biscuits anyone?

I’m waiting on my gorgeous son and his boyfriend to finish sticking feathers and sequins on the glasses they’re designing for mardi gras. our lounge room is covered in poofery and nursemyra couldn’t be happier. I want to post piccies for all to see but while I wait I’ll blog about a job I once had briefly many years ago before the gimcrack snared me…

I answered one of those back pages ads for a receptionist at a high class brothel. I must admit I had this romanticised idea that I would play the role of a firm but fair guardian angel to a horde of pretty gals who were doing this job on the side as an easy way of paying their university fees. I think I even imagined we’d spend the down time between well heeled clients discussing Proust or Joyce while nibbling on turkish delight and sipping vermouth.

Of course it was nothing like that. I was given a bunch of cards with a description of each girl on the front and a list of what she would/wouldn’t do on the back. My job was to throatily suggest “Mandy, 23, green eyes, biscuit coloured hair and a 38 inch bosom” to horny blue collar simians who always wanted to “cut through the crap and book me in with the big titted blonde I had last week”

the gals were a mixed bunch but not at all interested in crumbling a madeleine or even drowning one in a glass of vermouth. they spent their down time shooting up in the back room and checking out the proximity of my handbag. I did manage to last for a full 8 hour shift though so I can tell you what the most requested ’service’ was.

Did you think it would be oral sex? Perhaps a girl who would take it up the rear? Or a little lesbian action maybe? They would have been my bets. And careful reading of the cards showed that most of the gals included those acts in their repertoire.

But the most requested service was penetration with a strap on. That’s right folks. The hookers who’d sport a plastic phallus and put it where the sun don’t shine were the most popular bill of fare. As Ripley would say…. believe it or not…. but nursemyra is a paragon of veracity and all her truths are stranger than fiction. It’s a wild world out there.

ultimate necessity

It’s mardi gras time here in sin city so I’m leafing through all the associated literature and I find an ad for the Ultimate Health and Hygiene Necessity for Your Lifestyle – the Hyundai Bidet!

“douche yourself in seconds with the Enema Wash feature, Auto Dry ready for action any day any time and end those embarrassing moments during and after sex. the Hyundai Bidet is the ultimate in Health and Hygiene and will improve your Love Life. Be among the thousands of Australians who have experienced the Life Changing Benefits of this fine bidet.”

just what are those embarrassing moments during and after sex that the Hyundai Bidet ends? and Auto Dry ready for action? that sounds kinda unjuicy. but mostly I want to know what the Life Changing Benefits would be so I visited their website…….

My husband used to spend a lot of time on the throne, now I can’t get him out of the bathroom.
“Name Withheld” sent in this testimonial. I’m more confused than ever. Was the “throne” he used to sit on not already in the bathroom? Is “Name Withheld” grateful for this change in habits or is this actually a complaint?

so I checked out the FAQ:

HOW CAN A BIDET IMPROVE MY SEX LIFE?

1/ When cleanliness is an issue, both men and women who want better hygiene before or after sexual activities can utilize our bidet for the cleansing and pulsating massage functions.

Pulsating massage functions….. now you’re talking. Let’s investigate the Health Issues section:

In more than a few ads for bidets, doctors claim the device may even prevent colon cancer, but we have found no study so far that substantiates that.Despite the lack of hard data, it seems reasonable that just the thought of a device that might prevent surgeons from one day removing a substantial portion of your rectum would create a frenzied run on bidets.

Well if the lure of pulsating massage functions doesn’t get you in then the (unsubstantiated) threat of losing a substantial portion of your rectum might.

Putting in the gimcrack’s order now…..

the turd

sometimes I feel like nurse ratchet. from my station I can oversee the communal lounge so nothing much escapes my eye. glancing up at 9.45 a.m. it all looked calm. another glance at 9.48 and something drew my attention to the middle of the room. on the carpet. a perfectly coiled human turd.

was that steam coming off it?

the diversional therapist donned 2 pairs of rubber gloves and armed herself with  a spill kit. “Still warm” was her professional opinion. Only 4 patients had entered the room in those three minutes. we discounted the 2 males. Nothing so perfectly coiled could have come down via a trouser leg. it must be someone in a dress. no underwear.

 so it had to be Miz M or Miz P. we placed our bets. I had $5 riding on Miz M. the DT thought Miz P was the culprit. the evidence was shown to the shower nurse and I lost. Miz M.’s waste is apparently of the ‘loose’ variety. that’s hospital talk to those of you who aren’t medically inclined.

ok so we’re not detectives here at the gimcrack but our nurses are damned pretty. and they know their turds.

hold the dressing

we house 12 of our more demented patients on the 3rd floor. they have their own lounge and kitchen up there so they’re pretty self contained. still, they need socialising with more than just each other so we bring them downstairs for bus trips, birthday teas, concerts and that old stalwart – the religious service. the staff on level 3 sometimes go to a lot of trouble to dress them up because left to our own devices, those of us who have lost our marbles tend to think that spotted pyjamas and striped anoraks make fashionable daywear.

yesterday as they filed docilely past my desk on their way to benediction, Miz Barbara, resplendent in a green dress with a string of red beads slipped me a crumpled piece of paper. aha! perhaps she thinks she’s seen a sympathetic gleam in my eye. perhaps she’s worked out that I’m the chatelaine around here and if she wants a hand with her escape plans then nurse myra is the way to go.

the note said: “unfortunately, today I am a salad”

my bloody valentine

I have no interest in valentine’s day but here at the gimcrack we celebrate at the drop of a hat. and not just because the Mental Health, Ageing and Disability Act encourages socialisation. Hey it breaks up the nurse’s day too if I’m handing out heart shaped chocolates and wilted roses.

In return I received:

1 supermarket docket, 1 half used lipstick, the silver foil from 3 chocolate hearts, 1 continence pad (only slightly damp), a geranium, a sample bottle of 4711, a bruised nectarine and some plastic rosary beads.

Thankfully I did not get any coathangers from the crotchet group this year.

lifestyles of the rich and rabid

Dishing out drugs and discipline at the Gimcrack isn’t the craziest job I’ve ever taken. Back last century I had a short lived career as a PA to the pampered pets of one very rich woman. Basia was so rich that she forked out cash for her palatial home, a mere $7 million back then, it would sell for twice that now. My charges were two miniature schnauzers named Mimi and Fifi.

They mostly dined on leftovers from the rich folk’s table. I fed those pampered pups lobster, sashimi and carpetbag steak….. when there were no leftovers I cooked them Osso Bucco simmered in chardonnay (but I drew the line at gremolta).

I chauffered them to doggie beauty parlour every week and walked them past Nicole Kidman’s house twice a day. Cushy job you say? Ah but there’s a catch. Basia also required a drinking partner for lunch. Do you know how hard it is to trim veal shanks when you’re half plastered on veuve cliquot?

I only lasted four months. Basia went skiing in Klosters and I had to live in her waterfront prison for 3 weeks so the dogs wouldn’t get lonely at night. They slept on either side of me with their heads on my pillow. I could live with the lobster breath but when you wake up with doggy drool pooling in your ear canal you know it’s time to pull the plug.

Basia, Mimi and Fifi have all departed for Rich Folks Heaven now. Gone but not forgotten. I still have the crystal studded step-in harness that Fifi refused to wear. If only one of the  Gimcrack patients were schnauzer-sized……

an oldie on an oldie

one of our new patients was wearing a t-shirt that I’m sure you’ve all seen before but let me tell you – not many of the Gimcrack’s inmates had until today. The motto on the shirt said “Liquor up the front”. Caused a stir in the dining room – remember the average age here is 89.5 . Mr Liquor however is only 78 so I guess his licking days are not over just yet…..