I try, in my own way of course, to write semi-coherent posts. Not today, but whatever, it’s Wednesday.
This morning I went to the doctor’s office. Actually, our insurance is set up where you have to visit a health center, and they in turn will refer you to wherever it is you need to go. What total bullshit. I could have taken care of everything over the phone if it wasn’t for their stupid damn rules. Instead, I had to go into the office – aka The Big Ass Germ Factory – during cold and flu season, and hold my breath the entire time so as not to breathe in any of the germs floating around the air. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And why is the temperature set at sub zero at every doctor office? By the time the damn physician’s assistant came in I was blue and my teeth were chattering.
On a separate but distantly related note, I also need my tear ducts plugged. I have dry eyes, and it’s so bad I can’t leave my contacts in for very long without them drying out, which means I have to literally peel them from my eyeballs. It sucks. But, I’m too nervous to actually let the optometrist put in the plugs, instead choosing to suffer. Eventually I will suck it up and git-r-done. Until then I wear my contacts and complain. My husband does not understand this at all, and constantly tells me to put on my glasses, which I hate, are not the right prescription, and they’re scratched to all hell. So yesterday before work, he went with me to pick out some new frames.
Me: What about these?
Husband takes one look and shakes head, then hands me another pair.
Me: Do I look like an owl?
Me: I think I do.
I try on another pair, to which my husband shakes his head no again.
Me: Why? What if I turn my head like this?
Now, I don’t know why it would make a difference if I turn to a three-quarter profile, because it isn’t like I’m going to walk around like that in public. Anyway, repeat the above about a hundred times.
I finally narrowed it down to two pairs, and then I tried on each one about twenty more times for my husband.
Me: What do you think? This one or this one?
He answered dutifully every time (the same answer, mostly, so I don’t know why I kept asking, but it’s the way I am). He’s a very patient dude. So kudos to you babe, because if you had done that to me I would have walked out of the store and left your ass there.
And now for things that have nothing to do with doctors, but somewhat to do with eyeballs.
It has come to my attention (by my man) that I use the word douche, or some derivative of it, entirely too much. Which is somewhat ironic considering he’s the one that used to say it frequently, and it was from him I picked it up. When he subtly let me know about my over-usage, I ignored him. This morning, however, I decided to ban douchiness from the vocab, because I heard it used several times on Glen Beck’s radio program. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, politics don’t belong on this blog, so don’t get all Judgmental Jerry on me. As it happens, I think Beck is a douche, and also a big fucking crybaby. In fact, he got all chocked up over some nonsense this morning. But my car is an old piece of crap – it doesn’t have an ipod dock, or a cd player. It has a tape deck, which means I listen to the radio. And since all radio stations pretty much suck ass, I listen to talk radio, and Glen Beck was on while I was driving.
So, husband, you win. No more douche, but I need some suggestions for a replacement word.
And finally, I leave you all with this: