Tuesday, January 25, 2005
NATIONAL F--- ME DAY
So Vampy wrote that yesterday was considered The Most Depressing Day Ever in the History of the Universe.
I don't know about that, but I would like to un-fondly dub it National F--- Me Up the A** Without Any Lube Day. And it didn't even take me to dinner first.
For starters (as you might have noticed) this thing was down, comma comma down doobie doo down down, waaaaay down. I would say it was without any warning whatsoever, but that is a half-truth. Insert technogeekspeak gobbledygook boring bullshit reason here: _____________. (Basically, try not to pick a hosting service run by a single guy who flakes and goes to Mexico on a bender with their entire revenue of 3 cents [in pesos] and a kick in the pants.)
Secondly, I had a doctor's appointment to find out what is wrong with me (Extreme PMS?) and after struggling to get across town for 2.5 hrs., was told that the good lady doctor (actually a shitty nurse practitioner from Flatonia, TX) wouldn't be able to see me. This isn't the first time this has happened. The first time, I had an appointment to get my bippy frozen off with liquid nitrogen, and they were out of liquid nitrogen. Good. Nice. Waste my time some more, you time wastreling weasels-!
As if that wasn't enough, the little shitsacksnotbooger of a front desk clerk claimed that I hadn't called ahead when I had, which is a slightly more polite way of calling me a filthy fartfelching liar. And I was already filthy and feeling like scum after felching farts all the way across town on the !@#$ city bus, thank you very much. So I had had enough, and loudly proclaimed that they were the shittiest shit shit practitioners on the face of the Earth, and that I wanted all of my medical files pulled, and also for the really snotty little Armenian office assistant to become my personal punching bag - I would start by scratching off her inch-thick layer of eyeliner and yanking the dated pee-yellow streaks out of her hair. I would actually be doing her a favor-! But no, she still wouldn't let me see the doctor/nurse practitioner/janitor named Guillermo. Hrm. I wonder why...?
Don't you just love it when people look at you like you're the crazy person, when it is the system that has made you nucking futs?! That's right, The Man, Big Brother, the HMO, the IRS, the JK, LMNOP, the QRS, TUV, WX, Y and Z - the City of Greater Los Angeles - that's what's making us go koo koo for Cocoa Puffs - it was certainly not our problem. It's them. Them. THEM. Taking our money and then making the system so complicated that we will never, ever be able to interpret or understand it in order to get any bang from our buck. THEY're trying to keep us down, and it's working...!
Heh...?!?
In my defense, you don't see me stampeding into Urgent Care, insisting that they have Guillermo the Janitor do a blood draw, and then demanding that the HMO reimburse me for the $300 "executive physical", do you...? Yeah, I know, I should have.
But that was enough rending of flesh, maiming, and killing for one day.
Please take away all my sharp objects.
Thank you.
NATIONAL F--- ME DAYI don't know about that, but I would like to un-fondly dub it National F--- Me Up the A** Without Any Lube Day. And it didn't even take me to dinner first.
For starters (as you might have noticed) this thing was down, comma comma down doobie doo down down, waaaaay down. I would say it was without any warning whatsoever, but that is a half-truth. Insert technogeekspeak gobbledygook boring bullshit reason here: _____________. (Basically, try not to pick a hosting service run by a single guy who flakes and goes to Mexico on a bender with their entire revenue of 3 cents [in pesos] and a kick in the pants.)
Secondly, I had a doctor's appointment to find out what is wrong with me (Extreme PMS?) and after struggling to get across town for 2.5 hrs., was told that the good lady doctor (actually a shitty nurse practitioner from Flatonia, TX) wouldn't be able to see me. This isn't the first time this has happened. The first time, I had an appointment to get my bippy frozen off with liquid nitrogen, and they were out of liquid nitrogen. Good. Nice. Waste my time some more, you time wastreling weasels-!
As if that wasn't enough, the little shitsacksnotbooger of a front desk clerk claimed that I hadn't called ahead when I had, which is a slightly more polite way of calling me a filthy fartfelching liar. And I was already filthy and feeling like scum after felching farts all the way across town on the !@#$ city bus, thank you very much. So I had had enough, and loudly proclaimed that they were the shittiest shit shit practitioners on the face of the Earth, and that I wanted all of my medical files pulled, and also for the really snotty little Armenian office assistant to become my personal punching bag - I would start by scratching off her inch-thick layer of eyeliner and yanking the dated pee-yellow streaks out of her hair. I would actually be doing her a favor-! But no, she still wouldn't let me see the doctor/nurse practitioner/janitor named Guillermo. Hrm. I wonder why...?
Don't you just love it when people look at you like you're the crazy person, when it is the system that has made you nucking futs?! That's right, The Man, Big Brother, the HMO, the IRS, the JK, LMNOP, the QRS, TUV, WX, Y and Z - the City of Greater Los Angeles - that's what's making us go koo koo for Cocoa Puffs - it was certainly not our problem. It's them. Them. THEM. Taking our money and then making the system so complicated that we will never, ever be able to interpret or understand it in order to get any bang from our buck. THEY're trying to keep us down, and it's working...!
Heh...?!?
In my defense, you don't see me stampeding into Urgent Care, insisting that they have Guillermo the Janitor do a blood draw, and then demanding that the HMO reimburse me for the $300 "executive physical", do you...? Yeah, I know, I should have.
But that was enough rending of flesh, maiming, and killing for one day.
Please take away all my sharp objects.
Thank you.
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