who shot who in the what now

The sun seems to be coming out, which is good because it's been miserably gray and rainy for several days now.  Yesterday, it was cold enough that we had the stuff that is not quite rain and not quite snow but can only be described as Cloud Barf.  It fell from the sky, then got carried by the wind until it was blowing in the faces of all us poor saps who have chosen Siberia as our home.  But nonetheless, the grass is green and the buds on the trees have burst open, and by my birthday, it'll be warm enough for me to sleep on the Orch.

YES.

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LBCS just got home from work with stories about coked-out-patients and their hoochie-baby-mamas.  It's times like this that I realize being an ER nurse is about fifty times more interesting than any job I will ever do.  Sure, my students will always say interesting and funny things, but it isn't likely any of them will come to school coke-addled.

"I learned one thing tonight," LBCS said.  "I don't want to be a cocaine-dealer."
"Why not?" I asked, as if this were a legitimate career choice that she was turning down in favor of grad school.
"Well, I couldn't stand to be around cokeheads.  They're crazy.  This guy was crawling up the walls."

See?  INTERESTING!  It's too bad sick people give me the heebie-jeebies.

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Speaking of birthdays... which I was before that interlude about LBCS's job... this house needs to plan a party.  Our birthdays are within two weeks of each others (mine first, then LBCS, then Pineapple) and we all have things to celebrate -- Grad School gettin' in, thesis-finishin', twenty-six turnin', you know, the usual.  And Skunkmunkie is going to Japan for a while, like a CHOAD, so it has to be before he leaves the country.  Otherwise, who will pick up ice?  I ask you that. 

Seriously.

SERIOUSLY.