Reading is Hard

Reading is hard for my coworkers this week. Disasters happened (on air) a few times because of their lack of reading.
In elementary school, we learned to read the whole paragraphs before answering questions on reading quizzes or you would probably get them wrong. Here are my work examples of idiocy.
1. My boss sent out an email stating that a few commercial spots listed for download would not be available and to delete them from the playlists.  Two hours later Coworker #1 responded to email stating we were still missing these commercials from the playlist.
2. A KJZZ rep contacted us via email with some commercial number replacements to change some old ones.  She highlighted in bright yellow that the spot would not actually be down until later in the afternoon. Coworker #2 comes running in asking me if we have the spot or if there was a commercial list sent.  I read the email and pointed out the highlighted section...he blamed medicinal drugs...I blame his stupidity.
3. My good friend Coworker #3 sent out a notice regarding what she named a show (because it was an extra episode) to EVERYONE in the office naming a Thursday episode as ZFRNDXPFRI to make sure it wouldn't get deleted.   My boss noticed it wasn't playing and went looking for ZFRNDSTHU.....reading entire emails is hard. So this episode ran a black screen for the first segments because someone didn't check or read when they were programming for Friday night....special.
I wonder how much it would cost to send my whole department back to first and second grade.  Basic principles would have served our station the headache and Utah the Friends episode they sought to view...at 3 a.m.

Beatles Serenade

High school was a funny time for me. I was an awkward teenager and I had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be.
Junior year was especially strenuous with all of my classes and extracurricular activities.
My Spanish II teacher, Mr. Cabanillas, made my days interesting. He had many names among my fellow classmates, the most common nickname was "Cabi".
He was one of my favorite teachers, consistently threatening (in a teasing way) to do drive-byes or make us into burritos if we didn't do our assignment. He was actually from Mexico and one day we had an entire lesson about why Mexico and Spanish was going to be part of America by 2012 or something.
My favorite memory with Cabi was the day he sang to me in the hall. With his thick spanish accent he sang "Michelle" by the Beatles. 
It wasn't the first time this song has been sung to me, but it is the first time someone sang the French inspired song to me with a Spanish accent. It was surreal.  The memory still makes me laugh.

Life without, according to Dave

Frequently, Dave and I mock argue about the future and our cheesy inability to live without the other.
Last night he declared triumphantly that he would die first.
It has always been our agreement to die together as old people when the house caves in.  I tossed the usual cheesy statement aside this time and said, "What am I supposed to do without you?!"
He looked down for a second, "I don't know....crochet?"
According to Dave; all I would do without him  is crochet for hours on end, probably sobbing all over the yarn.

The Five People You May Meet in a Hospital

I've never really been bothered by hospitals; despite death, sickness and whatever nasty things happen in them. My recent fiasco introduced me to more than the sterile white walls and the hard gurneys. I met some faces behind St. Mark's and I discovered people I loved, hated and everything in between.  There are five types I have met that I wanted to share.
1. The Optimist:  The optimist has no place in a hospital, unless they're going to say, "You're cancer free" or "You get to go home."  My optimist experience happened shortly after my arrival.
I went to St. Marks Hospital to find out of I was going into preterm labor--due to the monstrous back pain I have developed.  A few quick questions, a fetal heart monitor and blood pressure check and here comes the optimist. The hospital's OBGYN, with a bright/fake smile on her face and her almost child-sized doctor's jacket hanging too big off her small frame.  With that same happy smile (only hinting at the fear her job brings her) and a high pitched voice she says, "Your pain is probably from your sciatic nerve and there's nothing we can do for you," and under her breath she mutters something about a Doppler test for my swollen leg.
It's great she actually had the test done, it found my slow blood flow and the blood clot eventually, but I'm pregnant and my back may or may not have exploded that day.  Don't bring a smile and tell me nothing can be done..I'll bite you.
2. The Exchange Student:  I don't meant to stereotype but I was shocked when our evening doctor came by with a heavy European accent. When he came in and started asking the same questions, it was really hard to actually understand what he said.  Dave was suspicious about his vampire abilities and I felt like I should cover my new ugly red scab so he wouldn't start sucking my blood or something. He was very nice, I just wish I could understand him so we could understand what/where we were going tomorrow or the next day.
3. Nurse A: My first nurse in Labor & Delivery was awful.  We had matching names, which made it worse.  She asked the questions, threw on the monitor and checked my blood pressure--that's it.  This irks me.  Her job is to take care of me and the other patients. I felt like I was either a number or just another step in the conveyor belt of hospital work. It was extremely frustrating, especially when I have pain.
4. Nurse B: The rest of my nurses were awesome. The same ones came in day after day and actually helped me out--which was great when I'm on bedrest.  The morning nurses even smelled lovely. Like they actually cared what they looked like and did for a living. Not to mention their legit smiles and sympathetic smiles. I freaking loved my time with them at the Postpartum Ward.  They checked more than my vitals--checked my water, pain and everything else. When it came to showing Dave and I the process of giving shots, they walked us through nice and slow to help us feel more confident in the process.
5. Radiology:  Who knew radiology would be so awesome. They simplified my life immensely. After two ultrasounds on my left leg/groin area, they let me kick it in their department until the "surgery/process" for checking out my veins was ready.  So I didn't have to go back to Labor & Delivery. The assistants also provided me the much needed water and some entertaining magazines to pass the time. They were awesome and their attitudes kept me calm despite the increased awkward/odd situation of my awkward veins.

St. Mark's Hospital was overall a positive experience. Each person held their own sort of experience for me as a patient.  I just wish all the people we interacted with spoke English natively and had a genuine sense of care for the situation.

Love From a Drunken Stranger

A Friday, July 1, the day of a magical three day weekend for many individuals. Many hours after the 2:00 p.m. leave of the company (in general). A few choice individuals, including myself, was left to pick up the pieces of system failure and loss of programming. Then I decided it was a day for Grease Burger...I mean Crown Burger.
I never tire of working downtown. The sights, the sounds, late night empty roads and strange drunken bums.
While standing at a light a man in his fifties pulls up next to me on his bicycle--that's not code for motorcycle or chopper. I'd been standing there a while, waiting for the light to change and he found it an appropriate time to comment to me, "If you stand there long enough, I'll have to flirt with you."
I laughed and hoped he would just walk away, instead he called me beautiful.  After a short conversation he says, "Stay out of trouble. I love you. I'll see you later." and proceeded to ride his bike away--in the middle of the intersection that was still moving with heavy traffic.  At least he was wearing a helmet.
Even in 90 degree weather, a bright red sunburn and a roundish belly, I still got it--a questionably intoxicated fifty year old me on bicycles will hit on me downtown and risk his life while declaring their love. Romanticism still lives on in downtown Salt Lake City--across from the Crown Burger.

This isn't Friday

"Friday" by Rebecca Black is known as the worst song/music video/youtube video ever made. Yet, this song continues to reappear at odd intervals.
While in Ohio for my oldest niece's high school graduation, the commencement student speaker ended his spech with lyrics from the song, "Cause it's Friday, gotta get down on Friday".  It really was Friday, but it was a formal education commencement speech. Kids these days...
This morning Dave and I were taking a walk around West Valley Recreational Center with a lovely view of carnies (setting up for the city carnival this weekend) and the recreational center's outdoor swimming area.  The swimming area had music. While walking around a particularly lovely tree area, "Party Party Fun Fun" cut into both our walk and conversation. The song was playing for the intercom at the rec center.
For the record, this isn't an actual published song; she doesn't have an agent and she doesn't have a recording contract. Also...it is not Friday. I suppose to Rebecca Black, it's always Friday.

Only in Ohio

My oldest niece graduated from high school this last week. Dave and I flew out to show our love and introduce Dave to the family..... perhaps the state of Ohio. Each time I have stayed in Ohio, amusing true stories find their way to me. Like this one:
Our first night, while channel flipping we graced the news. This story was up about an abduction and a sketch of the suspect. Only in Ohio would this sketch appear. Clearly he is wearing his teeth this time around.
So if your in the Cincinnati, Ohio part watch out for this man, wearing a fishing hat, a lazy eye(s) and buck teeth (probably fake).