WHERE is the coffee!!??

And so I've finally found some time to blog more -- its been crazy! I just realized its almost May and we dont' have a photographer yet... AND I haven't ordered the dresses yet!!! Nick let me vent to him, poor guy. I was kind of stressing. He says its just cuz I'm tired. Yeah, I'll use that excuse. It sounds better than saying I'm being completely anal retentive, a fruedian term for someone who is ah... rather uptight all the time because they hold everything in. Frued is wierd, but he had something going there... sorta. The whole "anal" part though is just kinda... creepy. Where did he get The man had issues. Perhaps he... well... who cares about Frued? I'm going to be self-centered in this blog and get back to... me!

So where (and why) do I think up this stuff, you say. I've found that lack of sleep can be blamed as a major factor in the reason why one starts to contemplate some... uh... really stupid stuff. Like last night and tonight, it was all the things I've got to get done that I haven't gotten done and that I haven't got time to get done... which makes me stress, and then I realized I was being anal, and then I was reminded about Frued. Not that I normally think like him, but I guess I thought about what the term meant, which brought me to good ol' Sigmund Frued. Who, for his part made a name for himself by being a barmey old codger*, as they say in England.

For the most part, working two jobs can be tiring, but hey, its great. I get paid today. And I got paid on Wednesday. So, two paychecks in one week. How can you beat that? Uh, by getting more sleep, you say?

Coffee helps. And I'll get used to it. Not that I'm completely bliase' about working in an assisted living facility -- Caring for people is a big responsibilty, but I like helping people. Okay -- I suppose I'll have to empty a bedpan or two; but mostly, I'll just be answering call lights for a case of insomnia or helping a sick resident while I do the night's cleaning and make the next day's meals. But its night -- and its pretty quiet.

It's a good thing I like to cook -- they didn't ask me about my cooking skills when they gave me the NOC shift. Hehehehe. Hiring someone to cook when they don't know how, that can be scary -- and dangerous, considering some friends' experiences in the kitchen. But I won't mention any names... But I think I can do an alright job when it comes to cooking -- I mean, not to brag -- I just don't think I'll burn the kitchen down. But I'm quite confident, that at any rate, I don't think they'll have to serve the residents any UFO's (Unidentifed Food Objects) after my shift.

I'll be doing battles with the refridgerator. Its this massive, industrial sized thing, and it's huge. And its on wheels. When I try to open the door, the thing just rolls towards me. I have to hold it back, and then open it. And since we had "a little extra time", according to our supervisor last night (since i was "training", there were two of us), we got to clean the fridge. Its like cleaning a cold stainless steel shower stall -- except the door kept slamming shut. The hot water instantly turned cold upon hitting the walls, but I did manage to get it cleaned right enough. I did manage to conquer it, however, and now I think I have the fridge in proper submission. Never let your appliances get the best of you, I say.

All in all, it sounds quite manageable, and even fun, when I get used to everything. I get to cook and play in the kitchen -- and get paid for it. And the people there are nice, and they like me. How cool is that?

*a barmey old codger is a crazy old man, btw. :)

Dealing with... road construction, bedpans, and the NOC shift...

I'm awake... barely. The city picked the perfect time to begin road construction. They started on Tuesday. This is ironic, because I worked all weekend, and worked both jobs on Moday; so, I was working from 7am to 11pm. What is that? Sixteen hours? I can't complain, I asked for it. But, I can complain about road construction. Exhuasted by Monday night, I fell into bed by midnight, relishing in the fact that I could SLEEP IN on Tuesday, because I only worked the one job. Right. As luck would have it (my luck anyway), I was rudely jarred awake by the road construction crew at ten to six in the morning. Loud booms rattled the windows and shook the house as the asphalt was broken up and scooped into dump trucks. I stared blearily at the clock, wondering if we were having an earthquake. Okay, so I was confused. An earthquake in Wisconsin? I realized what it was when when the bulldozer backed up, its safety backing alarm hooting like a deranged owl. Doooooot, doooooot, dooooot, dooooooooooooot... *ARGHHHHHH!!!!* I pulled my pillow over my head, but the annoying sound persisted; penetrating the pillow and viciously attacking my senses.

Now the dog was awake. Thank you very much. He doesn't want to sleep in. I take him out. He barks. I stand on the steps, waiting for him, and then realize what I look like. My eyes are red and puffy and I have those nice dark circles under them from lack of sleep, and my hair (that I haven't had time to comb yet) is still a wild mane. I go back inside. The dog barks. I give up on the dog, and go back to bed. Let him bark. No one will hear him over the construction racket anyway. I pull the pillow around my ears and try to go back to sleep.

I can't get used to the construction crew... but I am getting used to the NOC shift (noc = nocturnal). Its a pretty quiet job, mostly cooking and cleaning for the following day, and helping residents in the night with Bathroom calls, giving out meds, and making the occasional midnight snack. And charting everything, always charting. Charting, charting, charting - that's probably the biggest part of the job. Good thing I like writing...

More to come later... got to go for now. :P

Bubble and squeak

Or what the Brits commonly call leftovers. Today, I serve you the leftover remnants of my thoughts. At least the coherent ones.

Do I have any coherent thoughts? I think my brain is asleep. I should be asleep, but I'm still at work.

Today began my first day of real training at my new job; I was pretty slow today, but should become an old pro soon. I started at 7am, so had to get up at 5:30am. There should be a law against getting up that early. Whatever fool said, "early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise," should be shot. I hope that wasn't in the Bible. Meaning no disprespect to God, but if anyone else says that, they're an idiot. I think Ben Franklin wrote it. Which supports my theory entirely -- who else would fly a kite in a thunderstorm to see how electricity worked? Okay, okay, so he's the reason we have electricity today. I still hate mornings.

My new job was fine -- I arrived at my second job with just minutes to spare and found out my co-worker was in a tetchy mood. I tell God I want that I should be more patient, and what happens, but that I have to work with this person... Oy vey!

Yeah, so co-worker says to me, "Do you want to patrol the big building today?"

My feet hurt, and my back aches, and my asthma is acting up and I'm due for an inhaler (but can't get one til payday).

So I groan and say, "Not really."

She gives me a do-not-give-me-any-crap-because-I'm-not-in-the-mood kind of look, and says in a very no-nonsense voice: "WOULD you patrol the big building?"

Okay, I guess "no" is not an option. I sigh and leave the room. So I'll patrol the big building I guess. I tell myself it will really be fun.

I'm a bad liar. I get back to the main building five minutes late, even though I practically ran though the patrol of the large building. It wasn't fun, and I wonder if the band Weezer was a bunch of asthmatic kids that failed gym class. They sure had a lot of time on their hands. Which... I don't have.

Anyway... *ahem*, back to my tale... I'm sitting at the reception desk, penning my prolific thoughts on my blog, when the phone rings. It is that wonderful co-worker again. Did I mention she is NOT a supervisor, or any kind of supervisory position whatsoever?

She calls me and tells me to make sure I get to the dock BEFORE 5pm, so that the dock officer can be in the office by 5 and she (the one calling me) can start her patrols when she's "supposed to".

But, when I was about to leave, someone came by the reception desk and wanted to get chatty. By the time he left, it was, you guessed it 5pm, and she was NOT happy. She refused to speak to me for the next couple of hours.

I think she thought I was being evil and rude on purpose. HA!! Next time I will. I shall be evil and get the satisfaction of revenge. It's a much better feeling than being unjustly accused. I mean, if someone is going to think badly of you anyway, you might a well give them a reason. :P

And now, the warpath calleth again!!! And I go to face the warrior lady upstairs.

In the midst of all the chaos...

...I found time to go to church. I found, as I sat back in the service and listened, that I had peace. And I realized, no matter how crazy it got, that God would always be my rock. And that he would always be there to life me up when I fell. It was good. I felt all the cares and worries and stresses of the week fall away; it was like being away for a long time and finally coming home. I felt like I belonged there. I've been searching for so long for a church that I felt like I belonged in... and it felt like home, yesterday.

No one cared that I wore pants; even the women in the choir had pants on. No one said, "this is how you have to be if you want to be a part of this church." It was pretty cool to finally find that there really are churches that care more about people than rules. Don't get me wrong - they still care about doing what's right, but there's none of the church made standards that aren't found anywhere in the Bible that the people are expected to follow.

For years, I never felt like I belonged anywhere -- in a church; I never fit in, because I didn't fit the image. The church I visited this Sunday -- I didn't feel that way.

For those friends from the church I've been going to, don't get me wrong. It's hard to explain, because the church I've been going to - some of the people were friendly enough, and there are some people I really care about there. But its the leadership that really sets the attitude... and that is where I had felt most unwelcome.

The wildlife enthusiast's guide to a surprise encounter with the ferocious Bridezilla...

AT this time there is no documentation, as no one has ever lived to tell the tale... ahem.

Anyway, sorry guys for my outburst -- I've been stressing lately (ya think?!) and feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything, and felt the need to vent.

But I hurt a few feelings with yesterday's post, and frusterated or not, that's not what this blog is supposed to do... so i've deleted the post.

HA!!! I've probably got some of your curiosity up -- if you hadn't read it before. :P

just another manic monday

Well... it was. Now it is Saturday, and I'm recovering from a crazier than normal week.

Monday was destined to be a drag, because I didn't get home from my sisters until about 1:30 am; and, after unloading the truck and showering, it was about 2 or 2:30 am when I finally fell, exhausted, into bed. And I had to get up at 6:30am, because I had an apppointment at 8am (and I'm not a morning person).

Then I had to start training at my new job at 9am, an that lasted until 2:30. Great, right? I had plenty of time to get to my other job at 3 -- since it was right in town. Except, it was Monday, and therefore not my day. I was pulling out of the parking lot at my new job, and realized something I needed had fallen on the floor. So, I put my foot on the brake and bent down to pick up what I needed. But, apparently, my foot isn't completely on the brake.... because I felt my self go up on the curb. I forgot whatever it is that I was doing and looked up -- and I was headed straight for a tidy row of mailboxes. I slammed on the brakes, but thanks to the nice, soft grass, I slid a foot, and of course, the truck would hit the mailboxes. The mailboxes seemed to know it was a Monday, too, and they resignedly toppled over.

At this point, I was not exactly thinking cheerful thoughts. I jumped out of my truck, feeling a bit sick, wondering what to do. I stared stupidly at the mailboxes for a moment, scratching my head. The mailboxes, thankfully, looked fine, the post had just been knocked from its base. But, I had to be responsible and call the police and let them know what had happened. By the time the police officer arrived and looked at the box and decided it wasn't reportable, it was 3pm, and I would have been late for work, except I had already okayed it with my supervisor, as my class was supposed to last til 3. So... I lucked out there.

But of course, there is a lovely mailbox sized dent in the hood of my truck. It will just add fuel to those guys who look at female drivers at say, "those crazy women drivers!!!"...

.

speaking of plans...

I looked at two houses on Wednesday -- one was a log style house (sweeet), and one was a little white two story wiht weeping willows in the yard. And, I looooove weeping willows. The log style house was awesome, even thought it was built in 1971 and had total 70's style to the carpts. One room had (I kid you not) totally shagadellic, purple (fluorescent!) shaaaaag, carpet in the bedroom I thought I'd walked into the loooove shack. But it's cool -- and with a bit of carpet replacement, it would be a totally awesome pad. And I can always plant weeping willows. :) Will have to talk to the realtor and tell him we want to make a tentative offer pending on the selling of Nick's house -- in August. :P Wish it could be sooner, but can't really sell house until he has visa in hand. Seems to risky otherwise.

Am already picturing how I could decorate... Would be fun, that's for sure. :)

and end in sight...

Thursday was another full day -- of class at first job from 9 - 2:30, and then other job from 3-11. I was soooooooo glad to have Friday off.
When I finally got off, I slept like a log (well, after I got home).

TGIF

And finally, Friday rolled around. It was my mom's birthday, so she went out to Norske Nook and came back with raving reviews. We're Norvegian, ya, of course she vould like da Norske Nook, ya...

Later on, I spent the evening by whipping up Mom's birthday cake and also made dinner - spaghetti and meatballs before they got home. Oh, and cheesy garlic bread. It was heaven, but alas... also cause for hearburn. One small miracle -- I had time for t.v. -- I watched "Third Watch", and of course it was a 2 part series... so I"m forced to watch next week's show - or tape it.

And the official mascot of our workplace is... Rocky the Squirrel

Yes, I'm staring at a baby squirrle that's lying in a container at work. One of my co-workers found him in the garage, and took him to work so he could keep feeding him and taking care of him. We are feeding him milk from the end of a ziplock, baggie -- it seemes to be working pretty good. He uses his little hands/paws to hold on to the bag and/or my fingers and sucks away. He has fleas though :P, so we have to be careful. My co-worker says he has some at home. My job for the weekend is to find some of my pet bottles to feed him with. :D We named him Rocky, after that squirrel on Rocky and Bullwinkle. :D

It's been a long week...

The whole famiy went on vacation this weekend to Appleton to see my sister. We took the truck, because mom's car had no Air conditioning. However, opting not to take the topper was a big mistake.... which I'll explain why later on.

We were visiting to celebrate my neice's 2nd birthday party -- at Toys 'R' US. Some of the kids my sister invited didn't show up, so we were invited to help the kids play games. Yay. One of the games involved parading around the store (to get everyone's attention on the Birthday girl) with noise makers and bright scarves. We got everyone's attention, all right. Everyone stared, but the kids loved it.

We HAD to watch Wallace and Grommit (my family had never seen show), which is a British comedy. I adore it -- its about a man and his dog, a dog who is quite clever. Of course, by the time we left for home it was about 8 or 9 pm, and it looked like rain, which posed a bit of a problem, since we had no topper...

Mom had done a bit of shopping while we were there, and her purchases fit in the back of truck well enough; except it was going to rain, so we had to put the bags in boxes and then wrap the boxes in plastic.

This method worked reasonably well -- until the wind started, and the plastic started flapping madly about. We had to stop and buy duct tape to tape the bags shut. Duct tape, again, saved the day. Hmmm... perhaps this should have been titled, "Things rednecks do..." Can you picture us? Driving in a pickup truck, trashbags (with boxes inside them) flapping madly in the wind, taped together with duct tape... we even had the dog in the truck. :P

We got home at one in the morning, and I had an 8am appt, then a class at my new job from 9 - 2:30. It was a great thrill getting up in the morning, too. Right. Ah well, had I realized it was going to be one of those Mondays, I would have stayed in bed...

(to be continued)

It's Easter... and there's snow in Green Bay...

My sister reports that its snowing where she is; I kid you not. Other than that ground-breaking news, I'm afraid I have nothing very significant to report. Easter, being a rather spectacular day to celebrate in itself, happened to fall on the weekend I worked this year, so I spend most of my holiday at work. And I'm only getting paid regular time; my workplace is proud to be 100% PC -- so in order to avoid offending the oft-times delicate sensibilities of those who do not celebrate Easter, its not considered a paid holiday.

But here I am!!! Politcally correct and thinking of the ham and brocolli bake and potatoes and cake that are at home (Mom made some fantastic honey roasted ham in my roaster, it was soooo good). I did have breakfast at church today; I had one banana flavoured pancake and an apple flavoured one, some quiche, and of course, sausage. Feeling father fat after such a meal, I went around admiring babies, talking to friends and telling people how my brother was doing (when they asked).

Of course, when I talked to Andy, he'd already read my blog; so I was saved from having to share the tale of woe.

Work was quite long today. For some reason, I'm dead tired. Well, for that matter, I know exactly why I'm tired; I've had quite a busy week. At any rate, my legs feel like jelly; I hope they function enough for me to haul my big bad self home and inside, preferably in bed - before I can't walk anymore. Hehehee... I cheated on patrols today; I used the pallet jack as a kind of impromtu scooter - I just was too tired to walk. Good thing it WAS a holiday; I suppose I might have gotten a few stares otherwise.

I think I had something interesting to write about, but my mind suddenly went blank. Ah, well... I'll write something inspriring tomrrow, then.

Happy Easter, Everybody!!!

How to lose your mind in 7 days...

Upon arriving back home from my experience on Iowan version of Loony Toons, I found out my friend's dad was in the hospital after a heart attack. He was scheduled for surgury on Friday; so, when Friday arrived (I fianally had the day off), I baked a cake, packed the dog in the truck. I had to take him with; I couldn't leave him home alone all day. So we headed off to Lacrosse, which is about two hours away. Diana came with to keep me company -- and slept the whole way there. :P Am I that boring? Hmmmmmm...

We got there, and I got the directions wrong to her uncle's house, so I got lost and had to call her cousin for directions. We finally got to the house, and I got to meet the rest of my friend's family. They all look alike; its great. With the brothers (of which she has 5), they all look like the same heads on different bodies, with different hairstyles.

Her cousin taught me (or attempted to) teach me a hunting game on the X-Box -- I did okay on the first hunt, but on the second long hunt, I kept runnning into the mountain wall, and getting stuck in the brush. then, I was attacked by a cape buffalo (game was in Africa) and it was all over for me. Sad Day. Then Diana played (she laughed herself silly watching me, and did no better.

I left Monty in the truck, because there were already two dogs in the house and later, on, we went to take him for a walk... I didn't want to find any presents in my truck. Leaving him in the truck turned out to be a good idea, as Kate's sister in law brought her dog out with her when she went to have a cigarette. What the dog was, I can't say -- it looked like a living mop. With eyes. Anyway, precious pooch went bounding up to Monty, yapping its fluffy little head off; after sniffing each other frantically, someone snarled, and the Mophead ran off, yelping. Her sister in law did not like me from that point forth.

Oh well, they didn't really associate with the rest of the family, they were busy necking on the couch most of the time. Trying to make a point, one of the cousins spoke up to my friend's brother (we'll call him Bubba).

"Hey, Bubba, has your wife eaten yet?"
"Uhhhhh... yeah... why?" Bubba looks at his wife, who is grinning vampishly at him.
"Good, because the way she was hovering over you, I thought she looked a little hungry. Was worried there when she went for your neck..."

We were at the hospital when this happened, visiting her Dad, but when we returned (and I was taking Monty for another walk), the cousin came out and gleefully told us about the circus inside.

My friend's dad was doing okay, but he kept wanting to leave the hospital. He had things to do...

And it was his birthday. What a way to spend a birthday! When someone asked what he wanted, he said he wanted a beer, a ham sandwhich, and a cigarette -- and he wanted outta the hospital!!

I think that's a good sign -- he's getting back to his old self, so must be feeling better. :)

Oh, and we had fun getting to the hospital -- Five of us (six, including the dog), went -- and packed into my truck (I have extended cab). However, the dog had flatulence, and even with the windows rolled down, we were in desparate need of fresh air by the time we got to the hospital.

I fervently hoped that we wouldn't find anything *new* in the truck when we came out of the hospital. Luckily, Monty behaved. Being that her dad was in ICU, we were only there for about half an hour.

Kate calls me family -- we're pretty good friends, and her dad likes me alot -- so she marched in there and told the nurse we were all family. Now, with my red hair and pale skin, I could pass off for one of her sisters pretty easy, but my friend Diana was blessed with a lovely dark beauty that I always envied. She's Latino, and has jet black, shiny hair, and she definately is not pale and freckled.

The nurse stared at us for a few minutes and I had a wild urge to laugh, but of course I couldn't. I always want to laugh at innapropriate times -- I think its a curse. ICU is not the best place to start laughing.

life...

I was doubly glad I wasn't laughing as we headed to the waiting room though; we passed a family that was all crying -- a young kid had been in an accident and was only just holding on. Their grief was so -- palpable -- I could feel it, just walking past them.

I knew who ever was hurt, was hurt bad, cuz even the guys were crying. It's strange; going to visit someone you care about who is alive; and passing someone in the hallway who is greiving, because someone they love is fighting to live. Its hard to walk by, knowing there's nothing you can do, except pray; You want to do something -- Anything!

It's really amazing how precious life is. And how it can be gone just like that.

I want to make the best of mine, and live it to its fullest. It's too short to have regrets.

But it was good to walk out knowing her dad was okay, yet sad; for as we left, more people walked in, grieving for a life that clung tenaciously to the edge.

Tummy troubles, anyone? This doctor can help!!!

Or -- maybe not... Apparently, a doctor is treating people who have IBS or Chron's disease (both are conditions which inflame the intestines) with worms, which they ingest in order to treat the symptoms. I kid you not.

Where are these clever doctors? In Europe... and people in Europe say Americans are stupid... *cough*

Hmmmm... I'll never be able to look at pasta quite the same again. Linguini, anybody? Muhahahahaha...

I'll leave you with that happy thought.

Cheers!!!

Split Pea Soup for the soul

It seems that unlike "Chicken soup for the soul", my stories are a far cry from the heartwarming tales that pull on your heart strings. Although, some of them may bring tears to your eyes -- tears of laughter that is.

So unlike chicken soup, which seems to be a healing food, My stories of late, can more accurately be compared with the kind of soup you like to "accidentally" spill under the table for the dog -- the kind that even the dog refuses to eat. But its healthy, so apparently, one gets some benefit out of it, even though no one likes it.

I suppose, somewhere down the road, I'll learn something from all this. And so, my life got a bit more exciting when my at-large brother calls at 1 am... on April 1st. He was in the hospital with a broken back, after deciding to leap from the roof of a two story building. Apparently, he decided that it was a good way to get away from the cops, who were persuing him. He swore up and down he wasn't high...

Arriving at the hospitital, I was given a visibly jarring reminder of why I hate drugs so much; and why everyone should, for that matter. The brother I remembered was no longer there. Painfully thin, he looked more like an AIDS patient who was dying than someone who had his whole life ahead of him. He had a weakness and a kind of bitter vulnerability that went far beyond his having a broken back. With the surgury he had, and the physical thereapy, they had him walking a day after surgury. At the hospital, he could barely get around, and moving was a painful process. So it was surprising to hear him talk about trying to run -- he wanted to escape the hospital, before the cops came for him. Like that was going to happen, we thought. I mean, how stupid can one individual be?

Apparently, there are some in the human species who are completely lacking in human intelligence. The next day, when we arrived back at the hospital to visit dear old bro, we found out that in fact, he HAD tried to escape. The police found him about a mile and half away from the hosptial, still wearing his hospital gown and robe (thank God he had the robe on, lol), attempting to go to someone's house for some money. WE used to joke that Iowa stood for Idiots Out Wandering Around... perhaps there is some truth to it. I have this wild mental picture of my brother wandering around Iowa City in a Hospital gown and robe, trying to look completely nonchalant.

When I came into room after nurse told me, I expected him to be a bit depressed and sulking over being caught, but he bragged to me about how he'd gotten so far before getting caught. IT was like seeing his old six year old self showing thru the 30 year old body.

But, if that didn't prove how absolutely stupid drugs make a person, he only had to open his mouth to confirm any hesitating suspicions. Apparently, he had pretended to undergo some great conversion while in prison -- a great way of fooling everyone and getting out of jail early. So I got to listen to him rave about God, drugs, how bad everyone else was. I frantically tried to avoid any discussion of religion, as every time he talked about God, he sounded like a complete nut. Well, he got on THAT subject, trying to convince me I was throwing my life away by marrying Nick. In his own, rather piogant way of saying things, he told me that Jesus told me to "obey the F***ing bible, and it didn't matter what I wanted". I told him it was fine coming from him, and could he mind not saying the "F" word when he was talking about what Jesus wanted? Well, he said, that I probably "thought" he was a hyprocrite, but i just didn't understand. I decided to avoid all subjects of God altogether. But of coures, when one wants to AVOID talking about somehting... it never happens. It only got better, when he was talking about "having a degree in marijuanology" -- and how there was no better feeling.

So my dad says, "Well, you don't need pot, son, you just need the joy of the Lord!!"

And my brother says, "Oh I have the joy of the Lord, I love Jesus, blah, blah, blah..."

Bless my dad's heart. He actually says, "Good, I'm glad you love God." I'm trying not to choke, and mom has a look on her face rather akin to someone's expression when someone scrapes their nails on a chalkboard.

I should add here, that he had a roommate, who was looking clearly panicked by now, and will no doubt count himself lucky if he a.) never takes drugs, and b.) never goes to church. WHY is it that its always the crazy nuts who decide to talk rather openly about religion and think they need to tell the whole world how they feel? At least he isn't claming to be Jesus or somehting bizarre like that -- yet.

I'm sure, when his roomate got discharged (which he no doubt begged to be), that he told all his friends he was in the room with a dangerous mental patient. And this is one of my family memgbers... *sigh*

Ahhhhh, split pea soup... Mom used to make it, but she put it though the blender, to make it have a smoother texture. I don't know why.... but that's what she did. Unfortunately, after she put it through the blender, it was this thick, greenish substance, that looked exactly like calf diarrhea... so needless to say, it was somewhat unappetizing to look at.

So my tale is somewhat like a cup of pea soup... it sounds funny when you hear about it, but its rather unappetizing when it all happens. AT any rate, i suppose something good came out of it -- I sure as heck won't ever take drugs.

Ciao for now...