The Bloggess, Liquor Store Doctors, and Leprosy
Welcome to the sixth episode of WTF Friday at 3 Monkeys and a Martini!
As you may know, there has been a no-pants saga which has recently ended due to the purchase of several ill-fitting pairs of Target pants. Hey, they may be too long and they may Add-A-Dick-To-Me with their lumpy crotchness, but they are pants. And they are all mine! Muuhhuuuaaahha!
It is truly amazing what a pair of pants (and a new sweater or five) can do for your self esteem. I've even showered in the last two days! And I plan to go out of the house... in public... to buy food. And I am not even going to go to Walmart. "Whoa, slow down! Don't get crazy on me," you may be saying, but my new pants have created a monster. I may even slap on some mascara and bronzer. Look out Mr. Martini, I am on the prowl. Meeoow!
But seriously, I think my Target pants have helped me become somewhat acceptable. Or at least not toxic. I say that because I woke up to this in my in-box this morning:
Her highness The Bloggess, follows me on Twitter! WTF? Have I made it or what? Nevermind she follows like 18k other people. And nevermind she will never read my blog. And nevermind the fact that this will never result in a dime in my pocket. It is still pretty damn awesome. I still think pants are overrated, but maybe, just maybe, these new pants will open some doors for me.
Speaking of doors...
Aside from that nugget of awesomeness, I have been feeling quite crappy. I went to a "doctor", which is an indication of the seriousness of my feeling of crappiness since I only go to a doctor when a human being begins to protrude from my vag. This "doctor" was actually a Voodoo Priestess/nurse practitioner/wholesale meat distributor whose office was located in the back of a liquor store. Hey... I have a high deductible. I gotta do what I can to save on healthcare costs.
So I see this woman right after a man with what appeared to be leprosy jumped off her examining table. I tell her my ear hurts. I have a sneaking suspicion she has yet to wash her hands as she grabs a used Kleenex to wipe off her ear-looky-inny-thingy. I am fairly certain at this point my ear is going to hurt a hell of a lot more in the days to come, judging by the left-over ear on the floor from the leper guy who just left. I tell the kids to cover their mouths, and for all that is good and holy, do not touch ANYTHING! As a reward for good behavior, you will receive a Purell bath upon exiting this facility. Hope you have no open wounds.
Turns out, all the backaches, headaches, coughing, swollen glands, and ear pain are benign symptoms of nothingness. See, there is clearly nothing wrong with me. Silly me. "Use wam compress on both side of head. Gargol wit sal wotor" she says. Gargle with frickin salt water? What, am I Amish? What the frig ever happened to Zithromax? I came here for one thing, and one thing only. Drugs. And judging by your clientele you have access to the good stuff. Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme.
So yesterday I spent the bulk of the day on the couch with a heating pad pressed up against my ear, one of those self-heating backache wrap things tied around my neck, a bottle of Tylenol stuffed in my bra, and I guzzled sal wotor once an hour until I puked. And guess what? I still feel like crap.
Ironically, I just received a follow-up call from said Voodoo-meat distributor nurse. I said I still feel like crap, and consciously coughed into the phone. Her response, "Oh... take cuple mo day to feel bettah." Thanks. Bitch.