My co-worker just gave a Happy Birthday sticker to a sex offender. Convicted rapist. Birthday sticker. I love my job.
A patient told another provider that he believes he has lead poisoning from the lube on his vibrator. I love my job.
At AIDS Administration meeting earlier this week. We were told there are many Positive changes being made. No one cracked a smile. I love my job.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
I sat down to eat my pancakes this morning in front of an episode of Bones. And although I have a strong stomach for gore (but not for french fries, unjustly), and although I was very excited about my damn pancakes, this image brought me close to hurling.
Damn that schlocky nightime soap. Damn it!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Isaac Mizrahi has developed a bag inspired by the New York Times. I never thought of it as a handbag. Or as something that inspires great visual art. I mean, they call it the Gray Lady for goodness sakes. Odd.
The bag:
http://www.luxist.com/2009/03/14/isaac-mizrahis-new-york-times-bag-handbag-of-the-day/
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
Sunday, March 01, 2009
This is what the analog to digital broadcasting changeover has meant to me- more access to spanish language PBS offerings. Channel 67 is local PBS, with all kinds of incredibly dry and often laugh-tracked shows starring old people. And 67.2 in the new digital pantheon brings more of this well-intentioned but very-boring-to-me programming. But 67.3 is the real kicker. For instance, here's what was playing last night in the 9:00 slot:
Expose on ol Maria Monty. Did she really love children? Were those accusations true about her little experiments during her time as a prison warden? I should have watched to find out.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A conversation with a patient today. I am not making this up.
Me: I know you two are in a happy place right now, but you told me the abuse has been going on for years, and it's likely to happen again. You don't deserve to be treated like that.
Patient: Thank you. I know you're right because I watch a lot of LMN-Lifetime Movie Network.
Me: [Pause where I have no idea what to say. I decide to ignore it.] Yeah, no one should ever hit you. So when you're ready to talk about getting to a safer place, I want to help. Let me know.
Can I include this in my yearly self-eval? Along with the time I buffed a guy's feet with a nail file to get the layers of fungus and skin cells off? That should count for more than "commitment to team" and "attitude- a positive force."
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 06, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
"I love your streaming hair. At night, I’ll imagine it draped over my neck and stomach, the most soothing of sheets. I’m confident in what the world has in store for us."
from here
The hair part is nice, but the confidence part is what got me. I've had some poetry written to me in the past, and I found it pretty cheesy. Perhaps I wasn't ready to hear it or whatever (attempting not to be hateful in case an ex finds his way here).
But that's a pretty spectacular thing to say to someone.
Friday, January 30, 2009
I've been interested lately to hear from people who are working out their faith in a Christian God in varied and yet genuine ways. (or do I mean earnestly. or in real ways. or with integrity. or all of the above.)
It leads into the question of just who is a Christian and what it means to be one and who gets to decide what the dealbreaker beliefs are and all those defining questions. All those "are you in or out" questions that have less and less meaning to me lately.
I followed a link to a link and saw Margaret Cho's post about her own faith. And I found yet another unique relationship with God. Read on after the break for what she said if you're interested.
"All kinds of Christians are getting mad about my Sarah Palin comments, and it is pissing me off.
First of all – you fucking fake Christians - don’t fucking question my Christianity. I grew up in the church. My grandfather was a minister, who is with God now and talks to me in my dreams from God’s corner office. I am a former Sunday school teacher. I taught the Bible to children and showed them how to love God and invite him into their hearts. I believe in God – but I don’t fear him. God is my best friend. God is my ally. God is my boyfriend. God is my best fag. I am God’s fag hag cuz didn’t you know, God is a big fag. Serious bottom too. Butch in the streets, femme in the sheets. That is my God. God is my biggest fan. God gets me, dude.
God wants us all to just get along. He doesn’t give a shit about the profanity. The bitch fucking invented profanity. He thinks it is hilarious. He just wants you to talk to him, and he doesn’t care what you have to say. He just wants to keep the conversation going. Like Jay-Z, he just wants to love you. He just wants you to be able to make your own decisions. God is all about you and what you need. God is happy that you are gay. God made you fucking gay cuz he thinks it is awesome. God understands if you need to have an abortion. That is why he created abortion, on the 8th day. God accepts. God forgives. God loves all of us, even though some of us might have a problem with each other.
Don’t fucking question my Christianity you fucking idiot assholes. If you continue to have a problem, then talk to God about it, not me, you fucking racist homophobic misogynist fake Christian shitheads. God thinks it is funny that I swear so much. He said I could use his name in vain or whatever. He just wants me to use it. He loves me. So fuck you. And I guess he loves you too. Even though you are fake Christian assholes. If you were truly Christians, you would let gays get married, and send them fucking presents from Bed Bath and Beyond!
If you truly believed in Jesus, you would try to be like him and love us, fags and dykes and feminists all. God bless you, even you. You fucking fuckers."
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I think this is a first for Purulent Discharge- a positive post about my job, which I really do love and is my dream job. I end up writing about the bad stuff and celebrating the good stuff privately. So here's the flip side of all my groaning:
I just spoke with a neurology resident who is willing to waive her entire fee to see my uninsured patient with nasty recurrent seizures. I've been trying to find help for this patient for about a year now. Apparently prayer sometimes makes things happen. Apparently God actually cares about humans and wants to give them gifts like this. I wasn't so sure of that for a while, and I'm sure I'll be unsure again. But for now, I'm grateful.
Monday, January 26, 2009
New Policy for this clinic, effective immediately:
*If you are being or ever have been abused by your spouse, you may not make appointments here. We will provide you with phone numbers for providers who can handle hearing shit like that better than I can. These other providers seem to be comfortable with their powerlessness, whereas I am not.
*If you are being or ever have been sexually abused, and especially if your kids are being sexually abused, don't even bother calling. I don't want to speak to you.
*If you or your children have been or are the victims of incestuous abuse, forget you ever heard our clinic's name.
Thank you for your consideration in burying your problems deep inside and not seeking help.
Signed,
The PA
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
I need a new post to move the parody of hatespeech down the page a little. It was giving me the shivers.
I had always placed Joni Mitchell in the category of Paul Simon and Jim Morrison other too skinny whiney undergrad boys with delusions of grandeur- the kind I see scribbling mixed metaphors in a composition book in the corner of Starbucks. I find all three artists' lyrics impenetrable and their singing isn't supposed to be the point. Or at least I hope it's not supposed to be the point; I assumed that's how they got away with alternating between wailing and monotones. And don't get me started on Paul Simon's World Music Phase.
To summarize, I didn't get their lyrics and their music isn't as overproduced as I like my music to be. A wise professor I had at age 19 taught me that it's more constructive and respectful to say "it is not to my taste for this reason . . . " instead of "it sucks." But I feel so much more like a real critic when I discard the entire work.
At any rate, I heard Joni Mitchell's All I Want on WTMD. I was touched by it. And I could guess at the situation she was singing about.
I can get behind:
"All I really really want our love to do
Is to bring out the best in me and in you"
and
"I want to have fun, I want to shine like the sun
I want to be the one that you want to see
I want to knit you a sweater
Want to write you a love letter
I want to make you feel better
I want to make you feel free"
So apparently I like Joni Mitchell. I downloaded Miles of Aisles and am acquiring even more of a taste for her. I only like small sips of her so far and I still roll my eyes at the old hussy when she warbles too much, but we're getting on.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Things that suck so hard they rock. Or rock so hard they suck? Either way, I love this:
God made Christmas Eve, not Christmas Steve.
from
https://twitter.com/shawnpearlman/status/1077023324
old timey
taking a nostalgic turn around the internet today, i came upon some clips of pinky and the brain and other animaniacs awesomeness. it held up well and is still just as funny as i remember. how often does that happen? click "read more" to watch for yourself:
part 2, if you're interested
and also this piece of special involving alex trebek, who earns every bit of the mocking he receives:
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