BuZizzy BEeYotch
Yeah, that's the troof.
What? I misspelled? Eff-YOU, Richie Cunningham.
No "Eeyyy", either. I ain't no Fonze; I'm a busy bitch, bitch.
I began a course for certification in EMT-B about 3 weeks ago, and it's nerding me out. In a good way, though!
I mean, there's talky classroom stuff, but with practicals on CPR, lifting patients (speshal emph on the heavies), and how to get your compromised airway open again (cos' you can't breathe, mutha. nor can you tell me, duh) so I can get you to the pros.
I'm talking to YOU, fatass Angina Pectoris Man.
Can you believe I am actually working on saving fatfucks like you? You angry, huffing, puffing fist-shaker? You kicker in the shins of feeble peeps? You cantalope squeezer? You faker of hairs in your restaurant food for a free meal (even though we all know a graying chest-hair don't get into your linguine without your deliberate plucking, but we all see your wife's withering, shameful silence as you sheist us, and because she's put up with you, we love her)?
Oh. And: You Ventriloquist of Farts? C'MON, I think we all know by now that it WASN'T the pink elephant, raccoon, or toddler who just ran by.
I'm so kidding. I'm just saying this because as I go on my experiential runs (not doodies, yo) with actual ambulance crews, this is what I'm experiencing.
This is lifey, and this, my buds, is how it is. I have no expectations of glamour, or romance, or... what have you.
I simply felt the need to do a leedle update in my crazed state... and to warn you not to get old, persnickety and crappy on me.
But that's my expectations of you. My expectations of me, however, are much higher.
Poop away, Crap-Crickets! I'll try updating soon with verve and brilliance galore...
What? I misspelled? Eff-YOU, Richie Cunningham.
No "Eeyyy", either. I ain't no Fonze; I'm a busy bitch, bitch.
I began a course for certification in EMT-B about 3 weeks ago, and it's nerding me out. In a good way, though!
I mean, there's talky classroom stuff, but with practicals on CPR, lifting patients (speshal emph on the heavies), and how to get your compromised airway open again (cos' you can't breathe, mutha. nor can you tell me, duh) so I can get you to the pros.
I'm talking to YOU, fatass Angina Pectoris Man.
Can you believe I am actually working on saving fatfucks like you? You angry, huffing, puffing fist-shaker? You kicker in the shins of feeble peeps? You cantalope squeezer? You faker of hairs in your restaurant food for a free meal (even though we all know a graying chest-hair don't get into your linguine without your deliberate plucking, but we all see your wife's withering, shameful silence as you sheist us, and because she's put up with you, we love her)?
Oh. And: You Ventriloquist of Farts? C'MON, I think we all know by now that it WASN'T the pink elephant, raccoon, or toddler who just ran by.
I'm so kidding. I'm just saying this because as I go on my experiential runs (not doodies, yo) with actual ambulance crews, this is what I'm experiencing.
This is lifey, and this, my buds, is how it is. I have no expectations of glamour, or romance, or... what have you.
I simply felt the need to do a leedle update in my crazed state... and to warn you not to get old, persnickety and crappy on me.
But that's my expectations of you. My expectations of me, however, are much higher.
Poop away, Crap-Crickets! I'll try updating soon with verve and brilliance galore...
posted by Lorelei at 10:09 PM
5 Comments:
You are such a fascination!
Other than the "fat" part, I'd swear you were talking about my own self. Especially the fart ventriloquism.
C'mon...You gotta give me SOME credit. I've been working on perfecting that trick for years!
And, on the serious side... Congrats on the decision to become an EMT. Having worked in a hospital for 7 years, I know it's no picnic, but your kind is SO essential.
BTW...The "B" on "EMT-B" -- does that stand for "Byatch"?
I am so impressed by you lady......well done on the studying and stuff (is EMT like ambulance crew here in the UK? forgive me if I have that wrong)you always remind me that life is for living...I need to move myself!
Again ... keep up the good work!
Ho, there, OMC! Thanks for the congrats!
As our current Monkey-in-Chief would say, "It's hard work", but I'm up for it.
The "B" in EMT-B stands for "Basic"... it's the ground-level of knowledge needed to provide emergency care to fart ventriloquists like yourself, as well as chillens and other peepholes. When I go continue upwards in my Paramedic edulamacation, I will be licensed to administer more complicated things like totally bitchin' narcotics via IV.
Oh, and make more money. Sweeeet!
What'd you do in the healthcare environment for 7 years, eh? Do tell!
Hey, Deirdre! I don't know what the comparison would be between and EMT here in the states versus ambulance crew in the UK, but if your ambulance crew actually provides medical care as opposed to just picking up the poor thing and depositing 'em in the rig... then yep! We're the same. Only some of the guys have more medical knowledge and therefore can do more stuff.
It was nothing flashy, unfortunately. My official title was "Janitorial Maintenance", so I basically mopped floors.
Because it was such a small, community hospital, it also meant I was the laundry man, overnight security officer and "extra hands" during emergencies.
Cleaned up birthing rooms, operating rooms and trauma rooms.
Saw a laawwwt of weird shit. Even in a small tumbleweed hospital. Man, I still have nightmares.
Old Man Dudeler... Don't we see a lot of weird shit everywhere, anyways?
Secret being:
Deep Breath. Is is relevant? Do I care?
(ans = Y) Help Em!
(ans =N) Hope your Prada bag survives you.
(opt. answer) You're cute! Don't die...
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