Emo Kids

It's just one of those Fridays today.  Busy morning, dead afternoon.  I've been sitting here listening to the a/c running in the office for the past hour. I even attempted to convince my boss over the yahoo messenger that leaving early today would be a good idea.  I told him us girls already took a vote on it.  He just sent me back a mad face, so I just assumed that was a no.

Ben and I are going to see Toy Story 3 tonight at The Paramount in shoot-em-up Kankakee.  I would enjoy going to this theater so much more if it was in a nicer neighborhood.  I hate going into movies here and having a bunch of little kids doing the crib walk during the movie, and have Shaqueefa talking to Moniqua as loud as possible on her cell phone about 'this baby daddy and that baby daddy', come on. Plus the staff here is just so SAD looking.  They are all pimply little emo kids with jet black hair swept forward into their eyes, thick rings of eyeliner around each tearful eye. It's so weird. If you hate your life and your job THAT much, go dig a hole in your backyard and live in that.  It'll be dark and cold like your soul.

Seriously though, what is wrong with some of these kids? Have you ever seen the sickishly skinny boys wearing skin tight girl pants with like purple zebra print shoes and a yellow bandana for a shirt? I just don't understand it.  I used to hang out with guys who would dress like that because I went through a slight emo phase myself when I was like 16.  But I didn't dress like a borderline goth, I just listened to a lot more sad acoustic music and started hanging around with 'scene kids' with septum peircings and weird peircings in the middle of their cheeks and whatever other freakishly I'm-screaming-for-attention peircings they could think of.  It got old really fast because I learned the hard way that emo kids are HIGHLY sensitive and easily offended.  If you say one thing that might question their motives it's an immediate drama fest. The guys were actually worse then the girls. One of my emo friends came over for a small drink fest at my house one night and my mom asked him why he had a purse, he replied angrily, "It's not a purse, it's a sachel!' (I swear to God I am not quoting 'The Hangover', this kid ACTUALLY said this, and this was in 2002), my mom replied, "Ohhh, so it's a man purse..." He didn't like that too much, but we had a good giggle over it later. That kid hated me for a long time and probably still does. Heh. Come to think of it, that kid actually worked at Paramount! What a coincidence! 

Well I'm outtie. Not much going on today.

Those Damn Lesbos

So I was at the gym last week sometime, can't remember which day, and one of those damn lesbians was there.  I was on the elliptacle that they never go on, and Uncle Pat was on the treadmill in front of me.  I noticed she kept looking out the window, every 5 minutes or so, and I was under the impression that she was looking over her shoulder at me to see if I was done yet.  I started to get real angsty and huffy about it.  I feel like everytime the butcher of the two is in there, she's always eyeballing me.  Not eyeballing me because she has a crush on me or anything (thank God), but eyeballing me because she's jealous or something that I'm using a machine she may potentially want to use soon. Finally, I saw that stupid red stationwagon pull up, and you'd swear this lady had never seen Uncle Beatrice before...it's so nauseating to watch. Uncle B is a short little woman about 4' 9", the tradition dykey salt and pepper grandma-do that old lesbians seem to adore so much, and bushy little eyebrows covered with glasses.  She walked in there with a big smile her face and practically glided over to Uncle Pat like she was in a dream and they stared at each other lovingly. It's so sickening. It's one of those things where your so disgusted you want to look away but you can't. So I just sood there and watched them chat while listening to my ipod and squinting my face in a disgusted fashion.  Uncle Pat is clearly the man in the relationship because she's very masculine. She stands like a guy, talks like a guy, and just has 'guy' mannerisms. I'm sure one of these days I will undoubtedly catch her 'fixing' her crotch area like a burly baseball player, then I will have wash my eyes.  Uncle B actually looks pretty normal and looks like she should work in a library or something, whereas I have a very strong suspicion that Uncle P works as a forklift truck driver in a factory somewhere. Luckily, the ambiguously gay duo hasn't been there all that much lately, which is good because they really put a damper on my work out with all there mushy love staring and their simultaneous work outs.  Yeah, you're gay, we know, but do you really have to work out in sync together and do all the same movements at exactly the same time? Gawd.  I have a boyfriend too, but you don't see us running side by side on a treadmill, at the exact same speed, jeez people.

But that's all for today, I'm off to the gymnasium. Byebye.

Xbox and Pickles

I'm not sure what's going on with me lately, but I swear for the past two weeks I have had a different bodily dilemma funkin' up my life. First, I'm not sure if it's allergies or what, but I get these staggering headaches, followed by nausea, followed by extreme fatigue, followed by me going to bed at 9:30 the night before I took my vacation day, sooo I shoulda been drinking and playing Halo 3 on Xbox and cussing out 12 year olds Xbox live, not going to bed. The next day, (this was last Thursday by the way, June 10th), Friday, I felt like I was constipated. Then it slowly turned into a dull pain in my abdomin and groin area, and I quickly realized that my bladder infection was coming back for revenge and I only had 3 pills left from the previous one from a month ago.  Yeah, I didn't finish the bottle like I was supposed too? Big whoop, wanna fight about it? So I payed the price and ended up having to go to the doctor again and pay $70 bucks out of pocket for him to tell me the same exact thing he told me last time and prescribe me the same exact medicine.  I originally called to ask them if they could just simply fill it for me since I knew what it was and they said no. Cheap asses...but nonetheless, they did take me yesterday without an appointment and got me in and outta there in 40 minutes.  The perks to that was that I got out of work an hour early, got my prescription refilled, and still had time to go to the grocery store, get my new registration sticker, and still made it home by 6pm to enjoy some yummy soup and sandwhiches with the man. Trust me, I would much rather pay $70 bucks and see a nice legitimate doctor, a minute from my house, then go sit back at Aunt Satan's Asshole, 25 minutes away, in the ghetto again, and wait 3 hours only to find out that I have to wait 3 more hours for a brand new doctor fresh outta med school...For those of you confused, please see my previous entry about 'Insurance-less chaps'.  So anyway, today I wake up, and I had to think whether or not I'd gone out drinking the night before.  My head was pounding.  I felt like someone had punched me directly in the eyeballs. My forehead, temples and cheekbones were thobbing like my head was a heartbeat, and I considered calling off work. Unfortunately, I had just taken a vacation day the previous Friday for a Phish show, so I couldn't take off another day.  So I popped two Aleve, got ready anyway, and carried on with the day.  Despite the pain I managed to get a lot done today and even made it to the gym to complete a mile on the treadmill--found out I lost about 8 pounds in the last month...awesome. I also found out that the scale at the gym that has been plaguing me for months is a peice of shit and adds about 4 pounds to everyone's losses.  So that whole time when I was freaking out thinking that I wasn't losing anything and couldn't figure it out, it was just the stupid scale...Did I not say it?!!? Did I not say a few posts ago, "I don't believe that scale"? I totally did.

Yesterday, upon returning home from the grocery store, I was unloading my groceries when a sickening crunch of breaking glass was heard from behind me, immediately followed by a wave of cold liquid on my new gladiator sandals. A giant jar of delictable Claussen pickle halves had ripped from the bag and attempted an escape.  So now, I'm standing there with my purse, 3 bags of groceries, feet soaked in pickle juice and those weird floaty spices, a pile of broken glass and about 8 beautiful pickles laying in the driveway.  For a second I just stood there, seriously considering picking up the driveway pickles, rinsing them, and transporting them into a tupperware...then I pictured myself marching back to the grocery store with the contents of the pickled mess in a plastic bag and demanding a new jar. Claussen's aren't cheap, they are roughly $4 bucks a jar, and never on sale, but they are SO worth it. The salty, garlickly goodness topped off with a perfect juicy crunch, you can't go wrong.  They aren't vinegary and rubbery like some. Yuck. But, I digress...I went inside and got the broom, and sadly swept the poor little guys, accompanied by a pile of shards, into a dustpan, and threw them into the garbage in slow motion. I could hear them screaming on the way down, and I had to walk away. It was a sad day in pickle history, and I'm SO pissed at that little blond idiot at the grocery store who didn't double bag my glass. She looked like Garth Algar from Wayne's World. Infact, she put a plasic jug of cranberry juice in with it.  I mean, who does that?  It's not rocket science...when you are distributing the items into a plastic bag, you can pretty much determine at that moment whether or not the bag will be able to hold the heavier items without overstretching the bag. Sigh. So being the nice person that I am, I disregarded the whole situation, and gave the Garth-look-a-like girl a break, for now.

I also hit a bird with the Sante Fe today...there were definitely bird guts in my grill and I wanted to throw up upon inspecting it. The thing flew right into my car while heading down a main highway...I just pictured the oncoming drivers laughing at me.

Well Ben is snoring on the couch, and I'm taking this opportunity to play me some Halo, so I will see everyone on the flip side.

Party on Wayne, party on Garth.

 

Ants, cats and things...

I woke up today, feeling like a zombie. I have a feeling it has something to do with the humidity making me feel sluggish, or the fact that we just got back from a fun, sun and beer filled weekend, but I had an extremely hard time getting up this morning.  I trudged down the stairs, eyes still closed, found the werewolf and snuggled with him on the couch for a few more minutes before he scrambled away.  After my shower, I was getting ready for work as I usually do, when I noticed there was some kind of parade going on.

This wasn't a normal parade with music and gay floats and what not...but a parade of hundreds of ants filing giddily into my kitchen.  I stepped closer to the sink, one foot at a time, eyes wide like the ants were some kind of alien ants and were going to spew acid in my face or something...I muttered a load of obsenities under my breath...They were everywhere. The parade ended in a town ant meeting in my sink...I just stood there, staring. I had no idea what to do...it was about 8:10, I had to leave in about a half hour.  My hair wasn't done, lunch wasn't made, no breakfast had been eaten, and I knew this little fiasco was going to take up some time.  My first thought was I needed to spray them with something, and not having any bug spray, we use Lysol antibacterial spray to kill pests.  So, I drenched them in antibacterial spray.  It killed all the ones having a party, but did not stop them from filing in from the outside.  They were coming in from the back door, and the crack where the cabinets and the floor meet.  There is also a giant hill in our garage, and apparently another one under the porch, so I have a pretty good feeling they were coming in from the basement.  So I vaccumed and Lysol-ed them all for the time being, then threw the vaccum bag away. While all this was going on, Poster decided this would be a fine time to get inside the cabinets and roam around, which he knows he should not be doing, but seems to enjoy testing my patience when necessary--I was over this day already and I'd been awake for about an hour.

I finished doing my hair quick, and by this time, it was 8:44.  Awesome. I had literally no time to do anything else.  I brought a tupperware of cheerios and a 'bullet' of milk (the airtight container found on a 'magic bullet mixer'), for my breakfast, stomped on a few ants on my way out and drove to work in an angry tizzy.  I don't even remember driving to work, that's how angry I was. As I'm sitting down to start my day at the office, it dawned on me that it was June 1st.  June 1st is the day my sticker expires on my car. So I called around for prices and everywhere is pretty much the same...$104.00.  Including a $5 convenience fee.  Convenient for who!?  So that just struck my angry bone some more.  It's only my luck to be pulled over and ticketed for the sticker, so I'm just waiting for that to happen...

So anyway, lunch time comes and I told the boss that I was going to take a long lunch so I could go home and spray for ants.  I called the local Dollar General to ask them if they had traps, they said yes.  When I got there, they didn't have any traps.  I guess within the 5 minutes I called there must've been a sudden rush of ant trap Crazies trampling into DG, must be an out break of ants or something (rolls eyes).  So I settled for a indoor/outdoor Raid spray with a 'fresh comforting scent', which I found to be some sort of oxymoron...A can of death with a fresh comforting scent...oook.

So I sprayed a perfect jet of comforting death spray into the ants marching grounds, being careful to make sure I didn't get it everywhere because of the werewolf.  I sprayed it precisely into the crack where the cabinets and floor meet, in front of the back door, and unloaded a destructive amount of spray into the hill in the garage.  I went back in and took a papertowel around the cabinets where I sprayed to make sure Poster didn't get any notions.  But as usual, I was right. He promptly made his way straight to where I just sprayed and began sniffing around. Don't be fooled, the fresh comforting spray evidently attracts asshole cats as well as entices humans with the beautiful aroma. But I wanted to see what he did.  I couldn't stay at home to baby-sitt the little snot all day, so I watched him to see what he would do.  Luckily, he only sniffed and carried on his way. 

I wanted to mention also, that yesterday, we bought him new elevated bowls because he has a bad habit of pushing his water bowl all over, causing it to spill. He also usually pushes it right next to his box, which is never a good thing.  So these elevated bowls are simply two steel bowls, perched into a large plastic holder with a rubber ring on the bottom. Kind of like the one in the picture, except black.  I spent $14 bucks on this thing, and what does he do as soon as I set it down and fill it up for him? I walk away, and I hear him pushing it across the floor.

I need a vacation. Seriously.

The Danny Stories

When I was about 10, my parents, my sister, brother, two of my aunts and two of my uncles, and my two cousins Michael and Danny all went to Yogi Bear campground somewhere in Indianer to camp for a weekend in the pop-up campers.  Before I got too old and cool, I absolutely LOVED the trips to the Yogi.  I'm not sure if it was the one water slide down at the murky brown beach, or the idea of living in a tiny folding house for a weekend, but I loved it.  My cousin Danny was the same age as me, and we were practically inseperable growing up. He was my best friend for years to come.

After arriving and parking the pop ups, we had our hearts set on sprinting down to the pool.  The adults gladly agreed to get some long needed drinking in, and told us they'd meet us there later.  Michael had wondered into the forest to fish or something, and mom made me take my sister along.  You know that one little kid that's always trying to catch up in the foreground with the floaties? That was her. The pool was unusually desserted when we got there.  Just me, my sister and Danny--Danny cannonballed into the water, and I was being shy, pokin' one toe in at a time trying to get used to it.  Eventually I got in and swam for a bit, and then got out to dry off.  I remember the weather wasn't all that nice that day, so it was chilly. As I was drying off, I glanced over at the two girls who had shown up and were making a ruckus. They were being real nasty to each other, in a ‘playful’ kind of way, if that’s what you’d even call it. They were calling each other names and trying to pull each others bathing suit bottoms down...something that I obviously didn't want any part of.  Suddenly, one of the mini-skanks looked in my direction--I wished suddenly that I was invisible, but I wasn't.  The girl asked me, 'What are you a lesbian or something!?' Even though they were clearly talking to me, I responded with, 'Are you talking to me?'  They giggled, and continued tugging at each others bathing suits..."Yeah lesbian! Why are you looking at us!?'

"I wasn't looking at you."

God, I wished my future self could have come popping out of a time machine then. My future self would have said some very colorful phrases and told those girls how I really felt.  Obviously, they were the ones with the lesbian tendancies, and I wasn't looking to see them naked, I just glanced over to see the commotion was and that's all it took.  They stood there taunting me for what seemed like hours.

My sister was too young to even realize what was going on, and Danny had suddenly become a pro at holding his breath under water and made sure to stay there for as long as possible to avoid helping me. I kept looking to him for help but every time I would look I would just see the top of his head and a halo of bubbles. I was a very sensitive little kid, so I’m just standing there, fighting back tears and these little fatherless skankazoids were just harrassing me…when who should pull up at the perfect time, but my dad to the rescue. He yelled “What are you girls doing!!?” And of course, they scampered off innocently without another word.  Danny conveniently popped out of the water and said, 'Oh, we leaving?'  I frowned at him.  I'm pretty sure as we were getting into the van, Danny and I yelled, "JERKS!" or "IDIOTS!" or something a kid would say...Danny's favorite phrase as a kid was 'cheapskate', so it's very possible that he yelled that at them too even though it had nothing to do with the situation.

I told my dad what happened and as any concerned parent who's child is messed with, he started yelling and was tempted to turn around and possibly drown the little bitches, or something of that nature, and we all just laughed. Then he yelled at Danny for not helping me.  I felt much better.  I was never one to fight.  I tend to clam up under pressurized or awkward situations.  I'm one of those people who doesn't think of the good comebacks until 10 minutes after the fact.

Shortly after that fiasco, Danny and I found a new way to entertain ourselves.  We somehow managed to convince my dad that letting us drive the golf cart he rented around the camp for awhile was a good idea. So we drove around for probably a solid hour before a cop pulled up and started doing what cops do, and just being a jag off…asking us for our licenses, even though we were clearly 9 & 10 years old, we were laughing, like yeah, we TOTALLY have licenses! We didn't really understand what the big deal was, we were tall enough to reach the pedals, the thing didn't go over 20, and we were in a campground. It's not like we were out on the expressway.
We tried to lose him by driving down a bike path, but much to our dissapointment the bike path was a loop and looped right back around to where he was waiting for us. So we got reemed for a minute, but he let us go, and we got our drunk Uncle to drive us around for awhile. He was driving through bushes and all kinds of pollen dusted shrubbery for our amusement, Red Dog beer in hand. I almost flew off a few times, got hit in the face with a few low hanging branches, but we had a blast.

I remember Danny and I spent a lot of time on a swing set too.  It was one of those swing sets that's extremely tall, with very long swings, which gave us plenty of swinging power before we jumped off them into the sand.
I have plenty more adventures with Danny and I, but I have to really fish for these memories!

Note to mom & dad: Technically, that was my first encounter with a cop. Hehe. I know...not funny.  

Sites N' Stuff

Sorry for the slacking lately.  I've discovered a few more websites to keep my busy during downtime at the office so I've been neglecting my writing a bit.

Let's see...

- http://www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com/ - Awkward Family Photos, truly a gem of a website for any bored person.
- Yahoo Answers - Pet Section - Cats - People ask the weirdest questions about their cats and you have to leave your 'answer' or 'opinion' to their question.  You score points with each question. People can give you a thumbs down or a thumbs up, and also can rate your answer as the best.  I am obbsessed.  I've scored 655 points in 3 months. To do this, go to Yahoo, make an account if you don't already have one, scroll alllll the way down on Yahoo.com, and click Answers.  I never knew it was there because it's a tiny print at the bottom of the Yahoo website, but I'm glad I found it.
- http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ - This is a classic, and self explainatory.
- http://www.failblog.com/ - Had me in tears at work laughing.
- http://www.thewvsr.com/ - This is a blogger I discovered when looking up the side effects of Alli, the weightloss pill. I absolutely love this site, and love the reads. I was almost embarrassed, but then proud when I realized I was a top commentator. Thanks Jeff Kay, your blog has turned into my new facebook. This is the first site I check now when I get to work in the morning.

A few little updates:

I have lost about 16 pounds so far.  The scale is still telling me I've lost like 4, but it's one of those gay scales where you have to move the little tab yourself.  I just don't believe it, there is no possible way.  My jeans are fitting looser, my double chin is gone, and I can just TELL.  Why 16 you ask?  Well because when I was at the doctor a month ago, I was down 10 pounds, and that was with clothes on, and I've lost some weight since. So I'm just rounding it off at about 16.  I have had countless amounts of people asking me if I've been losing weight and I can finally say 'YES! YES I AM, THANK YOU FOR ASKING! SERIOUSLY THANK YOU!'  I hoping that at this point, I will be where I want to be by August-ish.  I had my boyfriend cracking up the other day.  We were driving to go get some food for a cookout and we saw a real fat guy stopped at a stop sign.  He was panting real hard like a bulldog in a sauna, and my boyfriend said, 'Man...that guy looked real fat and miserable.'  We laughed, and then I made the comment, "Yea, that's why I have my heart set on losing weight, I'm sicking of being miserable and uncomfortable in the summer time." There was a pause and he started laughing and said, "You act like you are obese or something." I'm not of course. But seriously, even being 'thick' in the summer time can be excruciating.  Especially for people like me who are extremely self concious.  Unlike some girls, I can't be thick, and still wear skin tight belly shirts and shorts that look like underwear.  I like to be somewhat conservative and try to wear clothes that can still flatter girls with some 'junk in the trunk'. Ha ha, that saying is so lame.  But I've seen some girls who are like 230 pounds, wearing tube tops, cut off jean shorts in which each worldly sized buttcheek is hanging out of either pantleg, there stretch marked pimply cleavage slapping about in everyone's face, and that's just not right.

I believe in the saying, 'shake what your momma gave you', but I believe that saying was created with intentions that you'd be shaking your inherited goods with clothes on. Kind of a black person's spin off on 'dance like no one's watching'.

Well work is about over and I'm about to go the gym.

I'm up to a mile and half on the elliptacle/treadmill...I'm going for 2 miles tonight.  If I can do two miles in the elliptacle, it'll take me about 40 minutes and I will burn about 450 calories. Nice. If I did it on the treadmill, it would be less calories, same amount of time. So I'm going with elliptacle. Wish me luck.

Disgusting clinics for Insurance-less chaps

Weeeeelllllll, goood afternoon.

Tuesday afternoon I was forced to go to the doctor for an apparent bladder infection.  I'd noticed it about 3 weeks ago, where I just felt like I had overstretched my stomach muscles, but they weren't unstretching themselves.  I thought it was from working out, so I stopped going for a couple days, and the pain persisted. Shortly after, my lower back started to ache, and my stomach felt heavy.  I felt like I was wearing a clip on Donald Duck fanny pack fulla lard. I try my very hardest to never go to the doctor, mostly because I hate it, but also because I'm always afraid that a little twinge or twitch is going to be something incurable or severe.  So I made an appoitment at a place called Aunt Martha's, in a ghetto, shoot 'em up town called Kankakee, IL.  Kankakee is the kind of town that should be on the show First 48 on A&E, and I often like to refer to it as "a slum of Chicago wannabe". It's not uncommon to open the newspaper everyday and read about someone getting shot at, run over, and robbed on a daily basis in this exceptional hole. 

"KANKAKEE -- Authorities in Kankakee say they've charged a 21-year-old woman with involuntary manslaughter in the death of a legless man whose body was pulled from the Kankakee River this week. --Daily Harold "  See? Even legless hobos aren't safe.

Since I have about a gazillion bills to pay every month, health insurance is not an option for me right now. So, I have to make an appointment at this clinic, because they take donations rather then insurance.  I usually give them $10 bucks a visit. My appointment was 12:45, Tuesday afternoon, May 4th. I took a half day off work, knowing this place is slow, and took a book of scary stories to keep me company in the overfilled, over-smelly, lobby of goons.  The past two times I'd been there, I waited for close to an hour and half before being called, so I was prepared. 

After about an hour, I'd read almost 2 chapters of my book, when I heard a lady in the corner, stomping, huffing and checking her watch.  I heard her say, "Goin on 3 hours now!"...I figured she was just exaggerating, so I carried on. Another half hour went by, and I was starting to get angsty.  Normally, I wouldn't mind so much, but this place is full of loud, obnoxious, assholes who have no respect for the people around them.  Half of them are coughing or picking an orafice, half of them are talking on the phone as loud as possible about how, "no man aint gonna get nuna dis jelly!' and, the rest are holding there four crying babies and filing their nails at the same time.  It's quite a spectacle.  Normally, I would be patient, but I was agitated with the surroundings, and incredibly uncomfortable in the tiny chair, that I finally went up to the window and asked how much longer it was going to be.  I made up a lie that I had to pick up my boyfriend and had to leave at about 3:30, which is reasonable I think considering my appointment was at 12:45.  The receptionist quietly explained to me, "The primary doctor had to leave to assist another clinic, and there is a new doctor in her spot, and she's very slow..." She looked through the files..."you still have 5 people in front of you, and there's 5 in the rooms right now who haven't been seen yet."  This was at 2:30. 

Let me tell you something, when you are hurting, or there is something unexplained happening to or in your body, the last thing you want to hear when your waiting in a doctors office, is that you will have to wait 2 or 3 more hours to see a doctor.  Even when I told them the circumstances, that didn't sway them.  There was NO way, I was waiting until 6 or 7 o' clock to see the doctor. If they knew she was going to get called out, they should have called all those people and rescheduled them, or told them they'd call them when it was ok to come in, or something! Come on.  So, I went in to my car, and just broke down crying with fury.  I was mad because they wanted me to wait, and I was mad because I didn't have insurance. In desperation, I called my poor dad and asked him if I could borrow money to see the doctor in my own town.  I'd been going to him since as far back as I could remember, when I HAD insurance (on my parents', which ended at 19).  But at that point, my boyfriend was getting off work, so I reluctantly asked him for the money instead.  I HATE asking people for money.  The guilt eats away at me worse then the Langoliers eat time zones.  So I called the other doctors office, and then told me they'd take me without an appointment.  Without even letting the office of Aunt Satan's Asshole know I was leaving, I booked it down the expressway to the other clinic, in my own town, 30 seconds from my house.  I was in and out of there an in a hour, and it only cost me $68 bucks with a 45% discount designed to help people without insurance.  I couldn't stop thanking them.  I felt stupid at how many times I thanked them for helping me, but I was so happy, I couldn't help myself.  Turns out, I did have a bladder infunction, and I was put on an antibiotic.

I vowed that I will never go back to that place...EVER.  I am convinced too, that the doctors at Aunt Satan's are clueless idiots who shouldn't be doctors.  I remembered something she said to me last time I was there, which I am not inclined to share for any reason, but I looked it up on WebMD the next day, and the website completely proved her wrong.  It's sad that I believe a website over a doctor. Very sad indeed.

I am feeling better now, by the way!

Thank you Riverside clinic. Forever and always, Britt.