Good versus Goof versus Great

A friend's typo in a comment on a funny fb conversation between husband and wife:  You good balls!  (Auto-correct making jokes again!)
Me helping out, as usual:  I Googled this and found a Little Known Fact™ for ya.  I'm sure you've heard the catchy old song many times without knowing that it was originally called (goodness, gracious) GOOD Balls of Fire.  The label insisted on the change before the album was ever recorded, stating simply:  If you're a straight man in America in the fifties with the balls to go around singing about balls, you better be singing about GREAT ones!
Also, prior to the invention of cameras and prostate exams, the proper greeting from a young brave to a respected male elder was: (loosely translated) Good balls to you, to your ancestors, and to your descendants.  (And also, they had to put some ointment on them if the old guys couldn't reach.)
P.S. I used to fill out mad lids with a friend at work and we'd do theme rounds.  Hands-down favorite?  Inserting the word BALLS in every blank.  (I miss my old work friend.)

(Guest Host) Pretendra: shame on me (in which I discover that I've mis-judged a person based on appearance)

***WARNING***THIS POST IS SERIOUS***
I've spent many years and countless hours interacting with people whose behavior served to reinforce stereotypes projected by their appearance.  A change occurred in me, and new walls went up,  so gradually that I didn't even know it had happened.
When I saw a muscley young white male, covered in tattoos, with an altered level of consciousness, and vital signs strongly indicative of illicit drug use, overdose, and/or withdrawal, I didn't mean to think twice about it.  In my line of work, this whole scenario is pretty common, and I've been proud of myownself for understanding that drug, alcohol, and even nicotine addictions are powerful and often devastating to those who suffer (yes-SUFFER) from them.  
Concerned family members frequented his bedside at every opportunity, and I wondered vaguely if one of them had discovered him unresponsive, how many times they had been through this with him before, and how many times they would be willing to repeat it before giving up on him.
For seven nights I marched back and forth, past the glass doors that separated him from me and the rest of the world, past the doors that proved completely ineffective against condemnation.  He lay there for seven nights, alone, critically ill, in all likelihood frightened and in pain, unable to communicate his feelings or needs, yet I pitied him not one bit.  I did not feel the pangs of empathy or concern that I usually feel, and I continued to make silent assumptions regarding his character.
My own shortcomings allowed me to look at this PERSON, this fellow human being, repeatedly, without SEEING him, without caring.
A great shame filled my heart when I admitted to myself what I'd done... Who or WHAT had I become when I wasn't paying attention?
It makes no difference whether the conclusions I had drawn were correct (they weren't), or that he will never know I had drawn any conclusions about him at all because his care and treatment would not be affected (they weren't).  
Life-altering moments are more common than they seem, but it's up to us individually to summon the courage to go all the way through the glass doors, receptive to the growth and change waiting for us on the other side.         
That young man will never know how big a role he played in rescuing me from ever-increasing apathy, leading me back to the path of universality of the human condition, and giving ME another chance to be a better person. 

(Guest Host) Pretendra : For Lack of a Knack for Communication

My "favorite" language misuse is something I read in charts CONSTANTLY.  I've given up trying to convince anyone that they shouldn't write this.  It used to make me laugh; it just makes me sad now.
Patient AROUSES easily.
Patient DIFFICULT to AROUSE.
It is true that an occasional patient may become AROUSED during the course of care and treatment.  This is usually accidental, always ignored, and is NEVER encouraged. 
If one attempts to AROUSE a patient, one is acting inappropriately, immorally, and most likely, illegally!
If one elects to keep at it long enough to determine whether a patient is IMPOSSIBLE to AROUSE, rather than merely DIFFICULT to arouse, one is very dedicated and in need of either psychiatric assistance STAT, or a career change (fluffer comes to mind), and maybe a good lawyer.

The Double AH *see first: AH*

Apparently it was an unforgivable offense that I didn't finish scribbling on the two unofficial pieces of paper shoved at me yesterday, neither of which affects individual or company performance or productivity in any way. 

Kelso brought it (rudely) to my attention at the very beginning of the next shift, as if the omission were somehow an act of premeditated, gross misconduct.  My response was essentially:  My bad.  I was taking care of my actual WORK obligations.

And then I heard a set of words one never expects to hear in the American workplace.  THE set of words that earned Kelso the first ever Double AH distinction.

Kelso actually said the words:   You need to make sure all your paperwork is done before you eat or go to the bathroom.

He's like a double AH.  Literally, the anus of a donkey.

AH

From the (sadly) True Work Files

Out of one person's persistently arrogant, dictatorial, anti-social workplace behavior arose a need for a way to (cheerfully) acknowledge the absurdity of the situation in a way that could be utilized in anyone's presence, yet still allow for the vocal expression of one's own exasperation.
Thus, the word (and sound) AH took on new meaning, and Kelso became the very first one.

Turning Botulism into Profit! (from the facebook files)

Me: When stocking up for hurricane season, dented cans may SEEM like a bargain, but your savings will be negated by your medical bills once your botulism fully develops.
Me (again): If you can't resist a dented can, you can test for safety by feeding the contents FIRST to your least favorite family member or pet, and then watching them closely for symptoms.
(still) Me: Whether they survive or not, you may be able to make home-made Botox to sell door to door in your neighborhood. If you already HAVE a meth lab up and running, this will be surprisingly quick, easy, and profitable. So, I GUESS I need to go back and retract the advice about not buying dented cans.
Hula Hoops: wat are the symptoms n is it fatal?
Me: My only REAL information about botulism came from a Trixie Belden mystery I read when I was younger, and it was EXTREMELY fatal in that particular case. I think.
Hula Hoops: ok well i was jst wondering in case i wanted 2stock up 4 some dinner guests lol
Me (later that same day): I was halfway done with my very first batch of Botox (and oh SO CLOSE to a new career) when Ponytail up and told me this can's extremely boring dent story. So we went ahead and just ate the fake Botox for lunch.

(Guest host) Pretendra: And that's how my other new ex-friend didn't bother to try to not kill me last night.

I don't know about you, but when I'm about to start in on a task that may leave me or my clothing soiled or splattered with anything other than my own sweat or tears, I don appropriate personal protective equipment (officially, if not affectionately, known as P.P.E.).  These articles may include gloves, masks, shoe covers, and/or gowns, depending on the anticipated exposure.  I prefer to err on the side of caution, so I use a whole LOT of it!  By the by, for me, it's more a lifestyle choice than a work-mandate.  I guess I have OSHA to thank for making it both.  It is true that I would live in a Haz-Mat suit if they were both comfortable and affordable.
I might not be the smartest monkey in the zoo, but I do know that if you bathe somebody (that you are not currently the parent, extremely CLOSE relative, or "partner" of) RIGHT, you will need to at least cover your clothes and your hands.
So, after I gather my supplies (gotta do that first because I AM the most warm-blooded monkey around and the cover-ups are SO hot!), I don all my P.P.E. and begin to position the equipment (in this case, a specialty bed) for my convenience (translation: I wanna get outta there as quickly as I can!).  On certain beds, each wheel has a brake that must be individually manipulated in order to move the bed, as well as to "lock" it in position.  Since these wheels rest on floors, and are hardly easy to access, I get on down there.  I discover a grouping of wires of unknown origin or purpose hanging under the bed near the top left wheel.  As the aforementioned bed has been working adequately, I (of course I do-I'm nothing if not predictable) casually move the wires to see just what the heck is going on.
A few sparks and a singed disposable gown sleeve are all it takes to remind me of the obvious folly of taking electrical (literally) matters into my own hands (also literally).
I make a mental note to put in a work order for this equipment before I leave, and to NOT GO NEAR the live wires again, but I must first complete this task I've already started in on.  I assign myself a safety ally by way of notifying a co-worker of the situation, and requesting she check on me if I'm not seen for a while and/or if she smells anything burning, etc.  Task is completed without further incident.
Scene change:  Shift ending.  Ask secretary if maintenance routinely comes in on Sunday or if they only do so if called in for emergency.  I learn that multiple calls were made YESTERDAY concerning this very problem, and then my new EX-friend (I'll refer to him here as "Trip") appears and says: Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that!  Yesterday, my SHOES LIT UP! 

And that's just one way to make ex-friends at work, Trip, by not bothering to try not to kill your co-workers.