Face/Off

Alright, I'm dating myself here (and also proving how truly tasteless I can be when it comes to movies) but did any one else ever watch that truly bad John Travolta movie (I know, I know, is there such thing as a good John Travolta movie?) Face/Off from about 1995 or thereabouts?

It involved some lame plot involving face transplants (thus, the clever name!), so I think there was the Good John Travolta and the Bad John Travolta, and a subversive plan to Take Over the World And Kill All The Good People or Kill The Good John Travolta, or his family, or shit, I don't remember. I thought the movie was stupid then, and don't ask why I went to see it in theaters, either. Any way, killing the good people is really quite shortsighted, because then who are you going to ensalve to pick your grapes and play the harp for you as you sit around and eat all those grapes. Evil people? They'll just try to to kill you or make you be their slave. Or Morlocks? Huh? HUH?

Okay, so we've needlessly wandered off into more over-charted territory of the B flick (namely, Planet of the Apes, which is now giving me a free-association movie moment about that Mel Gibson movie Ransom and (evil) Gary Sinese doing the Distorted Kidnapper Voice Thing and talking about how he's a Morlock [insert evil chuckle here].)

I'm not on illegal drugs, I swear.

Any way, I had a facial today. It felt sooooooo very good. But the disturbing thing was, as I was lying there, listening to New Age, pan-flute-and-seashore-noises music, having my face alternately steamed and shiatsued into a pleasant pulp whilst my zits were professionally picked at with what felt like a steel toothpick, I kept thinking about my patients, and whether or not I'm giving them good enough a.m. care. Do I protect their modesty enough with the towel layerage? Is the water warm enough? Too warm? Too cold? Do I rush over things because I've got three or four other patients who need me, too? Do I forget to comb their hair and brush their teeth and they're too afraid to ask because "they don't want to bother me"? Should I learn shiatsu massage or would that merely break their osteoporotic bones and cause them further skin breakdown? How about playing New Age music, or would that be too freaky? Should we have a meditation session after I give them a heparin shot in the morning?

Alright, so I didn't go that far, but I did start to do the downward-spiral-I'm-a-shitty-nurse thing. Again. In the middle of a facial for god sake!

So here I am, supposedly being pampered, the entire point of which is to not think about shitty work, and relax so I can go back and do a half decent job at work, and yet, I can't stop thinking about work.

I am warped.

Very, very warped.

Sometimes, I wish there was an on/off switch in my brain, or at least a slower/faster speed control. Then I could make a movie, Brain/Off. Starring me, on lots Versed and Fentanyl, or maybe even Propofal.

Man, I need to get a less stressful, more wholesome job, like maybe being a drug mule, or being a double agent for Canada, or fire-eating, or being a liason. I've always wanted to be a liason. It just sounds very sexy and French, and can mean any number of things, really. I could liase as a job description, and make up all kinds of nifty sounding crap for my CV. Kind of like I'm going to have to do now, actually, in order to get another job somewhere else, so I can continue my OCD trend of neurotic guilt and needless worry.