Hello Nurse!

Not long ago I was more or less reviewing the offerings of Gonzaga University, where you can get a Masters degree online. In that post I mentioned my recent trip to the dentist as my wife’s chauffeur, and a colorful individual I met in the waiting room.

Maybe met was not the right word. This dude was a maniac of extrovertedness. He was loud and brash and…I think the correct word might be garrulous. He was seriously off the wall. He flirted equally with the middle aged receptionist (you don’t drink, you’re not 21 yet, no way) and my 4 months old daughter (oh my god she’s so beautiful). He was 19 and allegedly attending nursing school. He has a 1 year old son with his ex-girlfriend. “Yup,” he said hitching up his crotch-at-the-knees jeans, “responsibility.”

It reminded me of the Rugrats movie when baby Dil was born and little Tommy learned all about “responsitility” from his Dad. Then he used the pocket watch as a compass to get home in the Reptar carriage/wagon…but that’s neither here nor there.

The point was, there was this crazy insane dude in the waiting room at the dentist, and as crazy insane dudes are wont to do, he gravitated toward me. I am somehow a crazy insane dude magnet. Trust me, I have stories lots of them. Like the Vietnam vet who was going to the Peekskill VA when I was in high school who sat with me and Adam and told us, among other things, about mashing a man’s eyeball on his forehead. Or Billy, the verbose traveller who borrowed the bike from the “home” and pedalled his way into the picnic that was my first date with my future wife. Just two of the many, I assure you.

Anyway, I keep thinking about the crazy insane dude and how he chattered on and on to me while he was supposed to be filling out his first-time patient paperwork. Honestly, at the rate he progressed, he is probably still writing. The thing is, he kept speaking about attending nursing school, and while his seemed to be an admirable goal, I have to say I just don’t see it. I don’t want to shoot crazy insane dude down, I don’t want to stereotype him as unfit for a career in the healing arts, but…well…

I guess there is also a fundamental difference between crazy insane dude and the people who pursue advanced degrees. Then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the Gonzaga program would be just what the doctor ordered (hee hee, that’s funny because doctors often instruct nurses what to do…I mean, “order” may be a little un-P.C. or whatever, but, well, it’s a funny, just deal with it) for crazy insane dude. Maybe the chance to get an advanced nursing degree from a top ranked school on his own schedule would be just what he needed. Ad in the process he wouldn’t be able to drive other students nuts with his crazy insane verbosity.

I don’t know. In the end, people in healthcare need access to the  best, brightest, and most cutting edge, and if the flexibility of distance learning works for people with extensive other responsibilities (or even responsitilities) then I say rock on!

Thug Life

I just saw Monsters vs. Aliens (very cute) and hearing Seth Rogen as the voice of B.O.B. I had a few thoughts. First, combining this aural experience with a recent viewing of Horton Hears a Who, in which he does another voice, I have decided that, in my opinion, Seth Rogen should not do voices in animated films. I don’t know exactly why, but the voice just doesn’t sit in the mix. In Horton he is a tiny chipmunk-ish creature that scampers around maniacally and in Monsters he is a huge blob that squirms around. Neither works for me.

And while we’re on the topic, Mr. Rogen should probably avoid the pseudo art-house cinema scene for awhile because Observe abd Report was awful. I know it was really the fault of wannabe auteur  Jody Hill in combination with the bad taste of an audience that confuses shock value tastelessness for entertainment, but still. The movie was just a disappointment.

I don’t want you to think I’m a hater. I actually like Seth Rogen. I just think he belongs in movies about smoking pot, working crappy retail jobs, playing PS3 on a pizza stained couch and overdeveloping his jew-fro.

Come on Seth, how about Pineapple Express 2?

Higher Ed

I came across another school with Online master degrees. This one is Gonzaga University, and I had to pay a little attention since it is a Jesuit institution. After all, those wacky Jesuits did good by me in High School. Gonzaga University is actually a highly rated US News and World Reports school, so I was kind of surprised to discover they had an online degree program. I mean, there are quite a few schools that are either online-only or…well, should be since they lack any substantial facilities and actual full-time faculty.

It seems that Graduate schools with more competitive reputations have shied away from the online game, as though distance learning diminishes the education. Gonzaga University is taking a different view, however, offering their well-respected curriculum to people who otherwise might not be able to attend an advanced degree program. Think business professionals and parents…free time is like an imaginary friend.

The Gonzaga offerings seem to be limited to leadership programs and Nursing degrees, I don’t know if that can be expanded. But nursing remains a hot profession in great need of more warm bodies, so this could be a great – perhaps the only way – for some people to get an advanced degree while raising kids and/or working another job.

And believe me, we needs nurses. Mars needs women, Earth needs nurses. Just ask the freaky dude I met in the dentist’s lobby waiting for Carol last week. Dude was off the wall. I think he actually might have been from Mars. But that’s a whole other story. 

And that’s the tooth…

A few months ago I went to the dentist for the first time in way too many years. It wasn’t entirely my fault. My dentist since childhood just happened to…well, he died a few years ago. So when I finally got my act together and found a new dentist this year, I wasn’t surprised that I had a few issues. And boy, the technology of the operation had changed.

I used to get covered in a lead blanket with a weird soda bottle-ish thing pointed at my cheek while the dentist left the room. I stared at a lava lamp and spit in a tiny cracked bowl. This time they put me in a machine that resembled Robocop armor and mechanical stuff encircled my body. I watched direct TV and spit into a funnel on a super straw that only sucked when I wanted it to suck. This was a device that could entirely do away with urinals in the next few years.

My biggest take away from my dental experiences in this past year had to do with flossing. I used to floss every once in awhile. Usually after a big steak. Only when I really felt the need. Whenever I flossed my gums would bleed. I thought this was normal. Now, after being told repeatedly to floss by two dentists, a hygienist, multiple techs and the two women who take your money, I got the point. I have been flossing almost every day for months and I can’t remember the last time my gums bled.

I have also been flossing the kids regularly, and since it’s tough to get a handful of string into a 4 or 7 year old mouth, I have been using those flossing sticks. They are one time use, with about 3/4 inch of floss on a sort of plastic slingshot. I’m not a big fan of the waste, but considering the importance of flossing I figure it is a necessary evil.

Now I’ve received some of these Dentek fun flossers for review. They are the hot new thing. They are colorful and have easier to grip handles than the traditional picks. They are also supposed to have fruit flavored floss, but after several tests with Jake, this promise does not seem to deliver. Still, if you want to kick up kids floss, this is the way to do it. Colorful flossers with handles that speak of independent personal oral hygiene…how can you go wrong.

We had so much fun trying out these new flossers in the last few days, in fact, that Jake wanted to make his own video review. He hammed it up a little, but we all had fun. Enjoy it here.

Mullet Genetics

So I’m in the grocery store, cruising the aisles when I crossed paths with an interesting pair. Pair of what…that’s another story.

It appeared to be mother and daughter. Mother appeared to be in her sixties, daughter in her late thirties or forties. Both were on the heavy set and – how shall I put this delicately – a bit on the plain side. No, wait, that’s too delicate, they were butt ugly and in need of diet pills…fast. But there were two real take aways from this encounter, and the Mother’spoorly fitting false teeth were not one of them.

First, the daughter was sporting a mullet the likes of which I have not seen since that Lita Ford/Poison concert circa ’88. The tail went down to her lower back, like it was aspiring to be Crystal Gayle’s do, and she had severe bangs in front. This was a terrifying look. Really.

Then, I read the text on the Mother’s dingy, ketchup stained sweatshirt. It read “My grandkids are cuter than your grandkids.”

Now, I don’t have grandkids, but if I did I would really have to take issue with this. I mean, presumably this woman is a Grandmother to the children of the mullet princess she was shopping with. And if that is the case…damn.

Just…

Damn.

These were some seriously visually challenged people. My eyeballs actually ached from the encounter, and other than taking a quick read of the sweatshirt, I barely looked. Most of my take away came from a peripheral glance to assess the scope of the mullet. Can you imagine if I’d made eye contact? My face my have done the wax melt thing that happened to the bad guys in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Nazis look into the ark of the Covenant and their faces melt off. Non-Nazis look into the eyes of the mullet princess and…well what else do you expect to happen?

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m misjudging something here. There are always those magazines features about the plain Jane parents of supermodels. Maybe the mullet birthed children of normal visage. Maybe looking at her children won’t make your face melt. Maybe they even have reasonable hair styles.

And anyway, didn’t I read somewhere that mullets skip a generation?

Autumn

There is a delightful chill in the air. My favorite season is upon us. T-shirt and jeans weather. Foliage watching a picnic-having weather. Pleasant breezes blowing through tree branches. Cool evenings with cuddle-friendly overnight temperatures.

And horse crossing signs everywhere.

Seriously, the Manhattanites were up here in droves this past weekend. Route 9G had cones out with traffic stops manned by typically diminutive state troopers with their Mountie hats and Napoleonic bearings. Love to see those tax dollars at work, running an ersatz protection detail for the progeny of the elite, blowing Wall Street bailout money on riding lessons, breeches and stable rentals.

One of the Little League parents I befriended calls the weekenders “City-ots” as in idiots from the city. Interestingly enough, I used this term frequently a few years ago when one of my clients was Citibank…but I digress.

Honestly, I don’t mind the weekenders too much. They do flood Stop & Shop with doe-eyed cluelessness, but their patronage surely helps keep that satellite Dunkin’ Donuts in the black, and as long as the D&D is rockin’ out, I don’t have to worry about the black smoky stink of Starbucks rolling in.

Anyway, the city-ots remind me of a minority of students from my college days, the privileged, douche-nozzle legacies that were confused when I, the salad bar guy from the dining hall, showed up in New German Cinema.

She: Are you auditing this class?
Me: [confused expression]
She: You don’t, like, go here, do you?
Me: Um, actually I do.
She: But you work in the dining hall, right?

Plus, I did go to High School in NYC, and then worked there for a number of years, so the coiffed nouveau yuppies are a pretty familiar breed.

And man, it is a pisser to see their faces when they see signs for a turkey shoot.