Just a thought

When you go to your doctors office, please check to make sure your fly is up.

If you find it difficult to check this particular bit of clothing, make sure you have another article of clothing on: underwear. Be it boxers, be it briefs, be it thongs, even. Just wear them.

If you neglect to do both things I've mentioned, I will be forced to view a part of your anatomy that I never signed on to view. And, sir, honestly, of all the patients I have, yours is not high on my list to willingly see.

Yeah, this sums up how my life at work has been recently.

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I'm a little bitchy like that.

I'm fortunate enough in my life to have a few super close friends who have enriched my life in numerous ways. By enriched I mean hair care tips, celebrity bashing and the general boosting of this Princesse's ego.

One of said friends just adores watching "who da baby's daddy" shows like Maury & Judge Hatchett. He revels in the absurdity and dramatic actions. He is, needless to say, slightly fucked up. That is proper medical terminology, please use with caution. :-)

In addition to this unusual addiction of his, he has taken co-dependent me down with him and even calls to update me on the status of these shows. 

I say all this, to get to the point of my bitchy nature. I find it disturbing on more levels than I can explain that people embarrass themselves on national television because their sex life is not only discernment free, but also because they are lacking the common sense to take protective measures. 

Judgmental? Yes, very. However, mixed in with my blatant disdain is also concern. It's just as easy to get a STD as it is to get pregnant when you are not using protection and having multiple partners in a short period of time. Speaking from a purely professional standpoint, there are serious concerns attached to this behavior. Even the so-called "mild" STDs deserve serious consideration because people who have certain autoimmune or immunocompromised diseases can have fatal results from what is typically a minor annoyance.

I've been off work a week, forgive my medical indulgences. My brain is going through withdrawal from not being in my normal environment for ten days.


It's the most wonderful time of the year

This is the time of year when those butterflies start swirling in my stomach. When nothing in the world could possibly upset me. When no matter what the thermometer says, the air feels like autumn.

The NFL Regular Season Schedule was released today.

It's almost pigskin time, baby.

Is there anything in the world that could upset me on this, most wondrous day?

Oh, and just because this day wasn't beautiful enough, my Duke boys got cleared. Don't get me started on what total bullshit the charges were to start with. It's all over now, fellas, congrats.

The Doctor Is In (Five Cents Per Consultation)

Kudos to anyone to can accurately state the inspiration for the title of this post.

I have been getting hit up for my "expert advice" as of lately from the group of weirdos disguised as my friends. Really, what part of insane don't they understand? The mere fact they approach me for my counsel leads me into a long mental diatribe of what qualifies someone to give an opinion on personal matters. I, of course, mean qualifications outside that of professionals who have all the proper letters after their names. But that's another ramble for another time. :-)

The most recent plea came from a very sweet, innocent female friend of mine who asked, "How do I date?"

No, I am not exaggerating, those were her exact words. 

Upon further prodding, I realized that she basically wanted to know how to play the game. Yes, dating is a game, I, however, don't play it. I detest people who play games and screw around. Be upfront and honest. If you want NSA sex, say so. If you want love, marriage and a baby carriage, say so. The majority of my friends are my age or older and, frankly, we are all above the maturity level of high school dating game players, so don't put on a show.

After that nice little tirade was done, said adorable friend came back with an immediate, "But! But! You've dated a ton more guys than I have! You're the experienced one here! I need more information!" Her voice was at shriek level by the end of this statement, so precious.

Girls, being this desperate to find out how to "play" a guy correctly translates into your behavior and eventually, your relationship. Unless a girl is looking for a stalker-esque "dream guy", he isn't going to get hot and bothered by the distinct odor of clock (the biological one, not the adorable pewter one on my bookcase). 

My best advice on how to play the game is to not play the game. Have a life. Go on a cruise with your girlfriends, take a Yoga class, hell, take a belly dancing class, you will look hot and provide a future lover with hours upon hours of entertainment. As I have said before, you can't give someone your life if you don't have a life. When you are eighty, you can be sitting beside that guy you've been married to for fifty years, and tell him about some of the fun you've had, instead of lamenting to your cats about the love that never was.

Oh, and don't stress about being thirty and still single. It will lower your self esteem and be an immediate turn off to any prospective suitors.

In other news: Can someone please alert the atmosphere it is April? I think it's confused with November and this Princesse is freezing her booty off.


The bitch known as a literary snob

A lot of times when I tell people that I am a self-proclaimed "literary snob" I get one of two reactions:

  • "Ohmigawd so am I!" Darling, using the phrase 'ohmigawd' will immediately negate any possibility of you being a literary snob
  • "Whaaa?" Usually followed by a very confused expression

I can't fully explain it, but good writing is something you know when you read it. There are many "rules" when it comes to writing, both creatively and grammatically speaking. Yes the "rules" are important, but the flow of the story and the imagination involved, the voice of the author, if you will, are very important as well. See, I am not a total "stick up her ass" bitch.

While I allow leeway for voice, I am still strict about some rules. Sloppy writing irritates me. Laziness irritates me. And choppy sentences like the two previous ones I wrote irritate me. 

Most of all, a common error I come across in books, movies and television is the readers'/viewers' credibility being stretched. Soap operas are the epitome of this with their magically resurrected characters and alien abducted heroines. Don't make it hard for me to believe your storyline. And don't make me call your bullshit every ten minutes.

So when I say I am a literary snob, I am simply saying I set high standards for today's writers. And, unfortunately, I am frequently let down by many who are currently on the NYT bestsellers' list.


Not so cute anymore

You know how puppies and kittens are so adorable, precious and lovable when they are puppies and kittens, but then the aging process occurs and then... eh, not so much. Predictably, same deal with kids. Great as babies and toddlers, huge PITAs as teenagers (FTR, have been so ambivalent about the thought of having children because one day they will be teenagers. And then I will have to drown myself).

Things in our lives can follow a similar path.

The first time a friend called me at 3:00am sobbing, I thought, "How nice to be so needed!" As time wore on and more of my friends realized I actually do answer the middle of the night phone calls all the others in our group avoid like the plague, numerous drunk dials ensued. 

I've always laughed them off as just another facet of the screwed up personalities of my friends... until recently.

Thursday, Saturday and Sunday nights all included drunk dials from various friends. Last night entailed a sobbing plea for advice from a friend in a bad relationship. My advice giving abilities are not really at their prime at 2:37am.

My iron has been running low lately, adding a disruption to my sleep pattern into that really screws me up. I have been so lethargic and unmotivated today. My primary goal has been to sleep, very much unlike me.

How does a girl who displays tendencies that are remarkably doormat like, tell them that drunk dials and emotionally fueled sob-fests have lost their cuteness?

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Kissing 115 away

At least I will be if I keep this up!

My current weight is 115lbs. Wait, wait, let me rephrase that, before this weekend began, my weight was 115. I haven't weighed myself since Thursday... with good reason.

After a hellish Friday at work, I went out with some friends for alcohol and appetizers. Guess which one I consumed more of?

Saturday I was very irate with a friend (couldn't tell by the bitchy post, could ya?) and so I took my aggressions out in the two most logical formats: cooking and cleaning. I had done some serious cleaning on Thursday, so outside of a few minor things, I couldn't clean much. Which leaves me with cooking. Two dozen mini Boston creme pies, two dozen chocolate-hazelnut raviolis, a batch of corn tortellini, french onion soup, a loaf of Italian herb bread and thirty mini chicken pitas later, I am thinking I need to find a new outlet for my anger and frustration or I will wind up weighing 5,000lbs.

Just an aside: I wound up "gifting" most of the food to various friends. Yes, I bribe people into being my friends by feeding them copious amounts of comfort food


Riddle me this, Batman

When men achieve various sexual exploits, they are congratulated, slapped on the ass by their peers and high-fived. When women do so in any fashion other than complete discretion, when they voice that they like, nay, love having sex, they are sluts, whores, wanton trash.

How does that figure?

Let's just be real here, I'm no virgin. I've had a one night stand (yes, singular, and it was not the best move on my part. Did somebody say psycho?). I have been in long term and short term sexual relationships. Granted, I know many people who have higher numbers than I, but I can hold my own for my age. I wasn't twelve when I lost my virginity, but I wasn't twenty either. I love sex, have a high sex drive (far outdistancing that of some of my previous partners) and make no apologies about either.

Of course, I am a nurse. I am not stupid. I take multiple precautions: condoms with spermicide, birth control pills and testing with partners before going into a long term relationship with them. I have two unmarried, financially irresponsible, very young, very immature family members currently knocked up, I know better.

After an in depth discussion with a friend, I found myself irate at the fact that when I voice said desires, or lust openly after certain celebrities, I am cursed with labels. When a man does the exact same thing, he is given accolades.

Exactly how does a penis change that?

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A glimpse into my sense of humor

Or lack thereof, you decide.

Today, despite the fact it was a horrible, awful, no good, very bad day, I had the chance to really talk to some of my patients, which is something I love to do. It helps their ire if I can charm them or make them laugh. As I was looking over a patient's chart, seeing what the orders from the big guy were for her current visit and chatting amicably with her, this is the conversation that ensued. 

Patient: "How can you read that? It looks like a bunch of scribbles!"

Belle: "Because I minored in archeology."

Patient: "Excuse me? I thought you were a nurse..."

Belle: "I am, but knowing I work for Dr. McDreamy I chose archeology as a minor so I could decipher his hieroglyphics."

See, my patient's love me if only for my dorky sense of humor.