Monday, October 31, 2005



Boy, did I miss you guys!

I sent in my proposal this afternoon and now I can finally focus on something else. Hooray!!

Happy Halloween, by the way. And speaking of the dead...BOY, do I have a lot to tell you guys. I've got at least three posts for tomorrow, but for now I'm going to drop into bed and get unconscious for a while.

Sunday, October 23, 2005


11:29 a.m.

Hypothetically, there was a 10-year-old girl who was walking along the side of the road one morning. She was on her way to church, which was just down the street. Her parents were already there.

Hypothetically, some depraved, horrible person hit this little girl with their car. The child went sailing into a ditch..broken and battered, but not dead. But that bastard driving the car didn't stop. For some godforsaken reason, they didn't stop. And that little girl sat in a ditch in 40 degree weather...conscious and suffering for over an hour before her parents found her.

Hypothetically, the little girl was rushed to the hospital where she died a short time later from exposure and internal bleeding.

It's been a rough morning, bloglit. Hug your children if you've got them.

Friday, October 21, 2005


2:45 p.m.

I was on call last night and I finally got to sleep around 1am when my beeper went off. The message said, "Call Jamie frm..."

That was it.

So I sat there in a half-asleep daze for about 10 minutes wondering who the hell Jamie is and why they didn't give me a damn phone number to call. Finally, my brain kicked in and I called dispatch. They gave me the proper information and we all lived happily ever after.

Well, some of us.


I am working on the proposal. Six days and counting to deadline. Several chapters are completed in the book.

Stinky Jimmy got demoted to a regular investigator probably because of the nasty email he sent the corporate office (and forwarded to all of his supervisors) telling them what evil bastards (that was a quote, Mom) they are.

Which, I suppose, is why I got a regional position with my cover some of his territory.

Jimmy called me late on Wednesday night sounding susupiciously drunk while I was still in California visiting Light-Haired Man. He wished me luck and told me to watch my back. That's two of my former bosses that have been demoted. I think that perhaps I should ride this wave just a little bit further before bailing.

Damn. I'm going to miss Stinky Jimmy in Boston on Monday and Tuesday. Him breathing on me and making me pass out from the stench was the only thing that made those supervisor meetings tolerable.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Light-haired Man and Polly in an entirely inappropriate little black dress. Wait. That sounds like we're both in the entirely inappropriate little black dress. Bugger! Posted by Picasa
Jeff and Jackie...and some buggering Brit's hand.... Posted by Picasa
The happy Weasels sharing Italian on Friday night. Posted by Picasa
It's Higgy! He's now my new favorite Brit...replacing that saucy little Prince William, of course. (Higgy taught me a new word. Bugger. I am using it as often as I can. Bugger the margaritas! It's all buggery!) Posted by Picasa
No lie...this chick went swimming in a huge blender full of Margarita before dancing wet on the ledge. Now THAT takes talent, my friends... Posted by Picasa
Dinner Saturday night at Margaritaville. Posted by Picasa
Makin' paakes on Saturday morning... Posted by Picasa
Mad Scientist and Weasel on our fancy night on the town. Posted by Picasa
Higgy, Weasel, Mad Scientist and Polly on a quest to molest statuary...No statue escaped. And judging from the pictures I'm not posting, it's a good thing statues can't file charges for sexual harrassment. Posted by Picasa

Sunday, October 16, 2005


And you have to admit that "PollyPI" is a pretty rare last name...


I am terry jessy A Staff of Chartered bank Nigeria Limited.

We are conducting a standard process investigation on behalf of our
The international Banking conglomerate to reach either the relations or
anyone wanting to stand as the next of kin to late
Mr.Anderson PollyPI a nationality of your country with and also the
circumstances surrounding investments made by this client at FEDERAL
REPUBLIC OF NIGERIA.with the Private Banking arm of Chartered Bank Of
Nigeria PLC.

This Private Banking client Mr.Anderson PollyPI died intestate and
nominated no
successor in title over the money with the bank.

I decided to trace his last name over the Internet, to locate any
member of
his family hence I contacted you.I have contacted you to assist in
repatriating the money and property left behind by this client before
get confisticated by the federal Government after being declared
unserviceable by the bank where this huge deposits were lodged.

It is pertinent that you inform me ASAP if you are interested and
seek a very honest and reliable person.
You must appreciate that I have constrained from providing you with
detailed information.

At this point. Please respond to this mail as soon as possible to
afford us
the opportunity to proceed to the formalities as soon as possible.

Thank you for accommodating our enquiry.

Mr Terry Jessy
Please Reply to my private email address

Wednesday, October 12, 2005


10:13 p.m.

Remember how I figured I was going to be fired from my PI job? Well, slap my a$$ and call me purty...they just offered me a regional supervisor job!

Here I thought you had to work hard and be enthusiastic to get ahead in life, when in reality you just have to give a lackluster performance and exhibit extreme apathy while threatening repeatedly to quit. Lesson learned. The squeaky wheel DOES, in fact, get the promotion.

I should be excited... but then again I work for Hell, Inc. and I'm not sure how I feel about descending the corporate ladder into the bowels of everlasting damnation.

Speaking of damnation... I have to be up at 3am to get to the airport for my 6am flight to VEGAS. Woo hoo! I'll be sure to take plenty of pix.


9:17 a.m.


We are stupid, silly creatures and something needs to be done about it.

*replaces ice pack on crotch*

I made my next appointment for two months from now.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005


4:54 p.m.

Tomorrow morning at 8:30 a.m. I am getting my very first bikini wax.

I feel like a virgin on her wedding night.

Only I doubt it will be quite as pleasant.

Unless it's a real disaster of a wedding night.

That is all...


9:08 a.m.

So, I'm outside of a doctor's office right now. I have spent the past two days following a guy that is supposedly very, very injured in his left hip. He was doing yard work yesterday with hardly a limp. This doctor's appointment was actually set up by the insurance company to set him up for me.

I decide to bring a random 4-year-old kid with me while I'm undercover today so that I won't raise suspicion in the waiting room. (Who's going to suspect some lady with a child of spying on them, I ask you? What kind of a crappy parent would bring a kid on surveillance?)

I take random 4-year-old's hand and counsel him as we walk into the building. "Remember, kid, this is not the same thing as lying. This is 'pretext'. Big can't go to hell for pretext."

We are there early and the office manager is really cool about accommodating me when I tell him what I'm doing. He even shows me the back door so that I can sneak out after my Subject gets called into his appointment.

So I'm sitting on the floor and random 4-year-old and I are playing with a pathetic collection of snot-covered toys when my Subject walks in. Oh, my goodness. He's grunting and limping like the Hunchback of Notre Dame without the hunchback. It hurts to watch.

I get some good video from my spy purse and then slip out the back door. Now I'm waiting for Igor to leave his appointment and we'll see where he goes from here.

Sunday, October 09, 2005


2:35 p.m. If you love me, send me your spare Valium.

Here's my schedule for the past couple of days:

Wake up 3:30 a.m. Surveillance until 12:00 p.m.

Take 1 1/2 hour nap in McDonald's parking lot before starting another surveillance at 3:00 p.m.

In the MEANTIME, I go on call for the ME's office from noon until 4:00 p.m. Overlap..not good. Hoping nobody dies.

Surveillance lasts until 7:00 p.m. because I lose the guy in Chicago traffic. This is the second time I lost this guy. The client will not be happy. Too tired to care.

Grateful nobody died Friday afternoon.

On call with ME's office from 12:00 a.m. until 11:59 p.m.

Get called out to a scene at 3:30 a.m. for a guy who fell and hit his head. Pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt. Brush teeth. Look in mirror. Wonder why I am doing this to myself. Go to scene. Upset family. I end up deciding not to bring the guy in because the fall was from him dying..not the other way around. He was a very sick man. I call the family doctor to make sure he will sign the death certificate. Doc says he's down with that. Cool.

At 5:45 a.m. While heading home, I get called by dispatch again. This time on a hospice case. Don't have to go out since it is a natural death and they are just reporting it to me.

At 5:50 a.m. I get home, grab a few things and leave for surveillance of the guy that I lost last night. I drive by his house. No activity.

At 7:00 a.m. I come home. Sleep. Yes.

At 11:25 a.m. Wake up to beeper. Another case. Hospital ER death. Guy had a significant medical hx so I turn him down and tell the ER to contact his family doc to sign the DC.

At 11:30 a.m. Pack up and drive by guy's house again. No activity.

At 1:00 p.m. Come home. Sleep. Yes.

At 2:00 p.m. Wake up. Work on proposal. Get a few more pages done.

At 4:30 p.m. Get showered and dressed for a date. Fall asleep during movie. Wonder if the guy minds that I drooled on his shoulder.

At 10:30 p.m. Come home from date.

At 10:45 p.m. Talk to Light-Haired Man on phone.

At 11:45 p.m. Go to sleep.

At 4:30 a.m. Wake up. Check email. Find out the surveillance I'm supposed to go on this morning has been postponed. Hooray!!! Go back to bed.

At 11:25 a.m. Wake up, again. Good lord. I almost slept for 12 hours. I remember that I am on call again for the ME's office in a half hour and take a quick shower...brush teeth.

At 11:45 a.m. Panic attack. Overwhelmed. Eight million things to do. Three reports for the ME to write. Several cases to reassign for my PI job and two cases to write up. Proposal to write. And I have to clean my house so that I can call the landlord to come fix my heater that isn't working and the toilet I broke a couple weeks ago.

At 11:35 a.m. Call Light-Haired Man. Break down in tears. Tell him I'm going to jump and I mean it.

At 12:00 p.m. Gather up my papers and my computer and go to the diner down the street. Set up at a booth. Work and drink tea. Eat food. Oh yeah....forgot about food. Food is good.

At 2:00 p.m. Come home. Feel much better. Will be speaking in complete sentences again in no time.

I miss you guys. I will come up for air again really soon.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Thanks to Jeff Meyerson for sending this from the BoucherCon (mystery writer's conference) yearbook. I always had a thing for goats... Posted by Picasa


Dearest Bloglit,

Well, it's time to get tough on my procrastinating self.

I've imposed a personal deadline of Oct 25 to finish my proposal. Until then I probably will only make an entry into the blog every other day since I am also working two jobs and have a lot of personal life stuff to deal with, too.

That is unless something irresistable happens, like my boss drops another body or Stinky Jimmy quits or I get called down to New Orleans...

And, of course, Vegas next weekend.


Tuesday, October 04, 2005


Well, I don't have to worry about humiliating myself by relaying my Saturday escapades with Dead Guy to people at work.

Why? Because when I was driving home from the grocery store tonight I got a call from my boss, Nancy.

I answer the phone, "Hey, lady boss. How are ya?"

"Shitty." (It's a quote, Mom.) "I dropped a body and I can't get him up."

"You mean he's fallen and he can't get up?" I snigger.

"Uh..yeah." Nancy obviously has no sense of humor right now. "Is there any way you can come over here and help me?"

I lament the melting ice cream in my trunk. "Sure. No problem. Give me five minutes."

I sigh as I get off the phone and turn the car around.

When I get to the MEO I flash the magnetic strip of my ID card across a security pad to open the bay door. I walk through the receiving area and onto the hated ramp that leads to the autopsy suite/cooler. Nancy is there at the bottom along with her charge.

As I assess the situation I quickly note that there is a law of physics that was seriously violated here. I'm not sure which one, but it will definitely be rubbing it's arse for a while after this fiasco.

Dead Guy has an enormous belly and chicken legs. He also weighs upwards of 325 pounds. When you try to maneuver a guy of those proportions down a steep ramp with his hefty end first,'s gonna end badly.

Dead Guy is still securely strapped onto the cot. Only the cot is now tipped up on one end so his head is on the floor and his feet are up in the air. Oh, dear.

Nancy's eyes are a little wild. She looks like she's on the brink of doing something unfortunate. She says to me..."There's a lesson here. Don't EVER put the heavy end in front when you're moving a body down this ramp." I try with every fiber of my being not to laugh. Yeah. Just FYI.

First Nancy and I both get up on the foot side of the upturned cot and bounce on the bar between the wheels. No good. Between the two of us we weigh maybe 250 pounds. It doesn't even budge.

Next, we lower the wheels on one side, but because of the angle, the wheels on the heavy side are stuck. The only way to "unstick" them is to put Dead Guy further up on his head and pull the legs of the cot in so that we have him prone on the floor.

This works and now all we have to do is use our brute strength to lift the Dead Guy from the floor to an upright position suitable for transferring him onto a tray. Nancy gets her end up okay, but I am apparently a 98 pound (or so) weakling because I need help getting my end (the feet, no less) up.

I resolve to go to the gym three days a week, at least, and lift weights.

Anyway, we get him up and eventually on the tray. Nancy opens the bag to see what kind of damage was done to Dead Guy after being dropped on his head and then left that way for a half hour, give or take.

His head is rather purple seeing as gravity sent the majority of his deoxygenated blood supply to his head. The good news is there is no visible head fracture, though he did bite into his tongue...which resulted in some external bleeding.

Nancy is positively distraught. "Great. Dr. Frank is going to love hearing about this. 'Um... Dr. Frank, you may find some head know... It's postmortem so... No big deal, right?'"

I laugh despite myself. "Nancy, are you being sarcastic?" She appears to want to hit me, but I poke the angry bear despite my better judgement. "Hey, I don't see him complaining." She narrows her eyes.

I decide to give some sage advice. "Nancy, we are all going to drop bodies in life...It's what you do AFTER you drop the body that determines the kind of person you are."

I run before I get smacked upside the head.

Sunday, October 02, 2005


10:52 p.m. Well, I brought in my first body on Saturday. I'll tell you all about it when the case is closed and the information becomes public.

What I can tell you is how interesting it is for a 118 pound woman to move a 275 pound man from the ground to a cot, into a big ol' van, and then from the van to a tray at the morgue. All by myself. Well, sort of. I have some nice cops that help me get the guy on the cot in the first place. But after that it's all me.

This is the only thing about my new ME gig that I've worried about. I have never had to transport bodies before and I'm kind of a small woman.

I am doing alright until I get back to the morgue and try to pull the cot out of the truck. It won't even budge. Figures. I start to panic a little. I would rather do just about anything than suffer the humiliation of calling in another investigator to help me.

So, anyway, I'm outside the bay doors at the morgue and I quickly realize this is not a "lift with your knees" situation. I have to pull straight out. So I brace my left foot on the bumper of the van and try again. Still no love.

Finally, I get up on the bumper and use both feet and arms to bring the stretcher's wheels to the edge of the doors. Then I jump down, grab the cot, and depress the lever to extend the legs. There are a few "Oh, fudge, I'm gonna drop him" seconds there when all of the body weight is on me. I am about to drop the guy but then hear the "click" of the back legs just in time.

I continue to pull out as the front legs extend. I have to push down so that Dead Guy is up on two wheels and sort of jerk the cot up and down a few times before the front legs lock. I wipe my brow with my forearm. Phew. So far so good.

But I'm not out of the woods yet. The genius who designed this facility decided it would be a really good idea to build a steep RAMP from the receiving area to the cooler/autopsy suite below. So here I am, pulling back on the cot and hoping to hell that my feet don't slip or I accidentally lose my grip because if I do, Dead Guy will end up speeding down the ramp and flying through the plate-glass window that is located directly in front of me. Which I would like to avoid even though, admittedly, it would be pretty funny in a twisted "Weekend At Bernie's" kind of way.

So, Dead Guy and I get to the bottom of the ramp and I am feeling pretty smug. Now all I have to do is get him on a tray. I try the cooler door. It's locked. Huh. I press a button by the cooler door and a red light goes on. I try the door again. Still locked. I quickly press the button again and the red light goes off. I look around to see if my random button pushing didn't trigger a silent alarm or turn off the cooler or something. Looks okay.

Then I remember that the cooler key is hidden along the frame of the door. I feel along the top of the metal lip until I snag the key. This reminds me of trying to break into my house when I lock myself out. We should get one of those fake hollow landscape rocks and put it by the cooler so we can hide the key there. I giggle at the thought as I open the cooler and grab a low tray, figuring that it'll be easier to get Dead Guy on that than a big one with a rim.

Hmm. This will be tricky. I look at the cot and back at the tray. Then I move Dead Guy up against the wall and put the tray right up parallel to the cot. I reach across the tray, grab a handful of body bag, and pull. Nothing.

I must think this through. I can't get leverage from this angle. I am obviously too low. And the only way that I can think of to get higher is to climb onto the tray and pull from there. So, I climb up and just as I begin pulling on the bag again I realize I forgot a very important step. That would be locking the wheels.

As I pull, the tray starts to move toward the cot. Which obviously surprises me so my automatic reaction is to push away. Only then the tray moves away from the cot and I am left straddling both...with the lower half of my body on the tray that is now four feet away and the upper half sharing the cot with Dead Guy.

So, the cot starts to wobble toward me and I have to do something fast or I will find myself in a pile up. I let go of Dead Guy's body bag and roll onto the floor in a most graceful manner. (Trust me.) I lay there on my back for a minute...a little stunned. But only for a minute because we're having a little maggot problem and I'd rather not be fishing them out of my hair.

After some trial and error, I finally get Dead Guy on the tray and into the cooler. I take off my latex gloves and turn off the lights as I walk back up to the receiving bay.

Boy, do I miss Dwight.