Why do some people just have no sense of humor? I recently was sick for over two weeks. I mean I was on the couch for the first week completely laid up and the second week I was just barely able to function.
After 10 days of sickness I could no longer hear, had a 12 hour coughing fit and had used a full box of Puffs Plus in less than a day, so I figured it was time to go to the doctor.
The receptionist answered the phone and asked what I need to be seen for, I cough out the words I need to be euthanized. Dead silence.....WTF I know I didn't call Dr. Kevorkian's office. So I follow it up with I think I am dying I have been sick for over a week. She never acknowledges any of my wit and just tell me to come in at 2.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Food for thought
It was brought to my attention today that I have an odd habit. I don't think it is a bad habit or even one that will annoy anyone (I hate smokers, people who read signs out loud to others and people who point out the obvious) it really isn't even seen by other people only my family.
I watch The Biggest Loser more religiously than I attend church (I know that is bad). Every Tuesday night my rump is adhered to the couch for the full two hours. Now you are thinking this isn't odd a lot of people have favorite shows. Well the habit is that while I watch this show I eat an absolute enormous bowl of ice cream with brownies in it. So yes while these heavy people are having melt downs and falling off tread mills, eating nothing but lettuce and fish, I am consuming a desert the size of something you would find at Old Country Buffet (another thing I hate is Buffets). This habit has brought stress to my life. The other night at 7:00 pm I went to make my brownies and had no eggs, thank goodness for good neighbors! She saved me by running me over two eggs so I could get my fix.
Last Tuesday I went to our local grocery store in the evening and bought 3 half gallons of ice cream and a couple boxes of brownie mix. The woman checker asked if it was for something special I said heck yeah it is Biggest Loser Night! Every day can be something special, you just have to make it that way.
I watch The Biggest Loser more religiously than I attend church (I know that is bad). Every Tuesday night my rump is adhered to the couch for the full two hours. Now you are thinking this isn't odd a lot of people have favorite shows. Well the habit is that while I watch this show I eat an absolute enormous bowl of ice cream with brownies in it. So yes while these heavy people are having melt downs and falling off tread mills, eating nothing but lettuce and fish, I am consuming a desert the size of something you would find at Old Country Buffet (another thing I hate is Buffets). This habit has brought stress to my life. The other night at 7:00 pm I went to make my brownies and had no eggs, thank goodness for good neighbors! She saved me by running me over two eggs so I could get my fix.
Last Tuesday I went to our local grocery store in the evening and bought 3 half gallons of ice cream and a couple boxes of brownie mix. The woman checker asked if it was for something special I said heck yeah it is Biggest Loser Night! Every day can be something special, you just have to make it that way.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Is think before you speak only for the young?
Why are old people allowed to just say what ever is on their minds? What gives them this right? Do they really just get old and their brain filter shuts off or is it a sham that they are pulling on all of us? Do they get a flier with their first social security check that tells them they can now just open their mouths and say what ever and no one will stop them cuz they are old. I personally can't wait to be that age. I am going to rock the retirement home. I will be the old lady with lots of lipstick and no filter, bring it on. My husband does very extreme sports and has no fear, plus he has a family history of heart disease so I am pretty much guaranteed to be living alone in my golden age.
My good friend Jersey Girl has a beautiful curly headed, blonde daughter who is absolutely perfect. She is in her late 30's and plans to have no more children, one perfect one is enough why take your chances. She has a very dear woman in her life name Julie. Julie is almost 90 and still lives alone. Julie never had kids and has pretty much adopted Jersey Girl and her family as her own. Julie believes that Jersey Girl must have another child. Now I am sure we have all heard the horrors of only children and how awful they will be, but this isn't Julie's point of why another child is needed. Simply put Julie told Jersey Girl she needs to have another baby in case the first one dies. Got to have a spare I guess.
When my first husband died suddenly in 1997 I was 22 years old. At the funeral I was a mess. After the service ended people started coming up to me and his family hugging us and giving condolences. Toward the end of the line came a very old, old woman all hunched over and dressed in her very dark blue dress. I have no clue who she was to this day. She comes up to me and gives me a huge hug, she was so kind. Then she pulls back pats me on the back and tells me it is okay honey you are young and pretty you will find another husband. Wow thank goodness I was pretty, replacing him was going to be a snap.
I know people mean well but for some reason old people seem to get away with a lot more than your average big mouth person.
My good friend Jersey Girl has a beautiful curly headed, blonde daughter who is absolutely perfect. She is in her late 30's and plans to have no more children, one perfect one is enough why take your chances. She has a very dear woman in her life name Julie. Julie is almost 90 and still lives alone. Julie never had kids and has pretty much adopted Jersey Girl and her family as her own. Julie believes that Jersey Girl must have another child. Now I am sure we have all heard the horrors of only children and how awful they will be, but this isn't Julie's point of why another child is needed. Simply put Julie told Jersey Girl she needs to have another baby in case the first one dies. Got to have a spare I guess.
When my first husband died suddenly in 1997 I was 22 years old. At the funeral I was a mess. After the service ended people started coming up to me and his family hugging us and giving condolences. Toward the end of the line came a very old, old woman all hunched over and dressed in her very dark blue dress. I have no clue who she was to this day. She comes up to me and gives me a huge hug, she was so kind. Then she pulls back pats me on the back and tells me it is okay honey you are young and pretty you will find another husband. Wow thank goodness I was pretty, replacing him was going to be a snap.
I know people mean well but for some reason old people seem to get away with a lot more than your average big mouth person.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Is it really the thought that counts?
While having a couple drinks with friends the other night I was reminded of a moment from my past that still bothers me.
A few years back, when my mother in law was still on speaking terms with our family, I got the mail one day at the beginning of May and in it was a Mother's Day card to me from her. Not to surprising right??? Well this particular year not only was no gift included with this card (as had been in the past) this card was made out to me in my maiden name.
My husband (ever the optimist) told me I should be happy she thought of me. I am still bent on this one. Am I justified? Was it an innocent mistake? Maybe I am just too up tight.
A few years back, when my mother in law was still on speaking terms with our family, I got the mail one day at the beginning of May and in it was a Mother's Day card to me from her. Not to surprising right??? Well this particular year not only was no gift included with this card (as had been in the past) this card was made out to me in my maiden name.
My husband (ever the optimist) told me I should be happy she thought of me. I am still bent on this one. Am I justified? Was it an innocent mistake? Maybe I am just too up tight.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Why I started drinking after dinner
Today was a big day in our house. Our oldest daughter got her driving permit. She hasn't set it down since leaving the DMV.
After dinner was done tonight all four of us were sitting around talking. My older daughter announced she had learned hand signals today in her drivers ed book. Immediately my younger daughter (9) yells out ME TOO and flips off her sister.
After dinner was done tonight all four of us were sitting around talking. My older daughter announced she had learned hand signals today in her drivers ed book. Immediately my younger daughter (9) yells out ME TOO and flips off her sister.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Is there a doctor in the house?
As I was driving by a local hospital on the north side of town yesterday I saw a very interesting site. On the curb there was a thin man sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. Now that may not seem odd at all but the fact that he was wear FULL scrubs including booties, hat and face mask (which was pulled down onto his chin) made for a very interesting site. This reminded me of a story from 2006. Before I get to the story may I just ask what this guy was in scrubs for?? I should hope he wasn't just grabbing a quick smoke then heading back into surgery. Maybe he was protecting himself from all the white trash that generally surrounds that area. I don't know but for years to come this picture will be in my mind. Also, is anyone else wondering how flammable scrubs are? I would have seriously crapped my pants if a stray ash lit up his face mask and he went up like a torch. I wouldn't have helped either, I would have just rolled down my window and yelled "smoking kills asshole" and kept going.
In the year 2006 my dear friend was celebrating her one year wedding anniversary with a trip to Mexico. To protect the identify of all I will only be referring to her as Jersey Girl and to her fine husband as Big Head. Being the good friend that I am I quickly invited my husband and I alone for the festivities. Many great memories were made on our 7 day stay. I am sure I will post more of them as time goes on. Today I want to just relay to you the story of the bladder infection.
After a night filled with tequila shots, buckets of beers and the discovery that Jersey Girl and I, if forced to live the lives of lap dancing bar girls, would quickly form a union for lap dancers (since it is hard work and the songs are at times way to long to make for a good lap dance) we headed out into the night with our drunken husbands. After walking a couple hundred yards I decided it was now time to pee since I tried my hardest to avoid the Mexican public bathrooms. While squatting by a palm tree (doesn't this just sound tropical!) peeing I got a sharp pain. After discussing this pain with Jersey Girl it was decided I was developing a urinary track infection and needed some juice, thank goodness for mixers cuz our fridge was loaded at the condo. After a run in with a scary mob of locals, an embarrassing cab ride home in which my husband mortified me with our fellow cab riders (another story) we made it back to our place. By the time I got in I was SICK. I was shaking, had a fever and was peeing blood. Jersey Girl and Big Head had gone to bed and that left my wonderful husband to care for me. He decided quickly (between sucking down Corona) that I needed the hotel doctor to come see me so I could get some medicine. Lovely husband went to Jersey Girls room to borrow the English to Spanish dictionary. While waiting for the doctor to arrive I laid in bed crying while my sweet husband looked up symptom words in the faithful dictionary so he could tell the doctor what was going on. After about 30 minutes there was a knock at our door. My soul mate goes to the door to let the doctor in. I hear the doctor ask what was wrong and all my husband can tell the doctor is "my wife's vagina is broken' Holy crap do you think that doctor wanted to turn tail and run? Was he thinking stupid Americana's and their promiscuous ways. I quickly righted myself in the bed and calle out that "no it hurts to go to the bathroom!". My dear husband leads the doctor in to me and no joke he is wearing a full face mask (no gloves just a face mask) and carrying a tackle box. WTF, did they call him straight in from the tuna boat? I have never been to the doctor in the states many times and never had some guy wander in with a golf club in hand. The doctor spoke fairly good English so I was able to tell him what was going on. At this point he opens his tackle box and low and behold it is his medical kit. He proceeded to bang on my kidneys and take my temp. He then tells me I should go to the hospital to get fluids. OH HELL NO. Two place I wont go, Mexican jail, Mexican hospital. So in the end the ungloved, masked wearing "doctor" gives my husband a list of drugs to pick up at the pharmacy and he takes his tackle boxes and leaves. Well that little visit cost us $120 cash on the spot and we learned later that you don't need a prescription for drugs in Mexico, I could have just walked in the pharmacy and bought what I needed. Live and learn.
In the year 2006 my dear friend was celebrating her one year wedding anniversary with a trip to Mexico. To protect the identify of all I will only be referring to her as Jersey Girl and to her fine husband as Big Head. Being the good friend that I am I quickly invited my husband and I alone for the festivities. Many great memories were made on our 7 day stay. I am sure I will post more of them as time goes on. Today I want to just relay to you the story of the bladder infection.
After a night filled with tequila shots, buckets of beers and the discovery that Jersey Girl and I, if forced to live the lives of lap dancing bar girls, would quickly form a union for lap dancers (since it is hard work and the songs are at times way to long to make for a good lap dance) we headed out into the night with our drunken husbands. After walking a couple hundred yards I decided it was now time to pee since I tried my hardest to avoid the Mexican public bathrooms. While squatting by a palm tree (doesn't this just sound tropical!) peeing I got a sharp pain. After discussing this pain with Jersey Girl it was decided I was developing a urinary track infection and needed some juice, thank goodness for mixers cuz our fridge was loaded at the condo. After a run in with a scary mob of locals, an embarrassing cab ride home in which my husband mortified me with our fellow cab riders (another story) we made it back to our place. By the time I got in I was SICK. I was shaking, had a fever and was peeing blood. Jersey Girl and Big Head had gone to bed and that left my wonderful husband to care for me. He decided quickly (between sucking down Corona) that I needed the hotel doctor to come see me so I could get some medicine. Lovely husband went to Jersey Girls room to borrow the English to Spanish dictionary. While waiting for the doctor to arrive I laid in bed crying while my sweet husband looked up symptom words in the faithful dictionary so he could tell the doctor what was going on. After about 30 minutes there was a knock at our door. My soul mate goes to the door to let the doctor in. I hear the doctor ask what was wrong and all my husband can tell the doctor is "my wife's vagina is broken' Holy crap do you think that doctor wanted to turn tail and run? Was he thinking stupid Americana's and their promiscuous ways. I quickly righted myself in the bed and calle out that "no it hurts to go to the bathroom!". My dear husband leads the doctor in to me and no joke he is wearing a full face mask (no gloves just a face mask) and carrying a tackle box. WTF, did they call him straight in from the tuna boat? I have never been to the doctor in the states many times and never had some guy wander in with a golf club in hand. The doctor spoke fairly good English so I was able to tell him what was going on. At this point he opens his tackle box and low and behold it is his medical kit. He proceeded to bang on my kidneys and take my temp. He then tells me I should go to the hospital to get fluids. OH HELL NO. Two place I wont go, Mexican jail, Mexican hospital. So in the end the ungloved, masked wearing "doctor" gives my husband a list of drugs to pick up at the pharmacy and he takes his tackle boxes and leaves. Well that little visit cost us $120 cash on the spot and we learned later that you don't need a prescription for drugs in Mexico, I could have just walked in the pharmacy and bought what I needed. Live and learn.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Is that your official diagnosis?
My good friend took her little two year old to urgent care last night for a fever that had gone on for a few days. I always feel bad when I see a child sick and since I had watched this little girl several days ago I now feel guilty that I probably somehow made her sick, yet another time my inner catholic flares up.
This trip to urgent care reminded me of a time I took my youngest daughter to urgent care a few years back. My daughter has had chronic ear infections since five months old. On this occasion she had been running a fever for days and as a precaution I took her in on a Sunday afternoon (a precaution because heaven forbid a mom takes a Monday off with a sick kids without some bastard man at work whose wife stays home with their kids being mad you missed work and then giving you the stink eye). Generally when she was running a fever an ear infection would come on fast and on numerous occasions had led to her eardrum rupturing.
When the doctor called us back he was an older man and super nice. He did the general stuff with her, looking in her ears, her throat, listening to her chest. I told him of her past with the ear infections and her having had tubes at one point. He told me she didn’t have an ear infection just a bug, which was a big relief to me but I was pissed cuz instead of being in the dirty urgent care I could have been napping on a nice Sunday afternoon. We talked about her ears having ruptured before and then he gives me a look and asks if she was of Norwegian descent. Him being an older doctor having been around the block a time or two, I think he has some deep medical secret of some genetic link to her ears. I tell him no I don’t believe she is of Norwegian descent but I am not sure since both my husband and I are just a mix of everything. I ask do Norwegians have ear problems. He looks at me and says no she just has a really big round head so I thought she might be Norwegian.
I paid my co pay and left.
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