365 Days of Working with the Elderly

So, I have been working at the same facility as a Speech Pathologist for a year now. It has been quite a year, as many of you have read from my previous blogs. In honor of closing in on a year, here are some quotes from my patients.

“My great, great, grandparents were slaves in Lithuania”

Now, to understand this one, you really have to understand the context of the conversation… there was none. I swear that this man just told me this piece of information as if he was telling me what he had for breakfast before he showed up. This is what amazes me about my job. People will tell me anything. So naturally, I ask as few questions as possible.

“I wish they had smaller cups in restaurants”

I wrote about this one in an earlier blog. Why the fuck should they shrink the size of the glass for you? This one still amazes me. We’re going to shrink the glasses so that you can take the exact number of sips and not have any leftover water. Its alright lady, the fish will survive. Stay hydrated out there.

“I’m going home to hopefully have a sexual rendezvous with my wife”

To be honest, I don’t remember who said this. I write all these quotes down in my notebooks, but I don’t put names next to the quotes. Figure I owe these people at least that. They are paying my salary. But whatever, kudos to this man still getting it on.

“I’m 70 years old and I’ve never told a lie, I’m a girl scout”

The funny part about this one is I’m pretty positive she’s not lying. She literally is a girl scout. She’s queen of the goody-two shoes. I don’t want to say how old she is, but that’s one hell of a long run of telling the truth.

“How’s your hearing?” “what did you say?”

I’m sitting in the office with my patient and his wife. His wife is complaining that he can’t hear her. This patient starts arguing saying that his hearing is fine. I interrupt him and ask, “how’s your hearing?” He answered, “what did you say?” Classic mix-up.

“Did you have nookie?”

My girl scout patient asked me this when I told her my girlfriend was in town. She was literally smiling and giggling like a school girl.

“Yesterday they had free wine at the club house, I went down and drank a whole bottle.”

This guy had wine stains on his shirt while spewing this. So, I’m fairly certain he crushed that bottle of wine.

“Oh look, I’m bleeding”

Several of patients have said this to me. The most recent occurrence, the guy wiped it off his arm and then shook my hand. Like what the fuck is that, guy. At least don’t wipe it on me. How am I supposed to straight face you until you leave? Get the fuck out of here.

“I shook hands with Donald Trump at a house party in the hamptons 40 years ago…Douche”

This guy is my favorite patient. Always ruthless. That’s the thing I have in common with old people. I say literally whatever my brain is thinking.

“Mr. Vincent, what’s that thing on your forehead”

So, two things wrong here. First off, several patients asked me this one day when I had a giant pimple on my forehead. What the fuck do you think it is? Second, why do people call me Mr. Vincent. Does that even make sense? I introduce myself as Vincent. Why would I want to be called Mr. Vincent?

“I go dancing 3 times a week, this one woman, she really likes to dance right on top of me”

This guy is just the happiest guy in the world. It’s unreal that someone can be that happy after being on this earth for that long. That sounds super cynical, but it is interesting when you find someone who isn’t bitter.

“It’s my wife” as he shuts his flip phone shut and doesn’t give a fuck

His phone starts ringing in the middle of the session and he reaches in his pocket to grab it. He opens it up, looks at it, and sees it’s his wife. He looks up at me and says, “it’s my wife” and shuts the flip phone. 50 years of marriage and the guy is still a fuckboy. The flip phone made this so much better.

“My son is a fat fuck”

This lady was explaining why she was late for her session. Savage mom.

“It’s always good to be a tad bad”

She was responding to me when I told her to have a good weekend. She always tells me to not be too good, because I won’t have any fun.

“Pretty good, although its hard being pretty and good”

Every morning I would ask him how he was doing. This would be his response. Everyday he would laugh at this, as if he had just come up with the greatest joke on earth. He left the clinic for about a year and then came back. I asked him how he had been this year. Guess what this guy’s response was.

And here are a couple more that are all very similar, but very mean.

“You must really hate your job,”

No, I don’t but thanks.

“You must get pretty bored doing this,”

Doesn’t everyone get bored at their job? I have to be excited about listening to the same story you told me 20 times already? Sorry, not today.

“Do you even like doing this,”

Well, I’m fucking sitting here talking to you, aren’t I?

And my very favorite, “What are your going to do after you’re a speech teacher?”

After I’m a speech teacher? This is it man. You’re looking at it. There isn’t an after. I didn’t just walk in here and apply like it was a McDonald’s. He thought this was like my summer job. I’m not saying its brain surgery but I did have to show up to class and get a degree.  

So here we are, one year in Vegas this coming Tuesday. I sit and think sometimes about where I’m going to keep finding things to write about. But all I have to do is sit there and wait. Because remember, if you look hard enough, you’ll find an idiot in everyone.


People of the Streets

So, recently I visited the city of San Francisco, old Saint Frankie, if you will. It was only an hour flight from Vegas so I figured why not. I landed on a Friday night and I was basically planning on just exploring the city. Well let me tell you about the homeless people in San Francisco. Its a real problem. They’re everywhere. I’m not sure if San Francisco is working to fix this problem but they’re a day late and a dollar short. You can’t walk anywhere without people yelling at you, casually trying to bump into you, or just eerily staring at you like they’d eat you. Where the fuck did all of these people come from anyway. Do they just know that this is where homeless people all come to live? Is there some sort of homeless people online chat where they all tell each other where the best places to live are? Possibly coming soon “homeless tinder.”

I understand that San Francisco is probably a great place for a homeless person to live. The weather seemed mild and the people even milder. No one seems to care about what anyone else is doing, which is great on one hand, because you know social equality and what not. Which just to be clear, I’m not shit talking social equality. I’m shit talking the clear lack of care that the streets you live on are filled with people living in tents. Nobody cares and people are constantly giving them money. There are so many of them, how can people afford to just give away all their money to the homeless? Its unreal.

Unfortunately, I had a lot of different questions answered that I didn’t really even need to know the answer to. First off, homeless people do not have to abide by the same laws as everyone else. They can yell slurs and deal drugs right out in the open and everyone ignores it like its two pigeons squawking over a piece of bread. I asked someone what they do living here with all these homeless people, and he said, “Well everyone just ignores it, its not really a problem.” JUST BECAUSE YOU IGNORE IT, DOESN’T MEAN ITS NOT A PROBLEM GUY. Its a real problem.

Second, the social activists who are also running rampant throughout San Francisco are just as bad as the homeless people, if not worse. The homeless people will ask for money. That’s fine I get that. I can keep walking and basically ignore anyone. The social activists are clean normal looking people and when one of them asked to talked to me, I obliged. She told me all about how I can help and be a part of their cause to which I answered  “Hell yeah, what can I do to help?” To which she responded, “give me some money.” Everyone up there wants money. This girl didn’t make it easy for me to walk away. She made me feel bad that I have all this money hoarded away that I’m keeping from the refugees. Little does she know, I’m a college graduate with just a bit of debt piled up. She wants me to donate 2 dollars a day. 2 dollars a day?! I gave up coffee because I couldn’t afford 2 dollars a day. You want my help planning something, I’m in. But I’m no fucking philanthropist. I asked her how much money she was donating and that was when she realized she wasn’t getting any money from me. So just like the homeless people, she grumbled and trudged away.

Third and finally, I learned that everyone has to wipe after they go to the bathroom. Even the homeless people. Even if that means wiping right in front of a public garbage pail. The first guy I saw, pants around his ankles, awkwardly squatting with his knees bending outwards, wiping back-to-front with a newspaper, I swear I tried to look away. I tried not to look back but it was just too bizarre not to. I literally felt like I was in bizarro world. A twilight zone where the rules for bathrooms aren’t around anymore. Anyway, this guy and I made eye contact on about his third wipe and he became EXTREMELY angry. First, he kind of had that look in his eye, the one your dog has when he catches you watching him take a shit. But then rage filled his eyes. He literally started chasing after me while trying to pull his pants up. It was the scariest couple seconds of my life. He was calling me some terrible shit. Like you n***** and f*****. Not the ‘f’ word that I use either. I was just so flabbergasted. He was like, “GET OUT OF HEREE!” as if I just walked into the bathroom on him. Take it easy guy, this is a public fucking street you’re shitting on. Its not like I had to open a door to see this. I don’t care how homeless you are, you have to know that’s not my fault for seeing you wipe your own feces onto a newspaper. The worst part was, this was a busy-ish street, and not one person said anything to me. Not one person was concerned. So, I thought that was weird San Francisco. Like these fucks, will share their food, money, and drugs with the homeless people, but if ones chasing after a bald man, they all pretend like their blind to the world. So fuck that.

So,  San Francisco was overall “fun” as you can see. I would go back, not specifically for any of the aforementioned reasons, but you know sight seeing and good food. Oh yeah, my last night there, I saw another person, this time a woman, wiping her ass back-to-front. Big mistake lady. Get with the program.

Quitting the Gym

So, have you ever had to quit a gym? It’s worse than breaking up with your girlfriend. The manager or owner always tries to make you feel terrible about the situation. Like, you come to the gym to see them, not because its conveniently 1 mile from your house and exercising can be somewhat important to your health.

Friday, I had to quit my gym because I’m moving to the other side of town. Honestly, I thought this woman was going to cry. She is always so happy to see me. Every time I come in, she tells me about her day and when I leave she always says, “Alright Vince, see you tomorrow.” Which, I may add, is quite the subliminal message to keep me coming back to the gym. Its almost like because she says that, I keep showing up the next day.

So, I explain that I’m moving to the other side of town and ask whether or not there is another location closer to my area. The manager/owner or whatever she is, immediately starts questioning me about why. I explain to her my reasoning and this is when the fun part happens. This is when they start coming up with completely irrational and inconvenient ways for you to keep coming. Keep in mind, where I moved is about 13 miles from the gym and where I work is about 15 miles. So, first she says, “why don’t you get a mountain bike and ride it here? That will save you gas and you’ll get exercise.” I literally laughed at her and said, “I’m only 1 mile away right now and I still drive here. Once I’m here I ride the bike for a total of 20 minutes, and maybe ride 5 miles?” AND even that’s a lot.

Her next unreasonable explanation was to join the gym on the other side of town, which is 19 miles past my job and house. She warranted that it was okay because, “It’s a beautiful drive.” I ask, “how many times you think it takes me driving it for it not to be beautiful anymore?”

So, finally, she asks that last question where you know she’s all out of reasons, “so, there’s nothing I can do to get you to stay?” I answer her question with a pretty generic response, although, somewhat passionate, “Its not you, its me.” She does not find it as amusing as I thought she might, and just stares at me for a second. Finally she turns away and starts explaining the quitting process to me. I should have told her, “You know what?! The jerk store called and they’re running out of you!” But just like George, I’m always just a little bit too late.

Ultimately, she unshackles me from the gym membership and I feel like a newly single man. I get to go try a bunch of new gyms and not feel bad about hurting my old gym’s feelings. The saddest part about quitting was when I left the owner didn’t say she’d see me tomorrow. My membership doesn’t end until Friday. So, unfortunately, I will see her a few more times. She did remind me Friday, that I could keep my key card, just in case I ever want to come back. And that, ladies and gentleman was about the most pathetic thing that anyone has ever said to me.

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

So, two weeks ago, I went on vacation to this place called Punta Cana. Punta Cana is an interesting place. Well, actually, I never saw Punta Cana. I stayed at the fuckin’ Hard Rock; which is essentially America plopped right in the middle of this place suffering from poverty. But getting past that, this was the first time I’ve ever been somewhere all-inclusive. So, let’s get something straight here. There seems to be absolutely no rules in this place. Everyone just seems to yell until they get there way. I’m very used to that mentality, but seeing so many people do it, I couldn’t even bear to do that this week. So, I went with a “casually be at least tipsy the whole weekend and let everyone plan everything for me” mindset.

So, this leads me to the actual story, which I was not tipsy for. It was later at night. I was what you would call, “lit up like a Christmas tree.”

While we were there we met this girl at the hotel. She was quite scary. We won’t use her real name so, we’ll just call her… Ashton. Have you ever seen the shining? This girl was one of the twins from the shining. Except she ate her fuckin’ twin sister. So, Ashton was really into one of the guys I was with on vacation. She was constantly looking around for us so that she could hang out with him. So, Ashton was wearing this dress one night. It was a “maxi dress.” If you don’t know what this is, you should google it. If you don’t google what it is, you might be completely lost the rest of the story. Definitely kidding, it really doesn’t fucking matter. It’s a long dress. Anyway, this girl was sitting there in this dress, and naturally I had to be an asshole. What else was I supposed to do? I looked at her and said “you know I would look ten times better in that dress.”

So, obviously I thought we’d never find out who looks better, because obviously, I’ll never have that dress on. Here is where things took a hard turn for the worst. Miss Ashton said, “then put the dress on.”

In my head now, is the battle between Pride and Dignity. If you’ve ever had this battle in your head, then you know that Pride knees Dignity in the balls and Pride comes out on top.

So, I said, “fine give me the dress then.” This girl takes off this dress like it was a sweater and the sun just came out in the middle of July, except she had nothing underneath. Just took her tits out. We were in a bar with at least 5 people that I was with, and, I don’t know, upwards of 50 people that we didn’t know. So, this girl has her tits out and just her thong on sitting at the bar. But, really, who am I to judge? I already had my shirt off and I was standing there in a long dress and my underwear, like Mrs. Fucking Doubtfire. So, here we are, me, obviously bouncing my ass up and down in the stupid dress like an asshole, that I literally wish I could wear everyday; and this psychopath, shining girl is next to me, tits out, in my Charlie Sheen bowling shirt. These are the moments where you look around and you wonder, “When the fuck did we get ice cream?”


So you must know that the clubs in Vegas are really popular. I go to the club every other weekend, more specifically, Sam’s club. I was in Sam’s club on Saturday morning and I walk in, grab a shopping cart from outside, and I start looking at some of the watches they have right when you walk in. I’m standing there for about 3 minutes when this girl walks up to me and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and say, “hey what’s up?” She looks me and asks, “did you just take my cart?” I laugh cause I thought she was kidding and respond, “uh, no.” She then asks me, “well then where did it go because it was just sitting right here?” Uhh I don’t fucking know, psychopath, even if I did take it, am I all of a sudden going to admit it now. So this time I stop laughing and in a very George Costanza-esque way I respond, “look, I didn’t TAKE your cart.” She continues to berate me and says, “well you’re the only one over here.” So now I’m mad obviously
So sarcastically, I tell her, “there’s like 20 people in this section of the store, I think you should just go get a new cart.” She says, “yeah, I guess I have to,” giving me a dirty look. And then again, feeling Costanza blood burning through my skin, I huff and say, “yeah I guess you do.” The rest of the time I’m in this store, this girl gives me dirty looks every time she sees me like I’m following her around.  This woman actually thought I stole her cart and lied to her face. Why on earth would I do that? Really thinking about it though, who the fuck walks into a Sam’s Club without getting a cart? I really hope the person that did steal psycho’s cart was standing there watching this go down. Honestly, I want to know why she left her cart long enough for someone to take it. If you leave an empty cart around for more than a minute, I’m pretty sure it’s fair game anyway. So think a little bit next time crazy lady. The Sam’s Club is no place to leave your things unattended.

Dry Cleaners

So I went to the dry cleaners the other day to get some of my pants done. Since I’ve moved here I have been starching all my clothes on my own. Outside of the New York City area, dry cleaning is outrageously expensive. Just to make this story clear, I brought my clothes in on a Monday. They didn’t tell me the price or anything obviously. But I dropped off three pairs of pants.

I went to pick them up on Thursday and I went around 7:15. They closed at 7 it said on the door. They were still standing in there folding clothes or whatever nonsense they do at a dry cleaners. I walk in and the girl says, “we’re closed.” I just told her, “I just want to grab some pants.” She responded, “No sorry we’re closed.” I kept my cool and just walked out. I can’t get mad at everyone, especially not a girl who looked like she was barely out of high school. If I’m going to argue, I want it to at least be fair.

So I return to the dry cleaners the next night…at exactly 6:59, just to be a dick. They actually didn’t give me a problem which was surprising to me (and also sort of a let down). I give her my name and she grabs me my pants and she says, “36.50 please.” 36.50! What the fuck are they doing to the pants for that kind of money. You might as well get a new pair of fucking pants. I say “What could possibly cost $36.50.” She said, “Well, we did an amendment” (at least that’s what I heard). I said,” An amendment! An amendment to what? The fucking U.S. Constitution?” She looked at me like I was a moron obviously. No they didn’t take any money off for “mending” not “amending.” Apparently I was a bit confused. Fucking $36.50 though. That’s actually insane. So, I will not be dry cleaning pants ever again. At least not for a few months. No Ragrets.

Lonely Brunch

So, on Sunday I had a pretty good hangover going. I decided to head over to this place for breakfast. I walked in and said I was just one for breakfast. The girl said she could seat me right away but then kind of just walked away. I stood there for about 5 minutes, which is really no big deal. But this place was packed, it was hot, and there were so many kids. So. Many. Kids. So I decided I was going to leave. So, I said to the girl, “Hey, sorry but I think I’m going to leave, thanks anyway though.” She gives me a dirty look and says, “well I was going to seat you right now.” I looked at her odd and said, “well I just kind of changed my mind.” She then tells me that if I leave and come back I won’t have my spot on the list anymore. I laugh at her and just respond, “I don’t understand, I’m not coming back, I don’t want to be on the list.” So, she just dismisses me and says, “well ok.”

Jerk off me, I decide to try the place next door, where I’m the only person in the entire restaurant. I sit down at the bar and no one is there. Not even a bartender so I was about to leave when finally, this guy walks out of the back. This guy with the longest ponytail in the world, smiling at me like he wants to lick my bald fucking head. So, I obviously think to myself, “what a fucking mistake.” Now instead of sitting in the hot room with the screaming children, I get to sit here with smiling ponytail man. I order a Bloody Mary. And the guy hands me a glass with vodka and tomato juice and says the Bloody Mary bar is over there. I’m the only person in the entire restaurant and I now have to get up, walk to the other side of the restaurant and make my own Bloody Mary? I get up and go make the stupid thing and sit back down. I order a salad with chicken. He asks me, “Do you want a sandwich instead?” What kind of questions is that. When I order a coffee, do they ask me if I want tea instead? No, of course not. He was like “well, the sandwich comes with a little salad.” No douchebag. I want exactly what I ordered. I don’t want something completely different and not what I asked for.

It’s incredible the planet we live on. Instead of sitting in the crowded hot place, I got to listen to this bartender’s sob story. He tells me all about how shitty Vegas is after I just told him I’m new here. Tells me how terrible it was growing up here and blah, blah, blah. Listen GUY, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around. Isn’t me, sitting at a bar alone, supposed to be the cue to the bartender that I get to complain, not him? Well I guess not. Anybody still reading this is essentially my internet bartender I guess. I say that as I pour myself a second glass of wine. So, thanks for listening to all my sob stories. Stay tuned fuckers.