Before I head down my ranting rantiness...Happy Birthday to my adorable and wonderful nephew, Basil. No, he's not 30. But he is 2. Which, frankly, I'm not opposed to 30, but I think 2 might just be a better age.
So I'm on call. When am I not, first of all (14 days...). But secondly...today? I hate people.
I've been fighting with morons all day (the latest of which is the medicine service. Damn them! Take the patient! Take the patient!) about the disposition of the, like, three psych patients that have come into our ER.
One of whom, interestingly, is insisting on going to Other State Hospital. Which is, of course, MOVING TOMORROW! So he's gonna sit in the ER for three days. Which is probably better, because I think he might be going into the DTs. But what do I know about substance withdrawal, anyway? I'm just a psychiatrist. It's not like our patients do this ALL THE DAMN TIME. Or that they might, say LIE TO US about their alcohol use. Nahhh, our patients always tell us the complete truth.
Bastard coated bastards. With creamy bastard filling.
So yesterday, I sign into Facebook, right, because a couple of people I went to college with had friended me. And what do I see? This:
Are you kidding me?
What are they, Greek? 29?? Since when is that overdue for a man? I mean, except in my cultural circles, where of course I've been past my expiration date for yeeeears now...
Seriously. Hate. People.
Also want to back my car over my pager.
In other news...I finally went to the Petsmart yesterday, which was timely, because my poor dog had been eating bowls full of treats for the prior two days, since we ran out of food and all (she thinks we should run out of food every day, I think. She thought this was a FABULOUS idea. I? Also enjoyed it, because for Maggie, eating a bowl full of treats means that she has to sneak up, all wiggly with excitement, steal one out of the bowl, dash back to her crate, happily devour it, and then repeat the whole process. Because this is what you do with treats). So whilst at the Petsmart, I was walking past the big display of cheap toys, and wouldn't you know it, there were two she just had to have...okay, honestly? There was one I thought she'd really like, and one that I just thought was too damn hilarious not to buy.
Maggie was initially very excited about the prospect of new toys. The first one, which I bought more for her (because I think it looks sort of stupid) is this one.
The cool thing about it is, even though it's pretending to be a container of organic juice (what? What dog wants to play with one of those? What owner wants their dog playing with juice? Just sounds sticky to me, frankly), is that it makes a very crinkly noise when you play with it. Maggie likes a good deviation from "squeaky" once in a while. This one? Has crinklies AND a squeaker. WOW.
This one? This one I bought for me. Not so much to play with, as to periodically giggle at and say, "what the hell?"
Dudes. It's a chicken. A whole chicken. On a barbecue fork. WTF?
When Maggie was but a wee pup (okay, when I got her, and she was 18 mos old), she used to tear her toys up in nothing flat. Like, fifteen minutes to a half an hour, done. And then one day, the magical Stuffed Hippo showed up. She still has that hippo. In fact, it's still her favorite toy. You know, to nap on and things like that. I don't know what it was about Hippo, but suddenly all the destroyage stopped.
Now, now Maggie and her toys look more like this....
She's a good girl....