i received a package in the mail today containing a christmas gift i ordered. and a little something extra from the company. in a small handwritten ziploc baggie. i'm not sure if it's meant to be funny, earnest, or ironic hipster novelty, but in any case, i am amused:

 

 

usually the patient notes in our medical billing system software display generic clinical things like "new med chart xx/xx/xx" or "schedule only with dr. x" or "pt refund sent xx/xx/xx". this one, however, gave me pause today:

 

so i was thinking today in the elevator that it would be really awkward if someone decided to design one lined entirely with mirrors.

depending on how you look at it, i returned home from work today to find either a late 2005 or early 2006 christmas present shoved in my door. i finally used the remainder of last year's gift card from my parents and bought a shiny new pair of these shoes, and i know for certain that kt is reading this and thinking MY GOD WOMAN IT'S ABOUT TIME AND PLEASE I HOPE YOU DON'T GET ANOTHER GIFT CARD THIS YEAR FORCING ME TO SHOP WITH YOU FOR THE NEXT TEN MONTHS. also let it be noted that i am fully aware that these look pretty much like my old pair of brown shoes [which have currently worn through part of the sole, hence the new pair]. what can i say? i know what i like.

 

current attire: previously mentioned shoes, brown thrift store cords, newly acquired thrift store tee. so basically, i'm your stereotypical twentysomething hipster for the night.

vacations are beautiful things. i should have "nothing" vacations more often. because aside from the Having To Actually Wake Up part, i feel pretty okay about the Having To Actually Work Tomorrow part. and thanksgiving was nice. having many aunts and uncles and various subsets of families therein makes for a lot of activity, and, also: automatic portion control.

 

funniest story of my weekend: went to applebee's with the parents on saturday for lunch. somehow we're talking about reunions and our own high school classmates. i ask my dad about some random person he's talking about, and i hear him say, "oh, it's bruce... the guy that runs the porn shop."

 

holy mother of god. i almost drop my fork, somehow manage to swallow my food, and choke out, "excuse me?"

 

"what? you know, the porn shop."

 

no, actually, NO, I DON'T KNOW THE PORN SHOP and are we really talking or am i dreaming this up? at this point i'm staring wordlessly, wondering what on earth just happened to this conversation, not to mention the very fabric of existence as it begins to unravel around me.

 

my mom jumps in as well, and they are BOTH trying to explain. oh god oh god oh god. "he owns the porn shop! he's had it for years... it's right down the road. you passed it on the way in." they're looking at me like i'm nuts, when suddenly, i get it.

 

 

"OHHHHH... the PAWN shop!" my relief is overwhelming. and it is at this point that i notice our server at her computer station adjacent to our booth, across from me, and behind my dad. i catch her eye in my moment of clarity and can see from her barely contained laughter that she has heard our entire miscommunicated discussion.

 

 

i'm not sure if it makes the story better or worse that five minutes later my dad casually mentioned, "and when his first wife was laid up in the hospital for awhile? he sort of turned it into a porn shop."