Monthly Archives: December 2007

The worst thing about Nightwork -or- Smiling sex offenders

You’ve heard seen me mention Nightwork a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever really explained it.

First: I work a lot. A LOT. I have a full-time job [just got a new one where I DON’T work for a stuttering idiot with brillo hair, a moody bitch, or the mayor of Tourette’s Town; I actually LIKE my coworkers and bosses and my job in general] and then I have Nightwork.

Every week day I get up, go to my full-time job and work an eight hour day. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I leave straight from there and head down the parkway to Nightjob.

Where I work until nine pm.

Because I have no life. Because I was stupid and had four credit cards right out of college.

Anyway, Nightwork is the source that brings me [and you] BTSG, holiday parties, and a lot of whining.

BTSG has been in rare, smiling-at-me/staring-at-me mode lately, but now I’ve discovered an even worse phenomenon: SMILING PERVERTS.

See, at Nightwork we do employment screenings, with the occasional tenant screening thrown in.

Part of my job is to research people and find out what naughty business they’ve been up to.

And that includes researching for sex offenses.

I’ve only found one or two that are actually the applicant for whom we’re looking.

But the others are far, far worse: some of them SMILE in their mugshots.

Arresting officer: “Sir, you are charged with taking indecent liberties with a minor and 3rd degree sexual exploitation of a minor.”

Dirty old man (or woman): GRIIINNNNNNN

Sometimes, the perp’s mugshot shows them tentatively smiling, like they’re not sure if they should or they’re a first-timer, or maybe they just have no idea what’s going on.

Like this guy:


Sometimes, they have a smug smile, like “My uncle is a lawyer; I’m totally getting out of this” or “I’m drunk/high right now, so I really don’t care and think this is a joke”:


But the one I hate the most, the one that makes me want to track the fucker down and go vigilante on them, is when they smile like they’ve won the lottery (or at least a five-dollar scratch-off ticket):


Ew, dude. Just… ew.

I searched forever to find a good smiley one, and this isn’t even the best one. Worst one.. whatever. But, next time I find a prime example, I’ll be sure to share it with you.


oh p.s.

since i’m a financial disaster and haven’t yet put up the money to get internet back at home, i check my email on my cell phone on weekends.

i got a comment screening email, so i checked it.

the content of the comment said “very interesting, but i don’t agree with you. -idetroce”

at first, i thought that BTSG had somehow discovered my blog and was onto me [ohh noeeez!] since it was on an entry about her.

i went back and checked the whois for the IP source and it was Amsterdam.

turns out, this Idetroce is a huge spam thing that’s been going around lately.

i’m sure BTSG is as clueless as ever.

OH and i didn’t tell you all one extremely hilarious thing that happened involving BTSG, V and S.

First, go back and read this

Now, one afternoon, V and S were trying to avoid having their pictures taken for the company directory, so they went to the bathroom to hide out from the male photographer.

While they were looking at themselves in the mirror and chatting, V said, “Haha, we could stay in here a long time; all we need to do is bring a book in like BTSG does.”

S didn’t hear her, so she said it again, a little louder.

And the two of them immediately heard a voice from one of the stalls say, “Thanks a lot guys.”


it was almost enough to make me embarassed. almost.

this past weekend was nightwork’s Christmas party.

i wore leggings. LEGGINGS.

for the first time since i was about twelve.

i wore them with this top:


and even though, to some, i probably looked like a circus freak, i felt badass and had an awesome time.

i got kicked in the leg at a show afterward [following the highball glass full of liquor that ricocheted out of a guy’s hand and onto me] so now i have a bruise and a cut.

and i feel even more badass.

I have a new job, and now I like coming to work.

Forget that I don’t have an actual office anymore.  It’s cubicle city here, but I love it.

It’s really strange working for/with people who aren’t complete bitches/airheads/catty cuntrags.

God knows I have enough of those in my personal life.

I mean, I get here almost a full hour earlier than I did when I wrangled med students aka wiped their asses.

Sure, sometimes I get down and a little teary because I get an email involving a two-year-old in hospice care, but that comes with the territory.

I feel USEFUL and I don’t feel like anyone’s bitch [I was my ex-boss’s bitch times twelve].

Today, I got my first full paycheck from my new job and, while I’m not rich, I can definitely breathe a sigh of relief and my old job can suck it even more.

I’ m having lunch with the pentagenarian today, and I can’t wait to get more details on my ex-boss’s hibernation, since pentagenarian says she barely comes out of her office.

Oh, p.s.: Lady Criesalot got a new job, too. With my company’s competitor.  She has probably whispered and cried about four times at her new job now.

I didn’t tell you how I almost died again.

Ok, kinda almost died.

Ok, had a scare that I might have a life-threatening blood clot in my lung.


I’d been having weird breathing issues for about two weeks.  I don’t have asthma, but my dad and sister do.  My mom has had pneumonia like eight times and we both get bronchitis really easily, so I figured at WORST it’d be walking pneumonia.

Boy, was I in for it.

I got to my doctor’s office and he listened to my chest.  It sounded clear, but he decided to take my oxygen level.

It was 94%.


If I were taking a calculus test, I’d be thrilled at a 94, but when your level is supposed to be around 98% and it’s OXYGEN we’re talking about, it’s not so great.

So, my doctor orders a chest x-ray. STAT, even.

It came out clear.  No pneumonia or anything.

He then says to me,  “I want to order a CAT scan for you.  There’s a chance you could have a blood clot in your lung.  If there IS one,  you’ll have to be admitted to the hospital for two days to go on blood thinners.”

Cue my bowels feeling liquidy and me internally yelling, “Ah shit, man! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Doc W then went on to say that he was just being cautious and nervous and that I “had everything on the good side” meaning I’m under 35, I don’t smoke, etc.

So I got scheduled for a CAT scan at 2pm across town.  I figured I’d go home, get my cell phone, pack a just-in-case bag, and then go back to the office for a bit.

As soon as I walked in my apartment, my cell phone rang: “The Fresh Cracker, this is JP from name of my doctor’s office.  You need to go to name of  hospital across town right now  and they can work you in for your CAT scan.”

That is when this cracker got a little nervous. I mean, everything was “STAT” and “ASAP” so I was like “WTF” and “OMG”.

So I go to the hospital across town and register for my CAT scan.  And they put a hospital bracelet on me.

I go to the waiting room where I sit for about seven minutes before a super nice chick comes to get me.

She explains everything [including the fact that I must remove my necklace and underwire bra] and I hop on the table.

She then explains that I will be given an IV of iodine for tracking and it will make me have an odd taste in the back of my mouth and feel like I’m wetting myself.

Yeah, right. I figured it was one of those “Warning: contents under pressure.  Cap may blow off causing eye damage” type things. Possible, but unlikely to happen.

Boy, am I glad she warned me.

After she sent the iodine through my IV, I immediately got a nasty taste in my mouth. And felt like I was whizzing all over myself.

Seriously, had I not been warned, I would’ve been all “Um, nurse? I…. I had an accident.”

So, it was all over with, and nice radiologist lady and I were laughing about the pee-feeling. 

I went and sat back in the waiting room for a bit, then they called my name, handed me my films, and told me to go back and see my PCP. [No, not THAT kind of PCP]

I get to Dr. W’s office and check BACK in, handing them my films.

Then I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

A nurse type lady comes out, calls my name, then says, “Miss Cracker.  I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.  Dr. W is figuring out what he wants to do and we’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Right then, I get sweaty palm [jsyk, my palms smell like potatoes when I sweat. dunno why] and start thinking “Shit! I can’t go into the hospital! They charge like five bucks for a BAND AID there and yeah, sure, insurance covers 80% but that means I have to pay 20% and since my office is at the hospital, I know what kind of shitbag hospital it really is and I know of people who’ve gotten CRAP care there.”

and other kinds of “Oh NOEEEEZ!” thoughts.

So I finally get called back and they put me in a room.

Dr. W comes in just a few minutes later and says…

“Your films are clear”

Good gah, I swear I almost lost control of my bowels at that point.

The good doctor goes on to tell me that I apparently had bronchitis with an asthmatic reaction.

Oh. So that’s why I’d been wheezing and struggling for breath.

So he put me on an inhaler and told me to call/come right in if the breathing problems continued.

He even had his office call me the next day to see if I was alright.


Since then, I’ve had to use the old lung-sucker a few times. I would say that this sucks, but that would be too obvious.