my honey.

I really should quit my job at the hospital.

3 part-time jobs and full time grad school in another language is a really crazy life choice.

But I just can't quit. I never will. They are going to have to find some way to coerce me to leave when they finally tire of me. I just love those monkey butts so much. (and I need the extra cash to survive).

I look forward to Thursday nights, even though it takes all evening on the bus to get there, I get smooshed into an elevator with screaming parents and sick children, and then have my keys jammed in the conference room door....every week. Some weeks they forget to leave me the white board. Other weeks they double book the room and I have to have class in the hall so that doctors from around the country can meet in the conference room.

But I love them. And people trump circumstances everytime.

In order for my story to make sense/be funny you have to now what happened last week.

Last week, my boss met me to give me an envelope. When she handed it to me and I clutched it to my chest and said, "thank you I am dying!" I thought she had paid me (I do not get paid on a schedule, so I never know when I will have money and when I...won't.)

She looked at me strangely and said, "Oh no! No money! Invitiation! We will dance Waka Waka!" then scampered off. Leaving me confused,sad that I had no money, and counting up how me and Mu Shu kitty were going to eat until Monday came and I got my scholarship money. The envelope contained an invitation to the hospital dance competition between wards, and you guessed it - the cardiac ward is dancing to Shakira's Waka Waka. No way I'm missing that.

So anyways, tonight I was to meet my boss by the elevator so she could give me my print outs of Steve Jobs' 2005 Stanford commencement address. I was teaching the speech tonight and had asked my boss to print the sheets for me since I do not have a printer (or anything that makes a person human).

I stood by the elevators watching families carry dinner to the wards where their sick children were. And then I saw my boss in a frilly dress running towards me.

I walked to meet her and she rushed at me all frazzled and high-pitched, "Here is your moooney, I do not want you to dieeeee, you are my hoooooneeyyyyyyyyy." Then she handed me an envelope (with money this time) and my prints and flittered out of the hospital doors about as fast as she had run in.

I turned around, headed back towards the elevators and kept chuckling to myself.

"I do not want you to diiiieeeee, you are my hoooneeeyyyyyy."

hahahahahahahaha. Picture a little tiny Asian lady saying that to me, and that is some funny stuff.

walk slow. xoxo.