Hospital.

I......hate youuuuu!

I hate working at the hospital. Which is ironic because I will probably work in a hospital until I retire. Or die. Most likely the latter. But if there is one thing that could be worse than working at the hospital, it is working at the hospital as a student. Also, as a health care worker, there is much emphasis on quality patient care. There are many "incidents" that have occurred. These are my stories.


Me: So who is that man that was in the room with you? Your son?
Old lady: That is my husband!
Me: =O!!!! ....OH.... he looks..... so young.......
Old lady: He's older than me!
Me: .... Would you like a warm blanket?
Old lady: ...




Me: You doin ok, sir?
Senile old man: (*tries to punch my face) OH I WILL GET MY BIG BROTHER ON YOU! OH THE THINGS HE WILL DO TO YOU!!!
Me: .... take care!





Me: Good morning, sir!
Old lady: .....
Me: .......ma'am....




Male patient: So when did you move to the US? 1975?
Me: Uh...no. I was born here.
Male patient: What are you? Chinese? Japanese? Vietnamese?
Me: ...Korean.
Male patient: Tell me. How can you tell the difference between Asians? They all look the same to me.
Me: .......o.......k......bye.





Me: Sir, for this exam we need you to remove your underwear.
Old man: Oh good. Don't wear none anyway.
Me:....ehh..ok.
Old man: Do you know why?!
Me: No. (Please don't tell me why!)
Old man: Ever had sex on the beach? If you did, you'd know why! HA HA HA!
Me: .... I want to go home.




Me: Everything alright, sir?
Bipolar old man: Oh yeah, I'm fine. (whispers) Jacka**.
Me: o...k then.
Bipolar old man: (whispers) Dumb prick.
Me: Alright then. You take care!
Bipolar old man: Alright. Thanks for everything! (whispers) Stupid a**hole.
Me:.....I want to go home.




Me: Hey my name's Eugene and I'm gonna take your x-rays.
Patient: Woah! You can speak English!
Me: ...... sigh~




Old lady: Can you take my bra off for me?
Me: ..ew....
Old lady: Huh?
Me: Nothing. I'll go get another tech.


Middle aged creepy lady: Oooh you look cute, Eugene. Has anyone ever told you that?
Me: LOL no. Never. Look at me.
Middle aged creepy lady: Oh but you're so cute!
Me: ...ehhh, kbye.




Old man: You know it's weird that I fought in a war and killed people of your descent and now here you are taking my x-rays....
Me: ...alrighty then. Take care!





So if you're considering working in the health care field, I advise you to reconsider. They poop on you, pee on you, cuss you out, and get naked in front of you and you have to act like you are happy that they are doing so. Until next time, cu!

PS. Please comment!

10 Signs that my parents may not love me.

1. They never tell me where they are and secretly go places without me.


2. My dad steals my shirts and wears them to work. When I ask why there are oil stains on it, he says it's because I eat too many fried foods.


3. Everytime I am sick, they think I am faking. I am not in 2nd grade anymore.


4. They punish me for eating out even though there is nothing to eat at home. Usually results in a beating.


5. They tell me to eat less. They reward me with food.


6. They call me by my dog's name.


7. My mom packed me a raw potato for lunch today.


8. They say exercise makes my injuries worse, but work heals all wounds.


9. They do not know how old I am. I am an only child.  (I think...)


10. This is the only picture that they have of me growing up.

why me.

Today.

Today, my mom called me a glutton and said I would die in Armageddon.

Gasoline.

If there is only one thing that I hate in this world, it would most definitely be gasoline. I drive a six cylinder car that puts out 36 horsepower to the wheels and gets about 18 mpg. With gas prices through the roof, you really have to pay an arm and a leg for a couple of gallons of fuel.

Fortunately, I use Regular

When I first started driving, I used Premium gasoline, as recommended in the driver's manual. But the economic crisis hit me hard, forcing me to downgrade to "Plus." Then food started to get short as I reached a financial low. I was unable to get my daily meal of Double Cheeseburger Meal Large and McChicken (with free apple pie) and I ultimately settled for Regular, for there is not a cheaper and lower octane fuel option.




SIDE NOTE: I am still curious as to why people with regular/slow cars put in Premium gas. Also, the thought that different gas stations have "different gas" still baffles me to this day. Back when I was still using Premium, I accidentally pumped in Regular and was horrified that I made such a mistake. I drove my car. It felt the same. The end.


Now that I have supplied some background information on my thoughts on gasoline, I must admit that there have been many mishaps involving gasoline that have made me hate it more. Much, much more. So much that I have even thought of buying a Prius when I got a job. But then I realized Priuses are slow and ugly, and is really only good for sneaking up on people quietly to pin them against a shrubbery and of course, gas mileage.


The first instance was when I was an avid gym goer and actually ate healthy things. I woke up at 5 in the morning so I could hit the gym and work out. On my way though, I realized that I have been on "E" for quite some time so I knew that I had to put in gas after my work out. After I worked out, I headed to the gas station to grab something to eat and put some gas in.


Unfortunately, I only had 3 dollars.

Decisions, decisions.
It was either...

OMG 2 for 2!

Or...

sigh~

Being the unusually smart guy that I am, I decided to compromise. Why not get both? So I only got ONE taquito and the rest I put on pump 7, which totaled out to be $1.47. I don't think I have ever seen a gas pump shut off as soon as I started pumping, but that is exactly what happened. If only I lived in 1923. $1.47 would've filled my tank twice. But luckily my car did not stall and die.


The second instance is worse in which my car did actually stall and die. I was on my way to do field service with BrokenGlasses. I started to drive when my car suddenly could not change gears and sputtered it's final drops of precious fuel. There was good news and bad news.

Good news. The road that I was on has very few traffic so the likelihood of getting hit by a car while pushing my own car was significantly lower.

Bad news. My car stopped while I was going uphill.

So, while wearing a suit, I had to push my car up the hill and on to the side of the road for safety. I then called BrokenGlasses to help me and he kindly brought a gallon of fuel in one of those red containers. Because of this traumatic experience I was determined to never run out of gas again, and to always fill up early. Which brings me to my next story.



My car ran out of gas again. This time I was on my way to the hospital to work early in the morning. Luckily, it stalled out while I was accelerating downhill so I was able to travel an additional three quarters of a mile closer to the gas station. There were a couple of problems with where I was situated with my dead car.



1. Rush hour traffic and people were everywhere.
2. The gas station was about 200 yards away.
3. It was 30 degrees F.



Unfortunately, in between me and the gas station were two things the people of Suwanee cannot live without.

I hate my life

I hate my life even more

The only thing Suwanee people love more than Chikfila and Starbucks is Chikfila and Starbucks in the morning.



Of course, that day I was wearing my bright red scrubs (as pictured).

*I am the sole Asian in the picture. I was literally picked for "diversity."

Why me. Why.

So here I was walking down the road, wearing red scrubs and carrying a red gas container, with the entire city of Suwanee watching. Luckily, this time I had money. An entire 20 dollars! So I said, "20 on pump 5." and walked down to the pump, only to find that it was out of order. So I went back inside and told the worker. He kindly transferred it over to another pump. As I started to pump, I realized that I had a 1 gallon container. Gas may be expensive, but it is not 20 dollars for one gallon. So I went to get the change, and spilled gasoline on myself.  I walked back to my car as the town of Suwanee watched me once again. I filled my car with that one gallon, drove it to the gas station, and filled my car up.


QT worker: HA HA. You're back! I don't know what's going on. A lot of people are running out of gas.
Me: ....o....k......

All was well, or so I thought.



At the hospital.

Tech 1: WHAT IS THAT SMELL?!?!
Tech 2: Is that...... gasoline? (nasty look on face*)
Me: ...ye..yeah.. I think it's coming from over there! (points to opposite direction*)


Then I ran away.


Through this lengthy blog entry I hope that you have learned the depth of my hatred for gasoline.

I will end my blog with pictures of alternative fuel sources.

slave.

Unlimited fuel source in the US

Luckily, there are many old horses in Suwanee

Thanks for reading. Comment if you'd like. Or if you would like to donate a gallon. Or two. Or a slave.

I am not a terrible person.

NOTE: This is a very serious topic and is not intended to make fun, ridicule, or mock any person(s). Names have been changed/altered to protect the identity of those involved.

I write to you through this blog to defend my position regarding an event that ended in obvious catastrophe. There have been many rumors, mostly lies, that have stemmed from this event. The main persons involved is me obviously, and another fellow who we will call "SC" for privacy reasons. And also a bench. I do not want to reveal "SC's" face, but he is a small Asian guy that sometimes wears sunglasses indoors and hovers above my right shoulder and spits on my food.


Unfortunately, SC may have a slight problem with vision. But there is nothing wrong with that. That is not his fault. I love SC no matter what. It is most definitely WheelchairDude's fault, who has been the main source of many lies and half-truths. On with the story.

It all started on a nice Saturday afternoon when a couple of guys and I decided to play basketball outside.

The scene of the event (bench not pictured)

SIDE NOTE: I am really good at basketball. I am not good at shots, layups, defense, and dribbling, but I am good at arguing bad calls so that my team can get the ball whenever we want. Honestly, I do not know any basketball rules. I just make them up and say that I read it on NBA.com so people believe what I say.




Everyone was having a great time playing a fun game of basketball. It was our ball and I dribbled down the court. This is what the situation looked like.

The distance between me and SC is approx. 3 ft.

Knowing that SC cannot see very well, and me being a nice guy, I passed the ball to SC very slowly. So slow it actually just rolled on the ground so that only he could receive the pass. SC tried to grab the ball but missed! Poor fellow. And the ball rolled out of bounds. Unfortunately, SC was not able to see that the ball had already gone out of bounds.


So he tried to save it.


And so he dove.


Headfirst.


In to the bench.


Luckily, SC only acquired a small cut on his face. But the damage had been done. There was a violent uprising against me since I "caused" the accident. I tried to explain myself. I tried to tell them that it wasn't my fault.

 

Everyone is walking away.

No one would listen. All I ever did was pass him the ball! Why doesn't anyone ask for MY side of the story?! And WheelchairDude did not help this cause. He grasped this opportunity like "a roaring lion seeking to devour [me]." (1 Peter 5:8) He is spreading many fibs and have been eluding the people of the truth. Because of him, there have been mixed reactions among people who have confronted me.

Friend: Dude. Why would you do that. He can't see.
Me: I JUST PASSED HIM THE BALL!


SC: WHY DID YOU DO THAT. WHYYY.
Me: .....


Out-of-towner: Hey, aren't you the guy that punched SC in the face because he beat you in basketball?
Me:  what.


SC's mom: >:O!
Me: ..... (-.-)



So basically, many people think I am a terrible person who beat up handicapped people. That is a lie. Only MikeLim does that. I am not terrible. I am nice. One time, I fed WheelchairDude because he has no hands. This proves my niceness.

I will like to say once again to the rest of the world that I never punched SC. Nor have I pushed him in to a bench. He did it. Him. Not me.

Bongsa.

I love to do bongsa. All the time. Unlike MikeLim* who fibs about his hours. Anyways, it has been the reoccurring event where I am separated with the guys and end up with the older sisters. Sometimes I am lucky enough to have another brother be put in to my group so I actually have a partner. Usually when I am alone with them the conversation goes like this.

Them: Hugene, you are so big when your parents are so small!
Me: (uneasy laugh) yes.
Them: How tall are you?!?!
Me: I'm not sure. Around 6 feet? (uneasy laugh)
Them: Oh ok.
Me:.....
Them:.......

Usually this conversation is followed by an awkward 15 minutes of silence. Then the older sisters start talking about which mart has the best sales and why I should be drinking sulfur water to get rid of all my pimples. One older sister even sprayed sulfur water on my face when I wasn't looking. She is very cunning.

But luckily, this time, another brother was sent to my car group filled with older sisters. Let's call him, say, I don't know, Jae*. Jae is a pretty cool guy. Probably the coolest. Probably the only.... coolest. Anyways, it felt good to have him be my bongsa partner. We finally get to a house and it is our turn. So we go out. And we find....

Koreans love their Jindo

The dog was guarding the front door.

Jae: Woah. That dog looks vicious!
Me: It should be ok.
Jae: Eh.. I think I'm just gonna stay here.
Me: Sigh~ fine. I will go by myself.

And I felt so proud that I could do something and be unafraid when Jae could not. So I valiantly walked up to the front door.





Then I stepped in dog poop. 


*Names may or may not have been changed. Most likely not.

The start of a new blog.

This is the start of a blog that will probably end up being lame and not funny at all. But creating a blog has been on my "Things to do before I die" list and it seems like my time is short. These blog posts, along with some pictures, will accurately portray my life as Hugene - the guy with the worst life. Maybe you will be sympathethic. Maybe you will laugh. Maybe cry. Please do not cry. Maybe you will feel empathy. Your reaction is not important to me. What is important is that you see what it is like...

   

to have the worst life.