Friday, October 14, 2011

Just an idea that struck me.

I forgot to wear my ring today. I don’t usually take it off, but I was feeling fat. So I pulled it off and placed it on the skin in the bathroom. I looked at where it typically sits. It was skinnier than the rest of my fingers. I felt better.
So I got ready for the day, forgetting to put it back on. As I was sitting in my car, driving to work, it hit me that I had forgotten to put it back on. I looked at my finger. It was no big deal. It was just a ring.
The shit was hitting the fan when I got there. My boss is crazy. She always does the worst possible thing in regards to her life. Her latest affair must have blown up in her face because she was being screamed at by her wife. I just made sure the door was shut, and sat down at my desk. I checked my e-mail. There were FIVE from her all from the time I shut to the door to the time I sat down.
I sighed to myself, and went into my bosses’ office. I got yelled at by both my boss and her wife. So, it was my fault my boss cheated? Whatever. After I got yelled out, I went back out to my desk and checked my messages. There were 2 messages for my boss from 2 different girls.
So, her work is weird. She’s the QueerFather. I know. It sounds like she works with or for the mob, but no. She’s a Jill of All Trades. She can do anything. Need a plumber? She can get one there within the hour.  Having a spat with your lover? Come spend an hour in the QueerFather’s office. You’ll be on a second honey moon when you leave. Have anything you need taken care of? The QueerFather knows what to do. Just give us a call.
I’ve never needed anything from the QueerFather, but it’s always nice to know she’s in my corner. She found me a great apartment and hasn’t raised the rent in 2 years. We have simple rules. Her and I will never sleep together and I have to keep the girlfriends away from the wife. I did tell her, if her wife comes when I’m not here and answers when the girlfriend calls, it’s not my fault. She understood.
Finally the wife must have blown off enough steam so she left. I wanted to follow. Getting yelled at by her sort of ruins my life.  I stayed though. I was just going to sit at my desk. Answer phone calls. Go home. That is what I wanted to do. That is not what happened.
The QueerFather came out to my desk. “I hate to tell you this, because you’ve been the best secretary I’ve ever had, but you’re fired.”
“You’re joking right?”
“No, I’m not. Please leave now.”
I grab my bag mutely, and put my jacket back on. I leave the office, mystified. What the fuck did I do? Then a strange thought hits me. Was it because I wasn’t wearing my ring? No, that’s just foolishness. But you bet your sweet ass as soon as I got home I put it back on vowing to never take it off.  The next morning the QueerFather did call me back and tell me I wasn’t fired. She just had to lie to her wife for a day or so. I told her I’d be back after I took a week’s vacation. She was okay with that.  

Friday, August 19, 2011

5 Crabby Thoughts

I know I write A LOT about camp on this blog, but this time I'm going to take a cue from some of the hilarious medical blogs I read and point something out. It's not really pointing something out. It's down right complaining. I know it's not camp related, get over it! Stop reading. Ok, are they gone? Good. Allow me to explain. I have a big girl job as a Medical Assistant. I like it, but there are just some things that annoy me.

1.) If you send a consult letter with only the Pt's name (TIMOTHY MCGEE) and I look it up only to find 500 TIMOTHY MCGEE's in Bumblescrew I *AM* going to file under G for garbage... Only after I call and request a second copy of it with a Pt identifier.... What is a Pt identifer? That's easy. Date of birth. Social. Address. Telephone number.... If you are snotty to me because YOUR system is broken, I will just file it under G anyways.

2.) If you call and make it to the "Leave a machine after the tone" bit, don't just hang up. Leave your name and number. Ask for a call back. How hard is it? I call my Dr, and say, "Hi, Dr Excellent, this is PoGo A GoGo. I have a question about the metformin you just prescribed me. Can one of your staff reach me at 555-POGO? Thank you."

3.) If you do leave a message, make sure you tell us how to contact you back if we should need too. "Hi, it's me! I was just making sure you got my fax. Well, bye!" WTF is that? That is a whole lot of nothing. That too will get filed under G.

4.) Do not under any circumstance call the Dr I work for by her first name. Unless you are married to her or are her mother, it should always be Dr. Wonderful. "Oh, Nancy said to just stop in." "Oh, Nancy said you could just..." As soon as I hear "NANCY" said, I stop listening. It's disrespectful! Do you call the JUDGE in court Marvin? No. You call him your honor or sir. If Dr. Wonderful is too much to say, just say "The Dr"

5.) Please  be on time. I hear you bitch now "the Dr is always late!" (For the record, Dr. Wonderful is NOT always late. She knows she has to do her big girl job too!)  Don't make me, the lowly MA suffer because the Dr is late. That is not my fault and I can not control her. I'm just saying.

I guess that it's it for now.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

It's a quarter to midnight

It's a quarter to midnight and I'm not tired. I should be. I worked at both my jobs today and they were pretty busy.... So I just don't get it. I should be yawning. I should be exhausted. I'm not. I'm not having crazy thoughts or mentally busy.

If I was at Camp, I would be up planning the next day's stuff. I'd make sure that I had all my ducks in a row and my i's dotted and t's crossed. I'd be dying for a cigarette and a good long sleep. Garbage would be collected. I'd have spent 20 minutes with my best friend. My walkie would be humming gently.

Since I'm home now, I don't have to plan the next day's stuff. I don't have to worry about 15 girls... All I do is watch Fam Guy and play stupid games on FB.

I do miss camp... But I'm glad I'm home.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Thanks for the laughs, Harry.

10 years ago, 2 year important things came into my life- Camp Louise and Harry Potter.  I can hear you groaning right now. "Oh god, ANOTHER Harry freak" You're right, I am one of those Potterheads. You can stop reading any time. Some of my best memories have both camp and HP in them.

Here's the thing, though, unlike camp, I'll never have to say goodbye to Harry. Sure, this last movie is coming out and after I see this there will be nothing new to see about the HP world ever again. I'm okay with that. Sometimes it's just nice to escape to "where everyone knows your name." Or you know theirs.

Something else, there is a LOT of fan fiction out there about the Potterverse. Sure it's not as good as the offical written word (but it's no where near as bad as the "8th season" of BtVS. Plus one day when I have nieces and nephews, I'll get to rediscover the Potterverse all over. Or more likely in my case, when I get a puppy I can introduce him to Harry and his friends.

The books are amazing! I like the movies (especially since I'm able to pretend they are completely separate from the books.) But I guess I'll just close this by saying I'm very excited to see how it all ends. So, Harry James Potter thanks for the laughs.... Now go kick some ass

Sunday, July 3, 2011

A letter to Mr. Obama

Dear Mr.Obama,
            My name is PoGo and I’m 26 years old. I know I’ll never meet you, but there’s a few things I’d like to discuss with you. I would like to start by stating I voted for you in both the primary and the real election. Once you became an option, you were my only choice. 
            Today is America’s birthday, July 4th. This holiday is one of my favorites because it stands for everything America does. Freedom, fireworks, and cake! However, this July 4th is a bitter also. Frankly, I’m disappointed that you’ve been president for as long as you have and gays still can’t marry. I know things don’t happen overnight. However, you’ve been president since January 20, 2009 and I still can’t get married. I remember watching you place your hand on the bible and swear to run this country to the best of your ability. I remember thinking “This man is going change things.” I believed your promise of hope.
            I hear people say that we’re in a recession. I’ve felt the repercussions of it myself. I don’t understand why at this time in our history, no one has said passing the gay marriage law will boost the economy. Think about it. There are 311,685,451 people in America according to the website. That’s a whole lot of unmarried queers. I know that not everyone is gay, but I would bet that a lot of 311 million people are. Think about all the jobs that would be created if gays could marry. Engaged couples need rings, flowers, and honeymoons. Bridal boutiques need dresses, flowers, and decorations. Churches need clergy and pews. Married couples need homes. Newly married couples also need new checks, return address labels, and monogrammed towels. That sounds like a lot of jobs to me.
            I know this is a cheap shot, but you have two daughters don’t you? I’d hate to think that you’d never get to walk them down the aisle if one of them were gay. I only bring this up because I am a daughter too. One of the hardest things for my dad was knowing that he’d never get to walk me down the aisle. You see, I only have brothers.
            One more thing, sir, before I go celebrate America. Since everyone is so hung up on having gays marry, why can’t the legal term for marriage be changed? Why can’t two people who legally become one be called a union? Why can’t marriage be the religious term for this union? I know you don’t have answers. Neither do I.  
            I thank you for your time and have a happy July 4th.


Friday, July 1, 2011

Green Glass Doors

Puppies can go through the Green Glass Doors, but trains can't.

Green can go through the Green Glass Doors, but red can't.

Happy can go through the Green Glass Doors, but sad can't.

Trees can go through the Green Glass Doors, but leaves can't.

Apples can go through the Green Glass Doors, but shoes can't.

The following can go through the Green Glass Doors:

*Harry Potter

The following CAN NOT go through the Green Glass Doors:

*Ron Weasley

Figured it out yet? It's a Never Tell game so I can Never Tell you the secret.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Is it time yet?

Everyone sits on a bench with their leg crossed all in the same way.  The first person on the bench asks "is it time yet?" to the person on her left. This continues down the bench until the last person is asked. She responds "no." This message gets relayed up the line. This is repeated a few times until finally the person at the end decides it is time. The message gets passed down the line. Everyone on the bench uncrosses their legs and recrosses them the other way.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Member since Y2K1.

Order of the Fork (Staff only)

It starts with the camp director (who traditionally is returning staff)  stating "I call a meeting of the Order of the Fork!" This is the returning staff (who had been inducted previously) to come to the front of the dining hall. They form a line and sing the song as they snake around the room. The train stops behind someone when the first person in line says "Stand up please!" the person stands up. "Bend over!" She bends over and then gets jabbed in the ass 10x rapidly while the train counts. If there are too many people, after the first group is done they call out "Next shift!" or something similar. They continue to do this until everyone in Order of the Fork has jabbed the inductee. After they are done, the leader says "Grab your fork and join the end of the line!" This is repeated several times. 

Thursday, June 16, 2011


Everything happens for a reason.... I just wish I knew the end results.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Long to be.

Days roll into one and another. Nights are too short. There's not enough time to finish the 1001 Try-It requirements. Laughter, grumbles, and campfire smells pollute the air. There's no time to shower or to take a nap. There's always time for another song, slip & slide, and another never tell game. I linger at last night camp fire hoping to absorb enough magic to motor through tomorrow and the up coming week.

As time passes, I forget the arguments, the lies, and lack of personal space. I forget (mostly) about EMA horror and freezing showers. I begin to long for a run on muddy main field and fire drills that interrupt showers. I miss archery and safety circles. I miss walking to Birches and Needles in the dark. I miss the gorgeous view at the summit (but not the hike up.) I hate having a working TV and current newspapers. I miss hearing the "nah, nah, nah" of Georgie and the walkie waking me up at 3in the morning.

I wish I had taken more pictures. I wish I did more while I was there. I wish I left a bigger mark. I wish I had time to linger and rejoice in nature's beauty. I wish there was one more last night campfire. I wish I had a video of us singing Daisy for the last time. I wish I brought home ashes from that last fire with the hopes and dreams from every fire previously. I wish Connie would come home. I wish I could go back one more time. I'd make it count.

I know camp still lives inside of me. I still have the skills I learned there and the incredible memories made. I still sing Boogie Woogie Washer Woman and The Hippo Song. Every time I hear 2 am (Breathe)  I take a moment to remember the happy and I smile. I'm still PoGo in my core.

Camp Louise is only a camp, but to me, it's so much more than that. It's a home for lost girls. It's a hide out from the real world. It's a playground for adults. It's a concert arena and game show set. Camp Louise is where I long to be.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Introductions, I suppose.

I should start by introducing myself, but really that's just lame. I mean I could tell you that I'm a MA, cashier, and Knoebel's Grove enthusiast, but I will just let you figure that out. 

10 years ago this summer, I started my first Camp job. I was a kitchen/trading post assistant. The TP was way better than the kitchen. I enjoyed that summer. I can't believe it's been 10 years since I first worked at Camp. Incredible times were hard there and these hot, humid days always remind me of that place. Sitting around the campfire roasting s'mores (or taffy cracks.) Singing at the top of my lungs (poorly and out of tune may I add.) Laying in the sun drench grass on main field while campers ran around me. I miss all these things and more-things I don't have the proper words for. 

I'm not really sure where this is going or what I'll be saying in these but I'm going to write.