Love on Wheelz

I don’t understand what about me attracts the crazy nurses. Maybe my quirky personality drives away the sane ones (if there are any) or maybe Christian companies don’t attract many sane people in the first place. A company founded on an ideology can’t be run by very sane people. For example, what would you think about a Republican company? Poop flinging crazy. Scientology company? They probably masturbate in a pool of their own vomit and then fingerpaint on the walls with the mix. My point is, bitches be crazy.
This story is about one particular bitch who be very crazy.
Her name was Jasmin. She was the morning nurse who took me to school every day. She wore the kind of clothes high-class women who care too much about appearance wear – Coach scarf, Gucci trenchcoat and other atrociously expensive clothing. And always with the fucking blue-tooth. By always, I mean that I don’t ever remember seeing her take it off regardless as to whether she was talking on it or not, which, admittedly, wasn’t very often.
Her face was sneaky and weird. There wasn’t any particular feature I could point to that was sneaky, it was just intrinsically sneaky. Kind of like how circles are inherently round or how cheese is inherently evil. She wasn’t fat, but she had a big double chin that made her look like a frog. So imagine a Filipina frog who wears nothing but high-end clothing and never takes off her Bluetooth, and you have an approximate mental picture of her.
She also had a large collection of purses. I asked her about them one day.
“How many purses do you have, anyway?”
“About thirty.”
“THIRTY?! WHY THE HELL DOES ANYONE NEED THAT MANY DEAD COWS?”
“Some people collect stamps, I collect purses.” She said matter-of-factly.
“How much are they?!”
“Let’s see… the most expensive one is…” she squinted her already squinty eyes upward, “$30,000 another $25, 000…”
“THIRTY-THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS?!”
“Overall, I probably have $100,000 in purses.” she said in that non-chalant-I’m-pretending-I-don’t-care-to-look-cool kind of way.
The only way to describe my facial expression was like if I were to walk in on my parents having sex with a goat and a midget while chanting Gregorian hymns.
“What?” she asked as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You have two college educations worth in dead fucking cow!”
“So?” she shrugged.
“You could feed an entire African village for a year!”
“We give to charity.”
“Yeah, bu-”
“It’s my money, I can use it however I want.”
Fair enough, I thought. It wouldn’t be so ridiculous if she didn’t complain about her $100,000 dollar debt while using her iPod touch to shop on Amazon. I’m not talking shopping once in a while, this was every day. To say she was frugal with her spending is the equivalent of saying that Hitler disliked the jews.
She also could not take a joke to save her life. She’s “not that kind of girl” which is another way of saying she’s a humorless bitch. Apparently teasing people is not nice. Whatever, like any normal human being, it’s the only way I communicate affection.
All this was forgiven because she was a competent nurse and treated me well. At least for a while…
The first sign of trouble was when she would leave me in the classroom to go use the bathroom. Meanwhile there was no one that knew what to do should I stop breathing. She would leave for two or three minutes at a time apparently oblivious that it only takes 45 seconds for me to lose consciousness.
Then she started getting an attitude. My requests to have my chair reclined were met with big passive-aggressive sighs. The sighs soon turned into, “Why can’t you do it yourself?” (because I physically couldn’t). When I had trouble controlling my chair due to the cold and she had to readjust my hand she would mutter under her breath and roll her eyes.
On one such occasion, I was barely able to make it into my house before my hand got too cold to drive. Once inside, I asked her to push me the rest of the way.
“Are you serious?”
“Uh… yeah. I can’t drive for a minute. My hand is too cold.”
“Really?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes! We’re in the house, it’s all flat and smooth.”
“This is ridiculous. I can’t believe this,” she croaked and rolled her frog eyes making sure it was crystal clear that she was not happy about it while she pushed me.
After a while of her snide remarks, passive-aggressiveness and generally bitchy attitude I decided that I’d had enough. So I told my mom that I wanted to sit down and talk with her.
“Um… you’ll have to wait.” my mom whispered.
“Why?”
“I think she’s stealing from us.”
“Tell me you’re kidding” I said wearily.
“No”
“Why?”
“Because ever since she got here stuff has started to go missing. We’re going to put in cameras to try and catch her in the act. Until then, you have to act like nothing is wrong.”
“So I have to trust someone who may be stealing from us with my life?”
“They’re not related, but yes. We’re putting the cameras in next Wednesday and I need you to distract her until after we put them in.”
“So I have to trust someone who may be stealing from us with my life AND be a secret agent man?”
“Yes.”
“Sold.”
So for the next week I was undercover. I have to say, my covert skills are not to be underestimated. I still teased her and she never suspected a thing. On the day they installed the cameras, I successfully distracted her by making up places I had to go to. James Bond doesn’t have shit on me. The only reason it’s not being made into a movie is because I didn’t end up having hot steamy sex with her. And that’s only because she was a pudgy amphibian
We caught her a week later and summarily fired her. She said that she’d had that “problem” since she was a little kid. Problem my ass. She knew exactly what she was doing and had complete control over it. She was only sorry because she got caught. Though, to her credit, she did turn herself in.
The fact remains, she came into our house and stole $4,000 dollars in stuff. She betrayed the sacred trust between nurse and patient, so fuck her. She didn’t only steal from my parents, but from my little brother. Fuck. Her. She’s a horrible fucking cunt and deserves her time in jail.
I’m beginning to think that a cute well adjusted nurse is much like Bigfoot – an urban legend to make the world seem more exciting than it actually is. I see no evidence for the Hot Nurse’s existence, but I will keep searching for her. My elusive bigfoot, except preferably with less hair.

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