You say Dr, I hear Jacka**

I have major issues with the medical community. Before you get your scrubs in a bunch let me explain my point of view. I think you're all ignorant sons of B!7c#3'5 and I want to shove that clicker pen through your eye and out your a55! You might feel a little pressure :)


Seems a little harsh. It is. I wanted it to be obvious in case a doctor was reading this. 


"If it's not obvious then it's a mystery and I can't treat it" All Doctors

Disclaimer: In my lifetime I have come across a few GREAT doctors. They are the exception to this opinion and they are rare.

No one is good at everything. I get that. A really good carpenter may not be the best dance partner. An amazing coffee barista could possibly totally suck at computer programming. A doctor can memorize the shit out of a text book but blows whale ass at EVERYTHING ELSE. clipping their nose hairs. Treating their halitosis, speaking to their patients with anything other than arrogant condensation. Most specifically it's the business model. Let's examine three situations:

1. You hire a painter. They don't paint your house, but they do stand in the street weaving a paint brush which they refer to as a test to see whether the house is paintable. You do not pay this person that is ridiculous.
2. You order a meal in a restaurant. The waiter sings Don McLean's American Pie instead. Though you clearly stated you were hungry, the waiter insisted your hunger was caused by your need for more cowbell. You do not pay the bill, a classic was not what you ordered.
3. You go to the doctor for a specific symptom. The doctor takes a guess and gets it wrong. YOU PAY HIM. Then you have to go back for a second guess and a third and a fourth and you pay every time. But you don't pay him, you pay a company to pay him and then that company shares the pleasure and has you pay him some too. Before He'll even see you.

"I believe your migraines are caused by an excessive amount of money. If you give some to me and the rest to entities associated with me I believe you will feel basically the same." All Doctors

Do you know what other profession uses the same "pay me for guesses" business model? Fortune Tellers.

I have an idea that will revolutionize the industry. We get rid of insurance companies. BAM! gone. We pay the doctors directly at a reasonable and competitive rate. Whenever you are ill or require medical attention you see a team of doctors. The one that can cure you gets paid. And ONLY the one that can cure you. They need a test to figure it out? They pay for it. All other professions acquire the tools to master their trade at their own cost. It's an investment to increase their value and grow their business. Doctors should be the same. You need surgery? Pay the doctor and he pays for the room and the lights and the swabs and all the other ridiculous shit on the hospital bill. If you hire a caterer they don't charge you a separate bill because they used a kitchen.

Don't misunderstand I don't have an issue paying for services when services are received. My issue is that doctors no longer bother to treat their patients. They are paid the same rate regardless. Even if they are shitty doctors they see patients because insurance companies have them listed as the option they'll pay for. And it gets worse. The more treatment required the more payment received. Doctors benefit from prolonging your illness. Doctors also benefit by prescribing certain drugs. I have every reason to believe I experienced this recently due to an unscrupulous son of a B!7c# AKA doctor. 
I would like to present that doctor with this offer. If there's money to be made in pain and suffering. How's abouts I push you down the steps and you can prescribe yourself whatever pays the bills. Blink once for the brand on your notepad and twice for the brand on your pen. 


I'm officially a little bit older

I have birthdays that mark my progression.. New Years is another annual reminder that time is passing. But there is nothing and I repeat nothing that clarifies aging like the tale I am about to tell.
I have recommitted myself to fitness. I do this a lot, luckily for me I maintain a pretty healthy weight and eating habits. If things go south I'm going to tell a lot more fat jokes (due to my need to self deprecate). I'm on a good two week run of consecutive gym attendance right now and things are looking optimistic. Then again I have this weird habit that might not be so weird. Whenever I am working out like mad I also eat like.....well like........ let me show you something.


Yes that explains it. Working out gives me a terrible case of the Kobayashi's. 

I digress. A case of the Kobayashi's is not why I have gathered words here today. This is a story about the time my slow decent in to a decrepit old state slapped me in the face at the gym.

It was a dark night. The cloud cover blocked the moonlight causing aforementioned darkness. It was a balmy 34 degrees also known as COLD AS SHIT. All was right in the world (not really). I waltzed into the gym like I do on any other night. Full of pep and spunk. I lifted here I lifted there. I did some slow methodical curls in front of the full length mirror with an impressive 15 pound dumbbell. Before you mock me remember I have the frail arms of a 12 year old girl. From Ethiopia. 

I hit the machines. There's one that looks like this:


If you ever get the chance, try this one out. But instead of pedaling just push both feet down at the same time. Both up then repeat. It's a wicked good time.

Then I tried out a machine that looks like this:

You may have already guessed that I don't have a good visual memory and that I don't really recall what any of these machines look like. I blame the hypothetical pot I hypothetically smoked with my hypothetical friends in the land of Honalee. Point is, this final machine you had to pull on a bar or something and it lifted weight.
When I first sat down the person before me was clearly a spartan because they had a ridiculous amount of weight on there, but being the smarmy character I am I thought I would give it a pull to the audible amusement of my fellow gym goers. So I sat down and I pulled REALLY hard to the sound of my own grunting.


And that's when I pee'd a little


Exit Strategy

Thursday is Thanksgiving. I'm not that fond of Turkey and yams but I'll eat a bowl vat of mash potaters and gravy like a boss. Depending on who prepared them... Depending on who prepared them you ask? Yes! is my emphatic reply. Think about your favorite restaurant, your favorite dish. Would it still be your favorite if you could see the cooks? The unibrows, the gunts, the dirty fingernails, the flaky skin, the afro mullet? In my family Thanksgiving is a giant buffet where everyone contributes. I never eat based on what looks edible but based on who brought what. If this is true in your family and your disappointed no one ate your casserole it's not because you overcooked the noodles it's more likely because you need to trim the nose hairs Panama Jack.
Also, you overcooked the noodles. Way to fail.

Every year I run into my grandmothers house and yell "WHO BROUGHT THE F$%^&ING CHEESECAKE!!!!"

and then I see:

and then I scream: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm not worried that my family reads my blog and will greet me with torch and pitchfork. They learned to dislike me years ago. Or so I would think, but I must be wrong because I seem to always encounter my second discomfort with Thanksgiving which is chit chat with a gathering of people whom are family yet I only know them through Facebook. Somehow I know weird intimate details about them. Their hopes, their fears, their bad break ups, their hatred of Mondays and love of Fridays. Who their voting for. The fact that they LOVE booze on Friday and Jesus on Sunday. (to these people I say pick a road and stop straddling). I know all of these things but this is as far into a conversation as we can get:

Hi. Good to see you!
good to see you too.
[dead air] ..............
I should go say Hi to grandma

I suppose it could be worse. I don't exactly want one of my uncles to ask me why and when I named it hellcat (Halloween) but what if they do acknowledge they know what I'm referring to when I mention my turkey waddle and then giggle. #instantregret

Although that particular name game would propel me into my least favorite portion of the show. The goodbye. In my defense I have come a long way and I now submit to the inevitable hug. I hate it though and this may be the year I take four steps back and end things more to my taste.


AVOIDING HUGS: My exit strategy's of yesteryear:
I faked I was choking and launched out the door on the guise I needed some fresh air
I picked up three large boxes (I was foiled when a certain relative just waited until I loaded them into the trunk. Which I then had to return later that day because those boxes were not mine)
I spilled a drink on myself - cream based works best apparently no one wants to hug a slimy mess.
I sneezed and let it run free (I was desperate) snot is just as effective as a cream based liquid.
I pinched my daughter. She cried. I swooped her up and held her close. Face into my chest so no one could hear her accuse me of pinching her and then it was "shh shh shh" and out the door! RUN FOREST!
I owned it Mission Impossible style. I crept out the front door got into the car and started honking. My family was confused but I got out of there with just a wave.
My daughter Audrey can fart on command. It's loud and it's proud and I have aimed and fired that child in a time of need.

This year I'm going in with a positive attitude and I'm bringing the pasta salad. I'm going to watch 15 back to back republican debates and I'm going to converse the sh*t out of those yolks. Then as their arms expand for the hug...... Fist bumps for all and for all a good night.

The sign of the Beaver and other randomness

The sign of the Beaver is a book my daughter must read for school. She is not happy about it. Her displeasure reminds me of how I felt about that dolphin book. Island of the Blue Dolphins. I still clearly remember being so annoyed with the story that when Miss #$%^& (forgot her name) asked me "what would you like to see happen next?" I replied "I would like her to die!"



Tonight I witnessed a bottle of wine being opened with a pocket knife for my benefit. Don't get the wrong idea, the gents wielding said crude tool was my father and youngest brother and no one here plays the banjo. But as I watched I thought of something innovative. I think all pocket knives should be equipped with GPS and automatic notifications. I think this would be useful for many many reasons the reason that crossed my mind in this moment was an auto notification to the local AA. The use of that tiny cork screw wreaks of desperation. You can't have desperation without lack of preparation and poor decision making and all three are being pursued by regret.



As many of you know the whole point to my blog is an exercise in exposure. If I can get used to people reading my inner thoughts perhaps I can overcome my writers block and get on with completing my book. That said it isn't helping and I'm thinking I should turn the dial up on my level of exposure. I know only one way to do this. I shall reveal all of the 2011 names for my mmmhmmm [points to nether region]. I change the name quite frequently sometimes dressing it up for the holiday, sometimes influenced by current events, other times because I thought of something really funny. I refuse to explain any of them unless you ask nicely.

Shadow                       HellCat                   Sea Biscuit      
Pandora                       Scarlet O'hara         Steve
Ground Zero                Tinsel Town           Simper Fi
Cape Cod                    GateKeeper            20,000 leagues
Fun Center                   Tunnel of Love       Party City
Winter Wonderland      Four Alarm Fire      Front Butt
Backstreet Bonanza      Hall Monitor           Snapper
Feed me Seymour        Deadliest Catch       snuffleufapuss
My Other Lazy Eye      Montezuma             Widow Maker
The Iron Fist                Slip N Slide             IHole 4.0
PeaceMaker                 Cave of Wonders    crematorium
Captian                        3.14                        Welcome Wagon
Occupy Wall Street    Pandoras Beard      The looking Glass




Thanks you and good night :)




And now for something completely different ...

Today is Tuesday - which is weird because it was Tuesday all day yesterday until around 5 when someone brought to my attention it was actually Monday. I cannot explain how hard that sucked! However due to my confusion it's as if I gained a day and I'm repeating my Tuesday :)
This has made me wonder just how affected or is it effected? I can never remember this one. I know my their they're and there as well as my to, too, and two but affect and effect still trip me up. Let's try that sentence again using a trick I taught myself
This has made me wonder just how impacted I am by what day it is. I was in a great mood and really productive until I realized it was Monday. That's when it all went away and I sat down. Therefor I decree I shall have two healthy doses of Tuesday and eliminate Monday all together. This is similar to my previous elimination of Thursday allowing me to enjoy 1st Friday and Friday respectively.

My New Calendar:

Sunday
Tuesday
Twosday
Wednesday
1st Friday
Friday
Saturday


This gives us:
Sunday - the day of rest (recovery) Eat rehydrate and be merry for tomorrow you work
Tuesday - The week has begun you have deadlines, expectations, needs, errands it's the beginingish of the week and the potential is limitless. DREAM BIG you can do anything by Friday!
Twosday - All the big ideas of yesterday have been put in to perspective, downsized, and can now truly be accomplished. Still the beginning of the week plenty of time to cross a thing or two off the list.
Wednesday - Wednesday irritatingly known as Humpday (FYI if I'm wished a happy hump day I celebrate by letting my foot hump your crotch)

Wednesday - is the day anyone in business knows as the scapegoat day. When you stumble upon something that requires attention always be happy it was discovered on a Wednesday. Completing the task by the end of the week is a pretty harsh demand. Every boss big or small knows it's too early in the week to ignore too late in the week to complete therefor we all default to "let's visit this first thing Monday" Ha! now we have two whole Tuesdays to work on it :)
1st Friday - you actually work because it's not really Friday. This is the day of the mad dash to complete the weeks to do's because you know damn well you are worthless Friday. After a tough day at "the office" 1st Friday is a great night for a drink with friends, a date, a football game, a late night movie etc
Friday - The beauty of the psychology of 1st Friday is that when you work on actual Friday you'll actually work. You may be a tad tired from the evening before but you're not pent up with a need to escape the work week and get on to the weekend.
Saturday - How do I explain Saturday? I can't, but I know who can. Ladies and Gentleman the Black Eyed Peas (psst click on the link - I haven't figured out how to embed links in pictures on blogger)

......and that will bring us back to Doe!

So today is Twosday. I am in a fantastical mood for absolutely no reason. I really don't have a whole lot to be happy about because these days my life has become a total shit show. I swear to bejeeddgus (bejeeddgus is a mythical creature created by my daughter Aud. It is the love child of Jesus and Buddha. He does magic tricks, loves children, and is pushing 300lbs) I can't get a win. Work sucks, home sucks, love sucks, money sucks, weather sucks, writers block sucks, and I'm cold. Even with all of the aforementioned sucks its hard not to see a light. Aud's second grade teacher at Foxboro was awful and so were her classmates. You could see every day that she came home her little light was a bit dimmer. Today was her first day at the new school and her teacher laughed and smiled and so did Aud. And so did I.

Bejeeddgus



Divorce

It has recently become clear to me that marriage is not forever. It's for as long as you can take it, kind of like waterboarding. Waterboarding is used by the CIA to extract intelligence information. Marriage is used by couples to extract admission of odd reasons they hate each other. If you have screamed "The bag does not seal itself! It DOES NOT seal itself! It does NOT seal it's #$%^& self!!" then you my friend have been married.



You have also experienced marriage if you are more aware of things you don't have, than you are of things you do have. When you walk in to the living room do you think:

A. There are those great leather recliners he wanted so bad. How Nice.
OR
B. Well there is where my couch would have gone if the #$%bucket didn't insist we buy those #$%^ chairs instead. 


Have you ever hated something on the wall. Really developed a deep hatred in your core for a piece of decor. Ever stared at it while thinking hateful things like "You're a dirty fat $%^&" That is a sign that there is trouble lurking around your happily ever after.



Take a look at these 5 questions and circle your first non verbal response:
1. You didn't stop and get the chicken like I asked?

  • oops! I forgot
  • GET YOUR OWN #$%^ING CHICKEN!
2. Can you move the clothes from the washer to the dryer?
  • Sure
  • Can you douche your face your breath smells like a kittens @#$hole
3. What should I wear Friday?
  • I don't know - something comfortable
  • Why would I give a $%^ I'll be looking at ANYONE ELSE
4. You never listen
  • sorry
  • The sound of your voice makes my nipples retract
5. I'm going to watch Football
  • enjoy
  • I'm going to crap in your coffin someday

It really doesn't matter how you answered. If you are married and not mortified after reading both answers then you are in trouble.

I think we all know where I am going with this. I have been married for 12 years and I have an announcement. Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries are divorcing. Some people just can't handle a little waterboarding.