Category Archives: Bitches Be Trinppin’

Oh I did it now

I reported to the Hospital around the same time Covid did. Since then, I have been the department Trainer as well as the shift manager. I work overnight, the only one in management is me. Shit goes sideways – it’s me that catches it before it hits the fan. I really enjoy my job, for the most part. I am sent in for tough patients (read: dementia, suicides, and just plain assholes). I respond to codes. I work with ICU and Trauma all night. My staff is pretty amazing and the people I work with are a different breed. Pretty proud to know them. Especially my House Sup (Read: God. She runs the hospital). I only hope to be like her when I grow up.

This week, I wrote my resignation. My intention was to hand it in and give notice in about a week. See, I love my job, but two members of upper management in my department are complete shit, homophobic garbage humans. Since I cannot be pressured and manipulated, and because I have morals I’m not of much use to them. The Hospital loves me and I nail my job every day, but because I will not intimidated and don’t tolerate abuse these two individuals and I have uh, we will say – have butted heads (read: I nuked and they got smacked by their management for their treatment of me which only expanded the target on my back). Up until now they didn’t effect me much. That all changed the min my Supervisor told me he was stepping down and one of the other Supervisors (described above) is who I’s be reporting to, permanently. I laughed in response. Nope. That’s not going to happen. I don’t need this job, and def don’t need to deal with a nefarious wanker with a god complex. My exact words to my Supervisor were: “I will shit in my hands and clap while singing the Song That Never Ends, naked in the Atrium before THAT happens.”

With that being said, I reported to the ICU last night as part of a responding team, like I do every night. The Charge Nurse (Head of the floor) said something to the effect of “I don’t know why you don’t just come work for the ICU” (I get this a lot for several different units, I just have never moved on it). I just laughed and said “You aren’t hiring, I looked” and kept working thinking nothing of it. She rounded on me, told me she wanted me in the ICU and marched my ass to her Director’s office. I didn’t even have a choice at that point. LOL. Thank the stars she wasn’t there. I was a sweaty gross mess. I had just responded to a stroke and 4 ICU patients, I was in no shape to be meeting any Director. Charge told me she would call me as soon as she returned. I thanked her and headed back towards my office still pretty stunned at what just happened.

On my way back to my office I stopped by House Supervisor. I consider her a friend and wanted her opinion. I asked her what she thought. The turn over rate in the ICU is high and I wanted to know if it was because of burn out, or because they treat their staff like crap. She told me what I figured she’d say. Our convo was cut short by a phone call so I made my way back to my office. About 20 mins later House Sup called me to tell me I had a meeting with the Director the next day (tonight). LOL. I swear I have no control of this thing. Hahaha. So, I’ve done it now, and I didn’t even mean to.

I have no idea what is happening. hahah.

Catriona

XOXOX

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Let me read you this book…

Of course my kid would choose and get accepted to a private college, out of state.

Offfffff course it would cost 40k a year. Of course. Even with the college fund and my savings – it’s a four year program. sigh (that’s after the massive scholarship).

Maybe I should learn to make penis socks.

Stand on the corner maybe? I think I’m too old to get on the pole.

I never asked my kid’s bio father for child support. Man am I kicking myself now. Kidding. Fucking that.

Even if I kick the bucket right now, my life insurance would only cover two years of school. LOL

What if I start an OnlyFans of me sitting in the backyard reading aloud nineteenth-century literature? Because really I feel like that’s all I am capable of.

To the back yard I go!

Catriona

XOXOXO

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Little blue bag of feelings

Grief is a weird thing. It looks different on everyone.

Recently, I lost a friend from work. She was an amazing human. Always had an answer and a smile. She was always helpful. Even when the pandemic made it hard to be.

I took it pretty hard. My better half must have known. Came home with a pretty blue bag filled with “The stages of grief”. It was literally a bag of pastries. Each one names after a stage. I laughed so hard.

I ate “Anger” for dinner that night, funny enough.

“Depression” was amazing. But, “Bargaining” , “Bargaining” couldn’t have been any better.

I guess what I am trying to say is get yourself a partner that will bring you a little blue bag of feelings when you’re sad. Hahahah.

Catriona

XOXOXOX

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WRONG TURN!

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm

I. Um. Well.

That moment you go read the blog of someone who liked your post, only to find that they, um. They must not be familiar with your blog. Like, this person must have just been randomly clicking to drum up their views because I can assure you from their page…..uh, they um. Would not like me. LMAO.

I clicked on their page and immediately was like “OOOOhhhhh I have taken a wrong turn. WRONG TURN!” lololol and then I thought “What the hell are YOU doing on my page?” Hahahah.

But, for the record all are safe here.

Well. I mean. If you are a pedo or a racist you aren’t, but everyone else for the most part. LOLOL.

So just as a reminder: #BLM #LoveIsLove #DontBeAnAssHole

Catriona

XOXOXO

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My Tea Cup Is Pissing Me Off

I’m killing time at Whole Foods. Spoiler Alert: I do not look like I belong here. lol

I have to go to the pet store annnnnnd it doesn’t open until 9am. My Poptart needs worms.

I am trying to be good and didn’t get coffee. I grabbed some Peach Ginger Pear Tea Weirdness and am sitting here trying to be patient. BUT MY TEA IS PISSING ME OFF. The bags have these cute little leafs instead of squares. BUT THEY ARE DRIPPING.

MY FUCKING LEAFS ARE DRIPPPPPPINGGGGGGG.

DRIPPPPPPPPPPINGGGGGGG

My stars, that picture is huge. Eh Screw it.

I guess I am off to get worms.

Catriona

XOXOXO

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Accidental Botox

If you have ever wondered what I would look like with actual botox: it’s not good. I got a sneak peak this week after having the pleasure of a root canal. They had to hit me so many times with numbing meds, they blew up my lip and face. It was hysterically awful. I then sauntered over to work. Couldn’t talk well, completely numb up to my eyebrow, it was a good time. One I will have the pleasure of enduring again in about a week as they couldn’t complete the procedure because the tooth was so jacked up. How do people do this more than once? Hell to the no thank you.

In other news snap chat has an amazing filter you should all try and then show me:

Go on. Don’t be shy.

Welp, that’s all I got. I don’t know what to do with myself now that I’m not a good candidate for botox. What ever shall I do? Lol

Catriona

Xoxoxo

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Bathroom Explosion

I wrote this in September 2017 right after we were rocked by a Hurricane. Something I’m sure I will share, eventually.
Don’t run away! It’s not that kind. Wrong end, really.
I took a walk the other night to get catfood after the storm. Wal-Mart is a scary place after a certain time. It’s also more quiet. Something I rather enjoy if I’ve got to brave Wal-Mart.
I grabbed the catfood and sorta just browsed. I came to the Bathroom linens and accessories. In my head I said “Oh, ok well while I’m here maybe I will look at what colors I’d like the new bathroom to be.” and then, it was all down hill from there.
“Oh, look at that color. That’s pretty. I really like that. Oh, but it reminds me of the time we (my wife and I) painted the master bathroom that color. Nope.”

I moved on.
“Oh, this is a nice red. I could get.. No, that reminds me of the master bathroom again.”

I moved on.
“OH black and white. That would be easy! I have all the… Annnnd that reminds me of when we had zebra print in the bathroom… And that one rouge zebra towel I could never get rid of.

I moved on.
“Fuck Purple.”

I moved on.
“Grey is pretty. Two shades of grey and maybe.. Nope. Fuck. That reminds me of my master bathroom. It was Dark grey, as were the towles at one point. Fuck.”

I moved on.
“Coral! That doesn’t remind me of anything!… Except. How ugly coral is. Damnit.”

I moved on.
“This is starting to get ridic….Orange! Orange. It’s not the most calming of colors… But I can deal with that. Throw some abstract Art up and… Crap. And it reminds me of the Cocopelli theme we once had in the master bathroom.”

I moved on.
“That’s ugly. Nope. Nope. Fuck pink. Nope. That’s ugly too. NOPE NOT THAT ONE EITHER. WHY DID WE CHANGE OUR BATHROOM THEME SO OFTEN?! WHO DOES THAT?! I’M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DECORATE MY BATHROOM EVER AGIAIN!” annnnd I burst into tears. At Wal-Mart. At 12am. At 12am I became a Person of Wal-Mart. Fuuuuuuckkkkkk.
In my defense, I hadn’t slept in days due to the storm. I’d been up well over 48 hours and eaten very little (and, really now that I think of it… We did change the color and theme of the bathroom frequently.. Lmao)
So I’m leaning against the shelf, catfood in hand, in tears…. And suddenly the realization that I’m CRYING IN WAL-MART ABOUT MY BATHROOM DECOR hits me. I start to laugh out loud, hysterically. Like, crazy laugh. I know you know what I mean. Then I realize anyone watching just watched me go from crying to laughing like an idiot. I laugh even harder because I’m now a Person of Wal-Mart. Bahahahahahah.
I finally got my shit together and left the aisel… Not before looking over to see 3 young guys staring….. Yep, I’m the seemingly crazy Cat Lady at Wal-Mart. Yep, that’s now me. Great.
I continued to laugh like a hyena to the cash register. Fuck it.

I didn’t finish this… But, do I really need to?

Catriona

Oxoxoxo

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Guacamole Cops

So, I’m in the car, right, and I’m talking and blah blah blah, and alllll of a sudden I have the urge to look down. So, I do (duh). What do I see? A weird ass grease spot looking at me. 

The HellllllLLLL is THAT? I wasn’t eating, we had been in the car for about an hour. No drinks, nothing leaked. Nothing.  Where the hell this thing came from, I have no idea. 

So I named it “Amy”. 

Amy didn’t appreciate how long we were in the car. She didn’t like the lack of coffee that was going on. She had a real issue with little guys in big trucks with ball sacks hanging off the back. She had a lotttttt to say about those… She was super mouthy. Like,  for real. She was a real thorn in the driver’s side. She had this accent that no one could figure out, and she swore like a trucker. 

It got to the point that I had to ask her to leave. She refused. I threatened. I tried to physically remove Amy, but my attempts were thwarted. 

Finally, I stuck an oversided Bambi sticker over her face (regrettablely, I didn’t get a photo) and we went about our day. Worked like a charm! Remind me to get more of those. 

I’d forgotten all about her until later when I went to do the laundry. There she was, glaring at me, the Bitch. So I shoved her ass into the washer (not before assaulting her with some heavy duty Amy Remover), annnnd I haven’t heard from her since. Now granted, I’ve been too lazy to go back into the laundry room… Bitch better be gone by the time I walk back in there! 

In an unrelated note: guacamole chips (auto correct wanted me to say “Guacamole Cops“, the helllll is THAT?), are addicting and I’m currently looking for a support group. Anyone have any suggestions? 

Catriona

XOXOXOXO

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Catriona in the cow fieldĀ 

My better half had this weird thing with winning me cows from various fairs, machines, and weird game stands. I don’t even know how it started. Lol. We had two particular stuffed cows that were my favorite Henfers. (Better Half named all cows “Hefner”, it was hilarious). One was obnoxiously large and round. The other was so tiny, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. Both Hefners lived on our bed for years. 

Unfortunately, I only have one Hefner left. The small one. It’s now locked in a box I had made for my son….I will go into that another time… 

Every cow I received had this goofy friggen look on its face. The kind you could be Earth-Shatteringly-Angry, and still couldn’t keep a straight face if you saw one of these things. So, as you can imagine I can’t see a cow, even a real cow, without laughing like an idiot. Every. Damn. Time. It’s made worse if the cow desides to throw a “Moo” at me. I can’t see a cow, or hear a cow, without smiling like an idiot. 

Annnnnddddd then there’s the part where I live close to cows pastures.  I can’t really go anywhere without seeing a cow. It’s a bit obnoxious, really. Even my son has started to notice. We’ve been taking long walks lately, and just sort of exploring. Recently he looked up and said “MOM! Hefner got huge!”.  I laughed, the cows started Mooing, we laughed more… I had to eventually pull us away. Which really proved hard, as their were cow fields on both sides of us for a good twenty minutes. Anyone passing us by would have thought we were nuts. 

It’s been over a year since she died. Yeah guys; I said she. 

The thing about me coming back to writing is that while I was away… We will say “someone”…  decided that stalking me on the internet, cloning my media sites, posting fake nudes… Yeah, you read that right…. Throwing all of my private information (including the town I live in, my son’s name and nick names, my business information, including this blog) out in the open while at the same time harassing anyone and everyone they could. The idea was to ruin my reputation. The idea was  to pop the safe little bubble I had created to protect my son and myself from the internet… Because parenting, and privacy… However it didn’t work. Those who knew me laughed and kept on truckin’. Those who didn’t know me, sort of shook their heads in disgust,  but came back to me with questions.. Concerns.. Because what was posted and said was so bizarre. In the end none of it matters other than I no longer have the privacy I once had, and really at this point: fuck it. LMAO

 You see, if you have been following me regularly I generally use gender neutral pronouns for my better half. Was I ashamed, you ask? Hell no! I didn’t want readers to get stuck on WORDS. I didn’t want it to be even more obvious of who I was. Lol. I skimmed over things that would easily identify me. But, “someone” has made it so that it is easily tracible to who I am. So, from now on, it’s going to be all out in the open… Watch out internet, BECAUSE NOW I REALLY HAVE NO FILTER! LMAO

So, join me on this new journey of letting it all hang out… And finally knitting some penis socks. 

Catriona 

XOXOXOXOX

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Hold on to your trousers; I’m BACK!

After almost a year long hiatus, I’m BACK!

 

guess-whos-back_o_164428

You guys don’t know how much I have missed you. Without you I have had no place for my useless rambling to go! HA. Except at those in my direct vicinity. Heh. You’errrrrr Welcome, guys….

While I have stumbled back in the door here like some drunkin’ Salor,  HhhheeeeyyyyyYYYYYYY, I’ve also revived my twitter. So, STALK ME. 

HOW ARE YOU ALL? TELL ME! TELL ME! TELL MMMMEEEEE!

Just a quick update – Don’t worry. I will be Bach.

Catriona

XOXOXO

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