed and breakfast on the lake. My parents were okay with it (although they were a bit apprehensive because they didn't like the guy much, but they figured I was a smart girl and knew where my boundaries were). Apparently, though, my then-boyfriend's mom called my mom practically every day and was all, "Well, do you think they're having sex? What should we do? What should we doooooo?" And my mom would just shrug and say, "So what if they are? We can't stop them, and I trust them to make good choices."
Thankfully the makeouts did not go that far on this trip. I say thankfully because my parents were right in not liking the guy. But you know, I was in high school, what did I know? :)
The funny thing is, I feel so comfortable talking to my mom about that kind of stuff that... well, nevermind, this is going to turn into an overshare, and we're off-topic as it is.
Linnea, I hope your bag is okay, and it sounds like you've forgiven your bad little cats.
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My parents have always been fairly cool with me about most anything, though at the time when I was in my first serious relationship (christ, my only serious relationship but it lasted long enough) I told my mother I would be camping out on top of a hill with my girlfriend to watch the sunrise on the solstice. She said I should talk to my brother about the whole sex thing if I needed to... Frankly, back then I'd have felt more comfortable talking to my mom about it! Not to slight my brother, who has become one of my absolute best friends, but back then, with the 6 year age difference, we didn't really open up to one another. Has to be said, it meant a lot when he phoned me to ask advice about a potential relationship some years later, and from there, and the smoking up regularly together...
You're right Muse... *cough*topic*cough*
And I'm guessing you've tried some sort of leather polish or something on that purse?
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At this point, now that I am technically-an-adult, I can pretty much talk to my dad about anything without feeling sheepish... sex, drugs, etc. My mom... no. No. I pretty much can't talk to her about anything.
I can't even tell her that I'm on anxiety meds... because she doesn't believe in them. Even though she is a nurse. She is a nurse who basically believes you shouldn't take medicine unless you are strictly dying.
Some would argue that I can talk to my dad about things I can't talk to my mom about because we are both boys... but I'm pretty sure it's not the case. I'm pretty sure it's just that my mom is a little uptight whereas my dad has spent his adult life disappointed that he was a little too young to be a full-on hippie.
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I am not even a full on adult (my parents pay like insurance and various other things that I probably don't know about, and help me with rent if I need it) but I can talk to them about all that stuff too. I am not even out of college, but in high school my mom once threatened to send me to rehab because she thought I was high (I hadn't even smoked yet at the time). It is a nice change. Today I told them that Jesus was just a psychedelic pagan mushroom (look it up), and they didn't hang up, yell, or kick me out of the family. So that is a good change.
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Today I told them that Jesus was just a psychedelic pagan mushroom
Well, I'm sure you pulled it off smoothly, but that is not good. That is not a good thing to tell your parents.
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My parents know that basically I do drugs.
They also are not religious.
They also know that, while I kind of think that it is cool, I don't really believe it and am basically being full of shit. At the same time, they know I believe that it is more likely that he was a mushroom instead of him being a son of god.
Basically, I think we all know that the major Christian rituals are there to replace pagan rituals (Easter and Christmas). My parents are well educated, they know this. Well, from there, it is not hard to imagine that the pagan ritual was based off of crazy mushrooms blooming this one time of year (the hypothesis says that this is the "Mario" mushroom). Also, apparently it was in Siberia, or somewhere close, and the Reindeers favorite food was these mushrooms, then they "flew". From there people believe that Jesus was either combined mushroom knowledge, and not real at all, or a very connected tripper. I think that is somewhat believable, but I don't believe it. Well, a little, but I wouldn't put my faith in it, or whatever. I am sure some part of this is probably true.
I have been telling my dad about the McKenna Mushroom evolution theory (whatever it is called) for about 3 years now. I guess they are just used to it. (This is that apes ate psychedelic mushrooms that eventually developed cognitive abilities.)
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Damn. I remember my dad trying to suss out if we were doing drugs when I was in highschool by asking me and Kellichou how much it cost nowadays for a dime bag.
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Damn. I remember my dad trying to suss out if we were doing drugs when I was in highschool by asking me and Kellichou how much it cost nowadays for a dime bag.
Holy CRAP I had forgotten all about that 'til now! And he probably thought he was so damn clever! Ha!
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The reply to that question is, "I don't know - is that something you can get at REI?"
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Damn. I remember my dad trying to suss out if we were doing drugs when I was in highschool by asking me and Kellichou how much it cost nowadays for a dime bag.
Whereas my dad would put on the airs of an old-timey accent and say "You young whippersnappers, when I was your age, a dime bag was NINE CENTS!" And then he would just start laughing and laughing.
It was rare that he could actually get him to smoke with us but... he was one of those parents who was of the opinion that if we were doing stuff like that at the house and no one had car keys or anything, we were probably doing it the safest way it could be done.
Mom, however, just pretended that we were, like, LISTENING REALLY CLOSELY to that Pink Floyd album.
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Holy CRAP I had forgotten all about that 'til now! And he probably thought he was so damn clever! Ha!
X-D hahaha, I KNOW!
I'm so lucky, my womb-mate totally epitomizes badassery. <3 <3 <3
Also, I haven't smoked in years. We get pee tested, for which I am glad...nobody wants a high medic or firefighter.
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My mom when to college in the late 60's. She claims to not know a single person who did drugs. I don't mean just that she and her friends didn't do them, but that she says that not a single acquaintance or classmate did drugs. In college. In the 60's.
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"You young whippersnappers, when I was your age, a dime bag was NINE CENTS!"
That is absolutely worth a tiny can. Unfortunately, your Dad isn't a member so I can't give him one.
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Unfortunately, your Dad isn't a member so I can't give him one.
My dad's diabetic so... it's probably for the better, anyway.
Unless these tiny cans are actually Diet Dr. Pepper. I never thought to ask.
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I figured I would be able to tell, but I guess Diet Dr. Pepper does taste just like regular.
Who knows.
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DDP rocks.
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Also, I haven't smoked in years. We get pee tested, for which I am glad...nobody wants a high medic or firefighter.
Ethical question: I have a dear friend with a huge amount of personal issues. She is the epitome of fucked-up, spends a lot of time with mental health professionals, is on an off all sorts of psych meds... She self medicates by smoking dope nearly constantly - being high most of the time. She is also a nurse. She is smart and a mostly good person, yet I would never want her caring for me or anyone I cared about. Sometimes I think I should put in an anonymous call about her to her employers, but I care about her and don't want her to get fired. When I stopped with the pot, this friend said she would end our friendship point blank if I took any issue with her drug use. At the time, no one else's life was in her hands, and I therefore had no problem with her drug use. Now I'm not so sure. The ethics are stickey - I really thought being in the medical profession would require some sort of screening for sever mental health issues and drug use, but aparently not... I try to comfort myself that most of her patients are in end-stage care anyway... but it's just not cool to me.
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Ethical question: I have a dear friend with a huge amount of personal issues. She is the epitome of fucked-up, spends a lot of time with mental health professionals, is on an off all sorts of psych meds... She self medicates by smoking dope nearly constantly - being high most of the time. She is also a nurse. She is smart and a mostly good person, yet I would never want her caring for me or anyone I cared about. Sometimes I think I should put in an anonymous call about her to her employers, but I care about her and don't want her to get fired. When I stopped with the pot, this friend said she would end our friendship point blank if I took any issue with her drug use. At the time, no one else's life was in her hands, and I therefore had no problem with her drug use. Now I'm not so sure. The ethics are stickey - I really thought being in the medical profession would require some sort of screening for sever mental health issues and drug use, but aparently not... I try to comfort myself that most of her patients are in end-stage care anyway... but it's just not cool to me.
If I were one of those patients or their loved ones, I would want you to make the call. Do you really think that her need to get high, or to keep her job, or your desire to keep being her friend - do any of those things beat out the need of sick and dying people people to be safely cared for?
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DDP rocks.
(http://www.accelerator3359.com/Wrestling/pictures/ddp.jpg)
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Ethical question:
I probably wouldn't touch this situation. Even if you get her fired, right behind her will be an ever higher, more severlely medicated nurse, most likely, and nothing will be rectified. She'll probably be drug tested eventually, although that doesn't mean she'll get caught. And who is to say she doesn't handle her job better or equally as well on drugs? Who knows.
Nurses don't really need to make too many crucial decisions regarding patient care, so as long as they double check whatever they're instructed to do, it should be easy to avoid any errors. But this depends on what kind of patients they work with. Maybe you should just tell her to double check those IV bags, and don't send any bicarbonate through the pneumatic tubes (it blows up).
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Ethical question...
My take:
I'd have a real problem keeping that person around me as a friend. I can not support the behaviour you've described here, mostly because of the potential impact falling outside of this person and onto the lives of people in the most helpless of situations.
So yeah, I'd smoke her out to the appropriate office. I could live with killing the friendship if it meant the friend couldn't effect a patient(s) and, also important, hopefully deal with some root causes so the friend can quit hurting herself.
The fact that she's mostly dealing with end-term care patients is immaterial. If anything, that is a time when sharp, compassionate care is most appreciated, by both patient and kin.
You're friend is wrong.
I would feel wrong in my soul knowing that situation.
My opinion.
Nurses don't really need to make too many crucial decisions regarding patient care, so as long as they double check whatever they're instructed to do, it should be easy to avoid any errors.
In my experience, this statement is wrong. I have personally crawled up as many asses as I could find over errors that caused pain, discomfort and hazard to my loved ones. They were the same kind of follow instructions and check issues that you mention.
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Yeah, that's true. Despite the simplicity of the 'double check method' it is almost impossible to find a nurse that suscribes to this system.
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(http://www.accelerator3359.com/Wrestling/pictures/ddp.jpg)
I...I... don't know what that means.
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I...I... don't know what that means.
That's what you see before the BANG.
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dallas_Page (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dallas_Page)
Education.
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Ethical question:
Ultimately only your own gut can tell you what to do here, and it sounds like you kind of already know what to do, as evidenced by your statement, "that's just not cool with me."
For the sake of examining this situation, let's repalce "smoking dope" (which is, for better or worse, illegal), with "drinking beer" (which isn't illegal). On average, a beer or two at the end of the day is no big deal for most people--good way to unwind, whatever. However if someone were to be drinking beer "almost constantly" as you say about your friend in her post, I'd say most people would have a problem with that. Regardless of whether dope should or shouldn't be illegal, and regardless of the differences between what alcohol does to a person and what dope does to a person, both affect one's judgment and perception.
There is a *significant* difference between having a smoke (or a beer) from time to time, or even daily, after work, and smoking (or drinking) it "almost constantly." If, as you say, this friend of yours is also coping with mental health issues for which she is on medication, then her drug use probably has less to do with the little zing we all get from the occasional intake of a substance (coffee, alcohol, THC), and more to do with a coping mechanism for a state of affairs she may feel powerless against.
In my view, ANY job in which one is responsible for other people--regardless of the degree--requires sound judgment and keen perception. In terms of "social status," a nurse obviously enjoys more "status" than, say, a carnival ride operator; however I would hope we would all be equally concerned over a carnival ride operator doing his/her job under the influence as we would a nurse. So the "she only works with end-stage patients" argument is moot. She needs to have all her faculties present and alert, whether she is inserting IVs or changing bedpans.
If she has mental health issues, and she works with end-stage patients, I can't say I blame her for wanting to escape with a smoke, and often. When you've made it your life's mission to heal and help those who are hurting, and the patients in your care always die no matter what you do for them, well, hell, I'd have issues and want to smoke too. It sounds to me like she needs more intervention than just the meds--hopefully she is getting counseling or is engaging in some sort of other support group to help her address her work-related stresses and her personal mental health issues.
If I were you, I'd make my concern over her drug use known, from a standpoint of compassion. I would let her know that you feel it is not helping her, or her patients, to be in this state, and that you're worried about her. She needs to feel that she is not alone, and also that she will not be judged; but also that you're serious. There is no getting around the gravity of her situation. I would tell her that I'm so worried that I'm willing to do the hard thing and let people (i.e. her supervisors) know she needs help, if it comes to it. However you also understand how important her job is to her, and you understand she probably got into it for some very honorable and admirable reasons (wanting to help people, etc.). Let her know you want to help her rediscover that, but step one is to take control of the things that are negatively affecting her, so she can grow into the spectacular nurse she wants to be. Let her also know that you will be there to support her through that (if indeed you feel you have it in you to do so), but that you will not support the drug use or the over-reliance on meds. She is in a state of learned helplessness and you will not allow her to stay there. If she refuses, let her know that your conscience will not let you sit by and allow her to treat patients while under the influence. And then be willing to follow through with that if necessary.
Remember to put you and she on the same side of the battlefield, addressing the behavior; rather than on opposite sides of the battlefield, addressing one another.She may hate you for life, but no matter how close you are to someone, your chances of losing touch with them are infinitely greater than your chances of losing touch with yourself. Your Self is the only person you ever have to answer to day in and day out, and as long as you can live with that, you're good. Chances are, she'll hate you for a little while, and then realize that you really helped her out. We cherish more the friends who can tell us to our face that we look fat in a certain pair of jeans, than the friends who will smile to our faces and let us go out on the town looking like a sausage.
Hope this helps. Good luck to you!
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I totally disagree with the "nurses can't fuck too much up". They literally have to juggle the lives of multiple people every day ... and usually since hospitals are understaffed they have too many patients.
The technical requirements for nursing are huge. You have to be able to think on your feet quickly. Being under the influence would definitely affect that. I've had friends in the past who claim that when they smoked every day it was "like smoking cigarettes". I would beg to differ.
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I've had friends in the past who claim that when they smoked every day it was "like smoking cigarettes". I would beg to differ.
Certainly that although there are definitely cases where it's like taking prescribed meds. And I don't just mean pain relief. I doubt it's the case here, as my experience hasn't been due to mental health issues, but because my brain stem got all fucked up as a kid thanks to ME, and left me with very odd brain chemistry. An example would be my father who had to retire thanks to the same condition, about 20 years early. If he drinks coffee, which he straightforwardly can't anymore, he falls asleep within half an hour. Right now, I haven't smoked for about 6 weeks, and I feel spaced out, and all rather unpleasant. So for some people there are exceptions, but as I say, it's not because I'm depressed or anything (the side effect I get is that if I smoke, I do get lazier, and ignore my moods so don't sort anything out, making it all the more complicated and ensuring I spend as much time as I can not smoking up).
That and, as is pointed out, nurses have to be well, not inebriated. Even if smoking up does make her feel more like most people feel when sober, is nursing really the right job for her at that point? I mean, given my brain chemistry even without medication, be it prescribed or illegal, it just seems like a bad idea for me to take any job where people's lives rely on me being on form that day... I think ethically, regardless of reason for smoking up, she shouldn't be doing what she's doing based on the fact that she is. But then, if she appears sober day in day out, and sharp and on it... I think you certainly need to voice your concerns to her, but explain that you have no issue with he using drugs per se. And if you do have issues with that part, then I guess, at least be honest.
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That and, as is pointed out, nurses have to be well, not inebriated. Even if smoking up does make her feel more like most people feel when sober, is nursing really the right job for her at that point? I mean, given my brain chemistry even without medication, be it prescribed or illegal, it just seems like a bad idea for me to take any job where people's lives rely on me being on form that day...
This is an important point. I used to have a job where if I made a mistake, I could fix it the next day by rearranging some words on paper or making a phone call. Now I have a job where if I make a mistake, living things can end up dead. The risks if I keep working on a day when I'm coming down with a migraine or am otherwise somehow impaired are completely different. There are many jobs that your friend could have where she is not putting the rest of the world at such risk.
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Is she smoking at/prior to work? If she's just doing it afterwards, I don't have much trouble believing she can stay functional. If she's doing it on the job I would have a problem.
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Yea, to the outside world I may seem like I smoke nearly constantly, but I really only smoke at night. Sometimes, like if I have a three hour class to go to I may toke up, but besides that I save it for when I am free. You get higher that way anyways. That is the issue, if she is smoking at work, or just alot when she can.
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The idea being that she's partaking on her free time?
Studies on the 'hangover' effect for marijuana are mixed. Just follow the links off this recap (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&list_uids=2992898&dopt=Abstract) that seems to support some level of cognitive impact and you'll find others that are inconclusive or negative.
Instead of going all screedy here I'm just going to say that behaviour outside of the workplace that includes the possibility of diminished workplace performance, when said performance impacts the immediate health and quility of care of multiple others, is completely unsupportable.
Separate standards and expectations based on position and impacts?
Yep.
My opinion.
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But what is the difference between a person who smokes weed on their free time and a person who gets drunk on their free time? Are you saying that you would report an alcoholic doctor, if you knew of one?
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Assuming all other points equal...
Yeah, I'm taking the stoner medical professional over the drunk medical professional.
All other points probably can't be equal but... yeah. I gotta go there too.
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this reminds me of an interview with a guy at the FBI. They asked him about why they have a question on the background check-- have you smoked marijuana in the past (some number) of years? the interviewer asked "I mean, would you hire an alcoholic over someone who smoked pot in college?"
The answer: "well, being an alcoholic isn't illegal."
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But what is the difference between a person who smokes weed on their free time and a person who gets drunk on their free time? Are you saying that you would report an alcoholic doctor, if you knew of one?
...behaviour outside of the workplace that includes the possibility of diminished workplace performance, when said performance impacts the immediate health and quility of care of multiple others, is completely unsupportable.
To clarify, in my statement the means of impairment are immaterial.
To specify, things like lack of sleep, fights with your SO, having a cold are part of the human condition.
Getting ripped on whatever when you know you gotta work the next day is irresponsible. That level of irresponsibility varies with the level of impact the post impairment state will have beyond oneself.
So yeah, the stoner and the drunk are equal douchebags in...
My opinion.
Question: why you guys gotta go there? Really, do you think there's a possibility that I might be obliviously stupid to the point that alcohol (and a buncha other things), while legal, have post intake impairment effects? Or that I figure the label of 'legality' magically makes the after effects morally and socially OK?
Shit no.
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Both the alcoholic doctor and the stoner doctor should just be in another profession where they can't hurt people. They shouldn't be truck drivers or pilots or zookeepers either. There are plenty of other jobs they can have where they won't endanger lives.
Quite a fine thread-wander, by the way.
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Quite a fine thread-wander, by the way.
Especially when you consider that when this thread was just a baby, we already split out a conversation about Los Angeles culture. And especially especially when you consider all the ways that to speak of LA culture and to speak of drug culture is to speak of the same thing.
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Quite a fine thread-wander, by the way.
Why? Scottish Folds and their addictive ways!
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Man, hasn't House taught you party people anything? Drug addiction makes you a better doctor, and I, for one, believe it.
In touch with the mechanisms of the universe and all that.
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Why? Scottish Folds and their addictive ways!
Heh!
Legal or illegal, I believe that any kind of impairment while on the job is bad. I hate to sound "biased" against people who smoke weed or do cocaine or whatever, but that kind of drug use is incongruent with many professions. Any person who is responsible for people's health or safety should not be intoxicated while on the job or take illegal drugs. Frankly, I'm amazed that the Nurse In Question hasn't been drug tested yet. She probably had to take a UA when she got hired on, but they should really do some random drug screenings. I would place an anonymous call and tell them to start drug testing their employees. That way you're not naming names or singling her out.
For example, we* get a full tox screen if we Fuck Up**, inclusive of everything and anything that we've got on board at the time: any prescription meds we might be taking, alcohol, illegal drugs, the whole works. Just because alcohol is a legal drug does NOT make it okay to have any alcohol in one's system. Just like a pilot is free to drink on his/her off hours, unless their BAC is a solid ZERO after an accident, they're screwed. It's legal for me to drink on my free time, but if I show up to a call with ANY level of alcohol I'm toast. As in...give us your door key, blue light, and all department-issued gear, cuz you're permanently off the roster.
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*I'm a volunteer firefighter/medic as most of you know. This holds true for all paid staff and all volunteers in our service.
**Although we are theoretically prone to getting a tox screen at any point, we are mandated to go pee in a cup and/or give a blood sample if something of consequence happens...for example, we had a fire at the powerhouse and our engineer got a little feisty and piloted Engine 4 a little bit off-road as he was trying to stage the apparatus. No major damage but the bottom of the rig got scraped, so he had to go pee in a cup.
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I was just making sure we are being consistent, as I am used to dealing with the hypocrisy of the Real World.
I don't know though. I mean, I am fine with an alcoholic or stoner doctor as long as they aren't coming to work fucked up.
I hate all doctors equally though.
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To veer back onto topic:
I spent $6 on a little thingy of wheatgrass at the grocery store for my bad little rats to chew on. they haven't touched it yet. Dammit, Mi-wan and Lennybruce! I got it FOR YOOOOUUUU!!!
Random question, since I have some wheatgrass lying about...Anyone know where I can get a wheatgrass juicer? I will check on eBay and such but I wasn't sure if any of you TOUAMBies happened to have one lying around that you're looking to get rid of. It's a long shot, but I thought I'd ask. In college I was a barista at an Alfalfa's/Wild Oats store in Denver. One of the girls I worked with was a rawfoods vegan punk and since she didn't drink, she used to dare me to take wheatgrass shots with her. Ah, good times.
But yes, Spoiled Scottish Folds. Very cute, very spoiled.
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I was just making sure we are being consistent, as I am used to dealing with the hypocrisy of the Real World.
When you become an adult they make you take a Hypocritical Oath.
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I spent $6 on a little thingy of wheatgrass at the grocery store for my bad little rats to chew on. they haven't touched it yet. Dammit, Mi-wan and Lennybruce! I got it FOR YOOOOUUUU!!!
Just wait -- they'll find ways to be naughty with it. Cammy and Ashby have a little thing of grass and sod in a plastic bowl on the floor for their gnawing, and recently they've gotten into pulling the grass/sod out of the bowl and just leaving the little divot in the middle of the living-room floor. They'll do this whenever they're not being watched; this afternoon alone I put the damn thing back three times or so.
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I've looked into it, and there is most definitely no random drug testing of nurses here, and know for a fact that my friend was never tested. The nurses union holds huge sway locally, and they absolutely oppose testing, and it therefore almost never happens. I looked into the rules and regulations of nursing, and not only her substance abuse, but also her significant mental health issues would deem her unfit for nursing. These were both issues that were pre-existing before she was certified, and though questions were asked (and lies were answered) there is not drug testing done.
She definitely gets high before going to work.
She is both suicidal and potentially physically violent (she physically attacked me once before when she was off her perscribed meds and acting irrationally), which makes confrontation very risky. Though she is a smart and lovely person in many respects, she is my SO's friend more than mine and probably wouldn't be in my life if the choice were mine. I've strongly encouraged her to tell those providing her with psychiatric care that she is abusing drugs but she's yet to do so. I've spoken to her on a rational level about how the medications perscribed to her could easily interact with the drugs she is abusing, and that her psychiatrist should know this to treat her properly. She agrees with me (she's a nurse after all), but hasn't told him - probably because he knows what profession she's in, and she knows what the fall out would be. I've even gone so far as to pointing out that her paranoia, which is part of a myriad of psychological problems she has, could easily spring from the daily use of pot for decades, which she denies. The main issue is that she doesn't see her drug abuse as a problem, and believes she would have killed herself long ago if it weren't for it's presence in her life, and to be honest, I don't disagree with this. I do however, think that she made the wrong career choice given all these factors. Then again, she's worked so hard, and manged to make a career for herself in spite of huge obstacles, and it would be tragic for her to lose the footing she has made...
To be totally honest, I spent 22 years caring for (and I don't doubt enabling) my mentally ill mother, and I'm not interested in taking on another "case." I tend to attract damaged people since I have a deep understanding of their nature, but then the fall out is so very hard on me. I don't want the chaos in my life that would result from me getting involved - I've heard from her own mouth how destructive and scary my friend can be toward others she blames for the problems she's often responsible for. I also feel a sense of emotional integrity that keeps me from simply report her behind her back, along with a lot of anger that those who should have caught this - i.e. those involved in the certification process, those who employ her now, those who've provided her with psychiatric care - have failed. To be totally honest, the only way I can see myself doing anything without being personally harmed would be through an anonymous tip-off, but isn't that just selgiraffe, weaselly and weak?
Also, cats.
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To be totally honest, the only way I can see myself doing anything without being personally harmed would be through an anonymous tip-off, but isn't that just selgiraffe, weaselly and weak?
Also, cats.
Not when your looking at the situation as you've described. Unfortunately, it sounds like an anonymous tip may not have much effect considering the situation as you've outlined it.
I do not urge you to go to extravagant measures that may effect your own safety. That's selgiraffe of me 'cause I like to read your internet ramblings.
I do question why this person, with the past history you've described is in your life. However, I think my situation and characteristics are different to yours in such a way as to make my opinion no longer usefull to you.
Now, to cats. I buy mine off with smelly socks which they can hunt and drown in their water bowls daily.
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I do question why this person, with the past history you've described is in your life.
Indeed. It's complex. She is actually the matchmaker who put my SO and I together half a decade ago. Then both my SO and I had our own drug abuse issues which spiraled out of controle for a while. Then the two of us decided to clean up our act. At this point it's been almost a year and a half clean for both of us, but we've still got friends like her in the periphery of our lives who are still a mess.
And now, truly in regard to cats:
One of our cats has started doing this horrible thing. She comes to the bed a few minutes before the alarm clock goes off in the morning, and lies in the space between the wall and our heads on our pillows and purrs. You have no choice but to pet her, and she's already purring in anticipation - and she lies in such a way as to make seeing the clock impossible. It is some serious hypno-purr action, which leads to not getting out of bed. Today we only escaped 15 min before we needed to leave the door. She is going to ruin us!
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Is it possible to move the alarm clock to somewhere visible even given the cat? In situations like this, I tend to favor moving an inanimate object, which doesn't have harsh feelings and will allow itself to be moved, over persuading a cat, for which neither of the previous statements are true.
(I apologize; my damaged-people wrangling is weak, and I wish it wasn't so, but I can give advice on cat problems.)
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...my damaged-people wrangling is weak...
What an awesome friggin' phrase.
Also a good suggestion. Pretty funny that kitty has figured out the alarm clock habits of the people..
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Actually, I should clarify that she started out a few months ago by sitting on the alarm clock, but then figured out the pillow was more comfortable and that as long as she sat in the hand-to-alarm path that rubs would happen. The alarm clock really has no where else to go. It's really about self-discipline. But she's really hitting us up when we're vulnerable. I love the cats, but like I said before their jerks. Thankfully one of the other cats is totally insane about breakfast and starts scream-mewing if we don't dish it up on time. They have a balancing action. The third one just sits at the foot of the bed, patiently waiting as the cycle runs its course.
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I also feel a sense of emotional integrity that keeps me from simply report her behind her back, along with a lot of anger that those who should have caught this - i.e. those involved in the certification process, those who employ her now, those who've provided her with psychiatric care - have failed. To be totally honest, the only way I can see myself doing anything without being personally harmed would be through an anonymous tip-off, but isn't that just selgiraffe, weaselly and weak?
Also, cats.
Have you thought about how you'd feel if a patient was hurt or died because she screwed up? And you knew you could have done something but didn't?
Also, cats: Parasites on society with the power to cloud minds. They have a very good racket going for themselves. You have to admire it.
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Unfortunately, it's not a matter of "if" she hurts someone, it's WHEN. It's a crap situation. You don't want her going all psycho and ruining your life, but it's a terrible situation.
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Unfortunately, it's not a matter of "if" she hurts someone, it's WHEN. It's a crap situation. You don't want her going all psycho and ruining your life, but it's a terrible situation.
I don't think it's really an issue of 'when.' Nurses hurt people all the time. I don't know if they're high or not, but in many facilities people are getting hurt by nurses constantly.
What it comes down to, I'm thinking, is the quality of facility she works at. I've seen some seriously understaffed nursing homes and hospitals where it seems like the nurses don't have an ounce of concern for the patients whatsoever. For example, a grandmother of mine recently had some stays in a hospital where nurses would wheel in a cart of food into a room to a patient that could not feed themself, THEN LEAVE. The food would just sit there until an orderly came to cart it away, untouched! Every meal. Now, if you got someone fired from a place like this, what good will be done? I don't know if they're overworked, lazy, or stoned, but that place needs as much staff as they can get. I've had a grandfather that was given someone else's medication by a nurse and the error put him into an acute crisis: a pretty horrendous error. I was too young to be told what the attack was, but the point is that it was treated and he survived, and in retrospect, the error probably wasn't something someone should be fired over, in my arguable opinion.
Now, if she works with ICU patients, or in the ED, or perhaps even if she works in an upper end facility which is expected to be providing the highest quality of care: now it's another story altogether, and without a doubt she should be reported and have her license revoked. But if all she is doing is carting around food, handing out pills, giving baths, and taking blood pressures, I don't know if such drastic measures are really in order.
Especially if she works in some understaffed local hospital or nursing home, getting her fired, that will harm more people than any medication error or IV bruise ever could.
I think you need to make a decision on this woman in a utilitarian manner.
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Fuck! I thought we went through this? I'm in the production of the V@gina Monologues, it runs this weekend for two nights.
WHOA!!! When did "someone" make a god-damned filter for the word V-A-G-I-N-A?? It's not the pu$$y Monologues, dammit.
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WHOA!!! When did "someone" make a god-damned filter for the word V-A-G-I-N-A?? It's not the pu$$y Monologues, dammit.
You can't get upset about the filters if ##### and ***** are filtered. Sure, we all love pu$$y (or vulva, or clitoris) but everybody gotta serve the filter.
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You can't get upset about the filters if ****** and ##### are filtered. Sure, we all love pu$$y (or vulva, or clitoris) but everybody gotta serve the filter.
man.
I want to just run around and yell V-A-G-I-N-A like the YMCA song.
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That is pretty funny, actually. I don't have a v a g i n a though, so maybe it is not.
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To be fair c*ck is filtered too, after a fashion.
And it's not like it's censored, it's just got a fancier a.
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p enis = c*ck
c ock= cock
v agina= pu$$y
p ussy= pussy
alright, fair enough I guess.
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If your name is Lennybruce and you're a bad cat, you know you're too goddamned spoiled when:
You deliberately wake your human up a million times every night, yet she won't lock your sorry kitty ass in the bathroom when she goes to bed at night. She just can't bring herself to do it.
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yes. that is the definition of spoiled.
although, to be fair, when my kittycat wakes me up, I don't make him go away. granted, he usually only does this once.
he is a fatass, too. one time he was sitting my my sheets, and my half-asleep self couldn't figure out why they were so heavy... I got really cold, and I didn't understand why my sheets wouldn't come up any further.
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If we lock Pandora J. Cat in the bathroom for more than like 20 minutes, she poops in there.
So, we don't lock her in the bathroom much.
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Our bossy alpha cat is around 5 pounds and is the boss of the other two cats, but she's a lover of all humans and loves it when random strangers show up, genearally making a fuss and demanding their rubs. She met a toddler for the first time a couple days ago, and this was also the toddler's first time meeting a cat. The toddler has a puppy at home about two times the size of him and still growing. Here's how it went:
Toddler: (seeing cat) Ah! Ah ha ha ha!
Cat: (seeing toddler) What? Cool! Humans come this small?
Toddler: Ha, ha, ha! (pets cat)
Cat: Hey... I like you!
Toddler: Ah ha ha ha! (pets cat)
Cat: I like you so much! Purr, pur, purr!
Toddler (while mounting cat) Ah ha, ah ha ha!
Cat: Uh... What are you doing?
Toddler's Mom: Oh, you shouldn't do that. You have to be gentle.
Toddler (while humping cat) He he he!
Cat: You're humping me... and I like it! Purr, purr.
Toddler (gets up, remounts cat) Wee hee hee!
Cat: This is most odd... but please continue!
Toddler (Continuing to hump cat) Ha, ha ha!
Cat: Ah not bad!
Toddler's Mother: Now don't be too rough
Toddler: (gets off cat, looking sheepish for humping cat)
Cat: Hey... could you please hump me some more? No, seriously. Here's my butt.
Me: Isn't that weird? She likes it!
Cat: Yes I do!
Toddler: (Sits on cat) Ha, ha!
Toddler's Mother: But he's being so rough!
Me: Isn't that weird?
Toddler's mother: I wish she'd scratch him so he'd learn that not all animals are nice.
Me: (watching the toddler hump my cat) Well, I don't think that's going to happen. She likes it!
Toddler: (getting up) Ha, ha, ha! (kicking cat)
Me: Nooo. You shouldn't kick the cat.
Cat: No... no! I like this. Don't make him stop!
Toddler's mom: You can't kick the kitty. That's not nice. Just because we're at Melanie's house doesn't mean there's no time out.
Me: That's right.
Toddler: (makes embarrassed face due to being "bad," leaves the room)
Cat: (Following toddler out of the room) Hey wait! It's okay, you can sit on me! Come on! Sit on me! Be rough with me! Waaaait!
My cat followed him around for the entire visit, practically begging for the toddler to abuse her, and afterward, she acted weird for the two days following this visit, like she was looking for someone... I think she's in love or something.
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My mother is out of town for the week, and Ashby is absolutely beside himself with confusion and loneliness. He'll sit in the living room and just cry, despite the fact that my father is right there and I'll come out to check on him. Poor little guy; life must be rough for a dumb cat who's only really attached to one person.
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I'd like to see THAT in Garfield.
Smells, you are a comic genius.
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Our younger chihuahua (who thinks he's a cat) has taken to watching when I set my alarm, and waking me up 20 minutes before said alarm goes off to take him outside. If I have to get up at 6, he wakes me at 5:40. If I can sleep in until 7:30, he'll wake me at 7:10. He pees on everything, and instead of getting him fixed (my idea to solve the problem), my wife had her mom sew him little ##### that we slip feminine pads into. And then she gets me to go buy the pads.
The dogs aren't the only spoiled ones in the Haushold.
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Our younger chihuahua (who thinks he's a cat) has taken to watching when I set my alarm, and waking me up 20 minutes before said alarm goes off to take him outside. If I have to get up at 6, he wakes me at 5:40. If I can sleep in until 7:30, he'll wake me at 7:10. He pees on everything, and instead of getting him fixed (my idea to solve the problem), my wife had her mom sew him little ****** that we slip feminine pads into. And then she gets me to go buy the pads.
The dogs aren't the only spoiled ones in the Haushold.
Oh man... That would be one little rat who'd get locked in the bathroom (linoleum floors, no rugs) and puppy pads on the floor. Craaaazy!
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today, sitting in my house, i heard the most pathetic, crying-like meow I had ever heard.
I followed the sound, which repeated, to my parent's bed.
underneath-- our smaller cat.
she looked utterly embarassed, and ran away.
a-so: my friend bryan's girlfriend has a small kitten. his name is sinatra, and we were playing with him. while swiping at us...
I am not sure what the exact chain of events was, but he got his claw stuck in his upper lip. his solution to this was to pull on it until it (I suppose) would cut through the lip? this was alternated with biting his own paw for the 10 seconds or so that it took for us to hold him still and remove the claw from the... maw.
it was pretty upsetting.... and utterly hilarious.