blondieenyc

Unfortunately at 5 a.m. Christmas morning I did not show up to a hospital that looked like this.  Instead, it was this:

My father, aka HOT STUFF, scared the living shit out of me when he woke me up at 4:30 am with his hand over (what appeared to be) his chest.  I started freaking out, crying hysterical, woke up everyone in the house, dialed 911, downed a shot of vodka, did the whole nine yards.  Turns out, it wasn’t a heart attack.  Rather it was his stomach.

After getting to the hospital around 5 am…it took them about an hour-and-a-half for a nurse to come over and hook up his IV, which was thanks to my ass complaining and threatening those stupid workers wearing reindeer ears to come over and help.  Before I get ahead of myself, let me backtrack.  Let me tell you my favorite, or rather, greatest moments of my time in the hospital Christmas morning.  If you ever need to laugh, going to the hospital on a holiday morning, WILL work best.

-Since I was practically the only sane person in the room, the nurse gave me the lowdown.  The above picture actually makes the guy who I’m about to talk about look outstanding.  The guy in the hospital was decrepit.  He lives at the hospital and refuses to leave.  He also had extremely long, dirty, toe nails with liver spots everywhere on his body.  The ENTIRE three hours I was there, all I heard was “ehhh! Somebody! Somebody! Helppp mehhhh…What time is it! I need my wife!” after he continuously allowed himself to bang his pee bucket on the nurse’s counter to grasp her attention.  Everyone just walked by him except for my mother the saint who will talk to anyone even if they have one leg and are pissing down their pants.  He looked like an extremely frail and out of it Santa Claus, but that didn’t stop my Grinch heart from shooting nasty ass looks in his direction. 

-The drunk latina girl next to me.  At one point as my father lay there screaming in agony and holding himself underneath his left boob, some bitch in the next curtain over started breathing extremely heavily.  EXAGGERRRRRATED.  “Ay, ay, ay, ay!” was all my mother and I heard in this bizarre Spanish accent.  Unfortunately, I did not get a look at this gem of a lady.  Although my mother assured me she had a really bad eggplant dyed hair job.  At one point the doctor’s came over and told her to calm down and then the breathing and “ay, ay, ay” starting getting even worse.  We overheard that bitch was extremely drunk.  The doctor at one point yelled,”What is your problem!” to which she responded, “HE MY PRRROBLEM.” We learned a couple of seconds later that she pointed to her boyfriend to which he pulled up his baggy jeans, waved his hand over as to say “through with you” and walked out.  We assume it was a beating sesh 30 minutes prior to getting there.  Booze and bruises merry christmas.

Then there was me:

Actually, that’s my dad the night before (Christmas Eve) with a pina colada, but that’s how I looked at the hospital when I became displeased with the service.  I basically went over to the nurse’s station, interrupted their MySpace pic taking fest, and demanded some help.  Squeezing my dad’s foot for two hours to get him to sleep just wasn’t working for my ass any longer.  Some doc said they were sorry, they were busy…hell to the no.  60% of the beds were unoccupied and figuring out which pic to default on MySpace does not constitute as “busy.” There was also some jackass running around with reindeer antlers and Santa Claus slippers.  I think I said that earlier, but that’s what pissed me off the most.  The hospital on Christmas morning is NOT pleasant and no matter how many doctors and nurses in reindeer antlers, NOBODY but decrepit old man I met wants to be there at that time.  Those antlers and slippers don’t make it any better.

Turns out, there was nothing they could do but give my old man some Percocet.  I was contemplating downing the entire bottle.  Doped up, restless Chantal on Christmas would have been pleasant. I then rushed home to watch a little bit of the 24 hour A Christmas Story marathon before opening up my grateful gifts and passing the fuck out for an hour.  Not to mention, this was the same day I had to go and meet my boyfriend’s extended family. 

I’m sure I looked wonderful.  I’m sure they’re also telling him to run far as we speak.  Kidding! Anyway, it was an enjoyable Christmas.  Hope yours was half as good as mine.

Also, the star of the show Christmas Eve was most definitely my brother.  And as payback for hassling me the past few years, I present to you some pictures and a classic video.  Triggering your inner Justin Timberlake and then realizing you’re on video doing it is more than a happy holiday.  Here’s my Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah to him:

Last, but SURELY not least:

God dammit! I can’t post YouTube videos anymore! CLICK HERE—-> http://fr.youtube.com/watch?v=QLCYSUwFNjQ

swear it’s worth it.  Next stop: my drunk ass on  NEW YEARS.

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