Sunday, September 24, 2006

EMT Klassy!

...Because I know you been waiting.
Been biting the nails, have ya? Picking the nose, and itching in places your momma told you not to?
You can stop now.
Hello! These are the peeps who have had to endure my presence 40 hours a week for, like, 8 weeks.
I have SO enjoyed myself with these humans. It's really strange how close you can grow when you're hanging out for hours at a time.
It's like my own dysfunctional family, only I'm not related to any of these freaks.

I'm already going through withdrawal.

Pictured here is pretty much everyone*:

Juan, Gwen, Jennifer, Kirk (back), Amanda, Me, Damani (front), Wajdy, and Louis

They are silly people.

I MISS YOU, SILLY PEOPLES! Cocktails and/or food soon? Like, for those of you who don't drink or are celebrating Ramadan and stuff?

Here's silly people in action:

* NOT pictured would be:

Sa'ana: Med student extraordinaire. Cute, petite, and mouthy as hell, she took the course in order to focus on Emergency Medicine, in which she, after she breezes through her medical boards, will specialize. Friggin smartass.

Sheila: Skinny, chip-chompin' mother of one. "That is NOT the question I asked, Laura"... Well, miss-- the question I ask is WHERE the fruck were you half the session? And how come with all them Cheetos your ass ain't huge?

Chris: Our quick-witted, mongoose-y Instructor. Forced upon us the term, "Overlord". M'Kay. Simple enough. Wonderful educator, if, at times, a bit, uh, "special". The only reason he's not in said group photo is that the other shot taken by Amanda had to be discarded, as her nicotine withdrawal made us all look like blurry motherfuckers.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

I Gots Me a Crush.

He's silver-fox dreamy.
He's well-read, well-spoken, and has that timbre of voice that makes yer nipples stand at attention.

He's a modern-day Paul Revere, but cheeky and eloquent like Shakespeare with a tattoo!
He's Keith Olberman! And I ask myself:

Where the frick have I been?

Oh, yeah. I been in school.
Head in the books. #2 pencils. Playing with combitubes, nonrebreathers and CPR dummies.
OY, NOW! BULLETIN! I graduated! I passedeth my EMT National Exam!
I git to ride the woo-woo! Woof! Bark!
More crap on that later, though. Won't be interesting enough unless I upload some pics and little flicks of my classmates. You need the Monty on this one in order to appreciate, for sure.

Anyways... there IS a Batman! It feels like Christmas, or Easter, or like when I find a fin (that's $5) in a pair of pants I haven't worn in years.

And he's on the TV.
The T.V.?
You know, that thing sitting in yer Watching Something Area?
99% of the time it's usually pooping out vacuous bullshit, like "I Wanna Be America's Next Top Jackass"
or "Paris Hilton: I Have No Gag Reflex", but every once in a while there's 1% of actual content.

Like, SMART content.

I don't know about you, but listen: I gotta go right now.
I'm clipping off a lock of my hair for my scrapbook. Commemorate this moment and such, so I can remember the moment where I began to feel the mainstream of human existence realizing there is something uber-fucked up, here.

Lookit! Keith's online, too! Check it:

Monday, September 11, 2006

9/11, In Memoriam: But WTF?

Yes, today is the Fifth year commemorating 9/11.

I feel loss.
I feel tired.
I feel horrible.
I feel the wandering unrest of the souls of so many, wondering, "WHY?" and I also know some of those left behind to bury (not many, to my advantage, i suppose), whose earthly lives will never be the same.

They have paled themselves into ghosts, for an unfortunate, obvious reason.

But I have asked myself time and again: What WAS the reason? There is still so much left unanswered.

Even as I watched the newscast with horror, completely dream-like and unfolding ever more surreal, there was a part of me... a humongous part... which felt the whole thing to be orchestrated somehow.

I am not belittling anyone's loss.
Nor am I "unpatriotic". I love my country, and count myself among the grooviest and most blessed, if you will, to have advantage of taking opportunity of... well, a multitude of opportunities.

So if what I'm tapping out here offends you, do yourself a favor and shut the shit off. Go elsewhere. Spend your hate on-- Oh, I dunno, your neighbor?

I still believe in Freedom of Speech. You can tell the next person pissing you off that they are a Right Poo-Eater. Ha! So 6th grade, but I love that one.

I also believe in saving room for Jell-O. You ever heard THAT one?
It's kinda like saying, "Don't raise that middle finger in offense until you've seen it all", or if you're a James Bondie, "Never Say Never".

Really: Do you actually KNOW your neighbor?
For real: Do you trust that the dude you give 50 cents to really needs to catch a bus, like he told you?
No, REALLY: Do you unequivically believe that your government is doing everything in YOUR best interest?

Thursday, September 07, 2006

ASK ME WHY I CARE: An update

About being negligent with my posts, the public diary to I dunno whom?

I really don't. It's just that I have that Catholic Guilt instilled. It's like a freaking homing device.

Either way, I will catch you up-- but more importantly, myself! Yes! Me! Selfish!-- on subjects re:

* The death of my aunt Loretta, The Punkette before The World Knew Punk, and also my mother's closest conspirator and confidante;
* The birth of my little nephew, Ryan Joseph, a tiny, glorious nugget of Irish-Korean dreamery;
* The drunken lady who phoned me one night, who, when I asked who she was, simply told me that she was 'having a night, dahling, and so should you. We're at...' (phone Klaks to floor);
* The motherfucker at the intersection of Central and North Ave., who continually insists on cleaning my windshield with spit and chutzpah. I got nothing for you, man, so stuff it and stop getting Tourette's on me;
* And the fly in its death throes, whapping its own little crap-dancing body against the monitor, again and again. Whatchoo looking for? The tap-shoe for poo you lost somewhere in my house?