Celebrity Janitorial Services

Today was a good day.

Most of you know already that I had to go on a pick-up to the LA Coroner's today. Lindsay Lohan was there, sentenced to doing community service. Basically, she was performing janitorial duties until her hours are complete.

So, this is how the day progressed. From what I was told, she showed up to "work" in completely inappropriate attire. So, she was forced to change into a plastic jumpsuit, and put plastic covers over her shoes. That is how I saw her dressed when I arrived. As ugly as her attire, and all of that bad weave piled on top of her head...she still was rather stunning, and had a presence about her.

I was there for about half an hour. Within this time she managed to get into trouble with the officer that was "supervising" her twice, imagine how the rest of the day went. First, she was giving total attitude and talking back to him...to which he stated "I can go straight to the judge and tell her about your behavior." And a few minutes later, he took her phone away from her because she was not doing her work. I thought it was pretty funny.

This is how my conversation with Lindsay Lohan went:

Me: Hey, how's it going?

Lindsay: How do you think? It stinks in here.

Me: Next time, ask if they can send you to the Ventura Coroner's, it's a lot nicer, and it doesn't smell.

(Insert officer laughing here)

Lindsay: *Scoff* followed by some under her breath muttering, and then the officer yelled at her once again.

So, there you have it. A glimpse into my day. I hope you enjoyed my brief interlude with Lindsay Lohan.

Pass the wine...

Case #1538-B

(Not an actual case #) (Names have been changed to protect the dead).

It was late, Samantha had a long, rough day at work. Her boss had been down her throat about finishing her project on time, she left in a hurry, only to come home to an ungrateful husband and 2 unruly children. She longed for the time when the kids would be fast asleep and her husband would be passed out on the recliner with a half empty bottle of scotch on the nightstand beside him.

Samantha climbed into the bathtub, candles flickering around her, water just about to slosh over the edges and onto the white tile floor. Glass of red wine in hand, hair pulled back, but wisps falling down into the bath water, she turns quick bursts of hot water on and off with her big toe. She sinks under the water and tries to empty all the thoughts racing through her head. She comes up for a breath of air, completely relaxed.

Once Samantha's glass was empty, she knew it was time to get out and get ready for bed. She steps out of the tub, dries off, slips on a red silk robe and grabs her glass. She pours herself another drink. She goes onto the balcony of their master bedroom on the second floor. Wind blowing in her wet hair, she leans on the railing and drinks her wine. 

Sounds like a relaxing evening doesn't it? Well, by the time I arrive, Samantha is laying on her back, robe untied, half in a bush and half on the pavement, the smallest amount of blood is coming dried under her nose. 

This is where things got interesting. According to some, there was a fight between Samantha and her husband. The fact that she was lying on her back did make sense if she was pushed over the balcony. I mean who jumps to their death backwards? And who tries to kill themselves on a 2nd story? The success rate seems rather low. 

Others say that Samantha simply had too much to drink, slipped and went over the railing...I'm no detective, but it seems questionable to me. 

Either way, if you're jumping off a balcony, aim for the shrubbery, because pavement isn't too forgiving on the skull. Talk about a splitting headache.  

Take My Breath Away

Case #4137-C

(Not an actual case #) (Names have been changed to protect the dead).

Curtis McQueen was only 24 years old. I had known him since I was a child, though we were never close by any means. Years down the road, we ran into each other while I was running errands. I did not speak to him, and I do not think he recognized me, but I did notice something unusual about him...Curtis had markings and bruises around his ankles and wrists. I laughed to myself thinking he liked things spicy in the bedroom, and I pushed the thoughts aside. 

I couple weeks later I received a call to go into work. I arrived at the location of the body, and right away I knew it was Curtis. He laid there on the ground, naked, in an awkward position like he had been posed by an artist. Come to find out the cause of death was erotic asphyxiation. Curtis had placed the tie around his neck, tied it to the bed post, leaned forward and was pleasuring himself when he lost consciousness and choked himself to death. The coroner had come in, and cut Curtis down, and placed him on the floor. He was naked with a tie wrapped around his neck like some kind of bachelorette party stripper. My eyes drifted down his body like I was admiring a painting. I noticed beads, they looked like a rosary, wrapped around his privates. I was slightly amused, regardless of the situation. 

I got him onto the gurney and headed back to the office. I wheeled him in and started preparing the body. I had to remove the beads, tie, countless earrings, 2 nipple rings and placed everything in a ziplock marked with his name. His story had come to an end.

I understand people wanting to spice up their sex lives, but when dealing with this sort of thing, you need to be wary.....or have a spotter.

To get 'a head' in life

Case # 3652-C

(Not an actual case #) (Names are changed to protect the dead)

Do you ever imagine what it would be like to die in a horrific car accident? Marcus Welby never thought his life would end so tragically. On the bright side, I would imagine he didn't suffer much.

Marcus was a 27 year old film student. He was cruising down PCH in his convertible, music blaring and bluetooth in his ear. Driving erratically, he failed to notice the 18-wheeler ahead of him coming to a stop. Marcus slammed on his brakes, but to no avail, he slammed into the back of the truck. The metal sheering off the hood of his new convertible, going through the windshield, and finally, taking off his head. His bluetooth still attached to his ear, flashing that blue light.

I get a call to go pick Marcus up from the coroner's office. I go through the usual processes: paperwork, identify the body, gather personal belongings. I put the gurneys side by side, no clue that he is decapitated. I go to move the body, and his head rolls right off of the table. It's going to hit the floor, and for some reason I am worried about it smashing open or some other unsightly consequence. I instinctively put my foot out to break its fall...and then think "what the hell did I do that for?' I pick the head back up by the hair, like a mom picking up her kitten by the scruff of the neck. I put it into the body bag and zip it up. I head back to the office.

This incident prompts me to share a vital piece of information with you all. If you are going to rear end an 18-wheeler, or any other type of giant truck, do me a favor, actually do yourself a favor. RECLINE YOUR SEAT!! Seriously, put your seat back as fast as you can and save yourself the pain of having your head chopped off. You probably won't escape total injury, but it will save someone from having to wander up and down the road trying to find your head.

So, take my advice.

New beginnings....

So, now this will officially be my first morbid entry. A glimpse into my life, my job.....

Case #2738-A

(Not an actual case #) (Names have been changed to protect the dead).

It's my first day on the job....well, not my actual first day, but my first assignment alone

My assignment? Fight my way through traffic and absolute horrid directions to the coroner's office.  Michael Jorgensen, a 47 year old overweight man, who in a past life may have been good looking. Now,  all I see is a weathered, wrinkled face far beyond his years, due to alcohol abuse. A look on his face which, though bloated and macerated, lets me into a small corner of his depression.

I get all the paperwork taken care of. Unload the gurney from the van....let the door shut behind me so I have to walk around the entire building again. Open the heavy door to the refrigerator...the familiar oder escapes into the hallway. I walk down the rows of gurneys, checking all the toes tags until I find the man I have come searching for. I wheel him out into the hallway and line him up with my gurney...

Brakes?.....Check.
Personal belongings?......Check.

I start with the feet, and slide them from his gurney onto mine.
I grab his shoulders....then I see it...but it's too late. I feel a cool, think liquid running down my leg and between my toes.

 My shoes....man...I liked those shoes.

Apparently Michael wasn't a very happy man. I imagined him sitting in his recliner, with cheap whiskey in one hand and fingering the cold steel trigger of his gun in the other.

He had put the gun up to his temple and solved all his problems right there.

Before I had a chance to step away, brain matter, skull fragments, CSF, blood, and embalming fluid had found their way down my legs and into a nice, sticky, slightly chunky puddle in my shoes.

I strapped him onto my gurney, put his gurney back in the fridge, cleaned up the floor and hosed myself off in the bathroom.

I returned to work....processed the body, did the paperwork and showered, making sure to loosen all of the sticky clots from between my toes.

............

There you have it....your first look into my life.