Network

I think for once I do not have anything snarky and cynical to say for once. What is this world coming to? I mean of course I could go on a rant about politics but they are bloody morons and it would be a waste of time to say anything more. Either way the country is going to continued to be screwed up.

Oddly, it seems to have numerous parallels to the dreams I have been having which is just disturbing. Dreams like mine should never seem possible.

Will be heading out to Texas this weekend.

And my new hair cut is stupid though I suppose that's what I get for being cheap. Ugh.


((OOC:Still on hiatus! Stopped in a place that has internet for the night so I'm taking advantage.))

I don't feel bad or even that worried. She's going to be found and once she is she's going to be okay and then she'll proceed to soak up all the attention while maintaining that I remain a selfish brat.

But completely not related because it'd be a disaster if it was both of us alone...

I need a running buddy. Someone who is loud enough I'll be able to hear them if they're on the wrong side of my head and we're really going, and preferably not allergic to dogs since I'm in the process of waiting for that paperwork to go through and there'll be a service dog who'll want to come along by next spring probably.


Someone versed in other stuff besides bows and guns would be amazing too. Diversify my strengths a little, build up other areas, you know? Anybody interested in helping a guy out?

Every time I think I've gotten the best work stories ever and nothing's gonna top them, well...

I'm pretty sure we can all guess where this is going. And let me tell you, if HIPPA wasn't a thing, I'd be recording calls right now. I mean this is going above and beyond the lady's lip ring caught on her boyfriend's zipper thing on my last day in Brooklyn this winter. With that one, well, at least you could see how it happened and it wasn't people being dumbshits.

Last night though, Well. three little words actually sum that up.

Amateur. Bull. Fighting.

...Well, make that four.

Drunk. Amateur. Bull. Fighting.

Fi...forget it I'm not numbering them anymore.

Naked. Drunk. Amateur. Bull.Fighting.

In a pasture of dairy cows. As in female ones.

The only reason we got called was somebody eletroshocked themselves on some poor farmer's fence. Adding insult to injury, it's late at night, we're trying to get the guy settled on the stretched and into the unit to go back with us, and well, cow pasture of all things.

Partner goes down in a...uh...slick, I have to grab the poor asshole to keep him from sliding off and joining him, his end of the stretcher jerked so much, and, as he gets up, covered in manure, the cows start getting pissed at us for being there, and one of the braver ones starts running at us, mooing threateningly.

A moo the other cows decided to take up as they practically chased us out of the pasture back to the unit, where our patient starts demanding his 'cape' in really badly accented grade school textbook Spanish.


We're professionals. We're not supposed to laugh, but oh dear god, last night was close.


In other news, the random dream fairy has left me a present which greeted me all nicely pressed and hanging in my closet when I got in after my shift last night. I now own a world war two service uniform WITH MY NAME and it fits perfectly. I am so confused right now. When does reality set back in?

New Canton-ites, if you're out there, I'd like you to know that you're all horrible and I hope you're someday trapped inside by zombies with nothing for entertainment save a children's DVD collection and the Best of John Denver.

No love, Sam.

So, the worst part of making bets is losing them. My cheeks have not seen unfiltered daylight since 2007. I foresee some interesting sunburns in my future.

Clearly I didn't think this wager through.