Blair Witch II was a wash. I refuse to watch movies that are edited by anyone other than their makers. It's a thing. Also, I won't watch a movie if I miss even a second of the opening credits. Okay, maybe a second, or two. But yeah, no in medias res for me, I don't know. It's actually kind of a pain, because there are movies I haven't seen in years, or have never seen, and I'll be like OMZ ANIMAL HOUSE!! --oh, and have to click past. A strange variation of anal retentiveness, I think, a type of compulsive behavior. Not unlike my compulsion to yip DANCE BREAK at that part of All Day Long every. single. time. Except, yeah, maybe unlike, really. Hmm.
Random work blather:
I've decided I actually prefer working in the little oncology PCU, the post surgical dealie that was the bane of my existence for a while there. For one thing, I don't have to deal with the same group of docs, which is a big plus. Also, patients stay there maybe a week, and then they move on. This staying three months till they die thing is really starting to get to me, I must admit. Which feels like a failure on my part, but there it is. Truthfully, what I'd like to do is get a nice little job in a doctor's office. Give some outpatient chemo, send them to the hospital if necessary... yeah. Plus, no more 13 hour shifts. That's a biggie. But we'll see. No hurry.
I took care of somebody with very low levels of calcium in her blood, and oy. Every single muscle in her body went rigid, and her face went numb. Poor thing, she was freaked. Gave her some calcium... and every muscle relaxed, ahhh. Except one, in her intestines. She was post surgical, and what we mainly look for in abdominal surgery patients is for them to regain GI motility, because the guts tend to freeze up and not want to work. In extreme cases like hers, one section simply refuses to start working again, and there's nausea and barfing and unhappiness all around. As soon as her muscles unfroze and she could actually talk to me, she said, "Mary, I don't feel so good," and BLEH, all over herself and the bed and the floor. Luckily, I jumped backwards at lightspeed. But she's home now, and much happier for not having that 20 lb tumor in her belly, too.
One more month of The Way You Know Him. I can do it! I can make it. Whew. It's been killing me daily.
You know how you write porn and it's like, "tab A, slot B, sigh" because you're the author and the words lose their meanings after you've edited them ruthlessly for 147 hours? WOO. So not happening with this story. I'm digging this porn in a truly unholy way, and actually wrote well over 100 words yesterday, HA. Astounding.