Oxygen? HA! Overrated.

So Rob came by last week w/ some kinda respiratory infection. I wanted to be proactive and get some antibiotics bc if I get respiratory shit, my asthma goes haywire and I land in the hospital. I got my antibiotics, nommed em down and got sick anyfuckinway. It was all good til I inevitably got to the point of having to use my rescue inhaler every hour to be able to do anything other than breathe like I was sucking an elephant through a straw. A neon green squiggly straw. Anywho, I tote myself to the ER at around 10:30pm. I get there, and am waiting to be triaged. Whilst I wait, I observe (b/c if I don't do something to get my mind off lack of oxygen, I'll prolly go into a panic attack. Ya know, that whole adding insult to injury thing). There's this old Jewish (I'm sure of it) northern couple....probably from New York....and I swear they WERE the stereotypical senior citizen couple from up top. The dude shuffles to the triage door and begins to knock, meanwhile his wife is sitting there with her hand on her head saying "whadaya DO-EEENG?!"..."I wanna know what's going on!" he says. The little triage nurse opens the door, and is then baraged with a line of questions around why he hasn't been seen yet, his mouth is bleeding and he's swallowing it and blood is going into his stomach, where are the Dr.'s ("Doctiz", is what he said), blah blah blah. I laughed....just a little, due to no air flow. Meanwhile, they proceed to take me back to triage and give me a breathing treatment on the spot. I'm pretty sure that while I was getting my breathing treatment I heard more knocking coming from the triage waiting area. I KNOW I wouldn't have opened that door. lol. So nothing else really to report around my ER visit. Today I took my silly ass BACK to the Dr. and he gave me all kinds of fancy-pants prescriptions. Prednisone (YAY!), more antibiotics, and a prescription for my very own NEBULIZER!!! So, in theory, ER visits will be a thing of the past! I had to go to a place called MEDICAP to get THAT joker. I felt like I had finally achieved REAL grandma status when I went there! All kinds of creepy pill bottles and canes w/ butterflies on them and $40 medical panty hose....yeesh. So between the copay of 2 Dr's visits ($25 a piece), 1 ER visit ($100), my nebulizer ($58....insurance does NOT cover the purchase of a nebulizer, btw. TOM FOOLERY!), and my sachel of drugs from Walmart ($29)...I can no longer purchase my fuzzy Northface coat, and it's all the fault of Rob. DAHHHHH!!!! Next on the agenda: tooth yankage tomorrow @ 3. What the fuck, man. Dr. visit, ER visit, another Dr. visit, sachel of drugs, and now tooth-pullage. Is this what gettin' old is all about? If so, I think I'll follow the advice once given to me by a fat, bald, chester-the-molester lookin motherfucker....next time I WILL down the whole bottle of painkillers and call it a damn day. This gettin' old shit is for the BIRDS....and not any kinda bird I like, either.

Tis the season to be shiesty

So I get it. One can never have enough $, especially during this "joyous" season of "giving". We all wanna make sure our kids, spouses, family and friends have enough goodies from jolly ol' St. Nick and whatnot. HOWEVER! Shoplifting rings aren't the way to get this money! [although I highly doubt these people are doing what they're doing to earn money to buy their kids some Monster High dolls, or an Xbox 360] I work in a special kinda area where shoplifting and Tom Foolery is basically common practice. During the regular year, people steal b/c they want the product. During the Christmas season, people get up to some fuckery in order to get cash. Unfortunately for them, we don't give cash for product w/o receipt (aka: STOLEN SHIT). So they've devised ways to syphen cash out of us without any actual dollar bills leaving our register. I don't really wanna get into what they're doing, aka: my conspiracy theories, but it's a pretty luctrative business and it pisses me ALL the way off. We've lost the better half of $700 in one week. And obviously that counts against us and our payroll. So basically, losing that money cost us 3.5 hrs of payroll. Do you know what that is? That's me, having to cut a full shift from one of my associates who wants to make money they HONEST way. I really wanna come across the counter, grab these people and shake them while informing them that their lifestyle is hurting people who want to make a legit living. I mean, let's think about it from a part-timers perspective. You get maybe 2-3 three hour shifts a week. We get hit, and I have to cut one of your shifts, leaving you at 1-2 three hour shifts. Then our dear friend Uncle Sam comandeers the taxes out of your paycheck, portions of which will go to welfare, food stamps, and low income housing, which these thieving bitches undoubtedly take advantage of. So my part-timers are paying these peoples way, not once but twice. It's unreal, and completely shameful. It has affected ME to the point that I'm DREAMING about this shit! This moring, I dreamed that I was in the store by myself and all of them came with welfare checks to cash! I am officially going crazy. I'm over it b/c not only is this bullshit hurting my part timers, how in the fuck am I supposed to bonus? We all bust our asses to make money and then we randomly are set back $300, which is NOT easy to make back up. All I can do, and have been doing, is praying for these bitches. Even though they piss me all the way off, I know there's nothing I can do, and being angry isn't going to change their behaviors. WHEW! OK. I feel a tiny bit better getting that off my chest. Stay tuned, there will undoubtedly be a rant about dentists, as I am headed there in the next 5 minutes.

Shopping Debacle Version Target.0

So normally, when I need to make a purchase of some sort, and also wish to avoid Tom Foolery, I go to Target. In fact, I delight in going to Target. They have all kinds of cool shit, the lines are reasonable, the cashiers are friendly and none of the clientele or employees hit on me. Winwinwin. So I know I need cat food and stuff, so I make my way to Target. "YAY!" I think to myself. HA! Lies and falsehoods. So I get a shopping basket and proceed to fill it with copious amounts of cat food, me food, tissues and mascara. I decide to pick up the cat litter right before I check out b/c it will be heavy as fuck and I didn't wanna hafta tote it for long. So I meander around the store a bit, hoping that the gears in my brain would get to churning and I could get ideas for Christmas gifts for Rob. I went to the electronics section, which is where I inevitably determined that Christmas is cancelled this year. Fuck this, I already bought him every video game system his little heart could desire, the only game I knew he really wanted (Skyrim) is already in his possession. I think for the first time ever, I legit have NO clue what to get him, but I have plenty of ideas regarding what I want. And don't anyone suggest that we just buy our own Christmas gifts! Buying our own gifts ruins the element of surprise, thus ruining my sense of accomplishment in buying something awesome, thus ruining my LIFE. Ugh. But anyway. I'm now depressed as fuck and decide that my shopping excursion is done. I go to get the litter. Please keep in mind that my shopping basket contains 30 cans of cat food, and other miscellaneous items. The cat litter is 31lbs. I am like....112lbs. This was a no go. So I wobble around the store in search of a cart, all the while hoping my arms don't rip off. I find one, only to realize that I am also too short and not-strong to lift this fucking 31lb thing of cat litter into the cart. I KNOW I looked like a dummy trying to hoist this joker into my cart without the cart rolling away and also without me getting severely fucked up somehow. But had anyone offered to help me, I probably would have started to shed tears of embarrassment and just run away. So I finally get all my shit into the cart and get in line. Oh joy....the asian cashier. Let me give you some history. The first time I encountered him, the man in front of me was treating the kid like DOG SHIT. I was like "damn, poor guy." Some people just don't like foreigners. It's my turn in line, and I am determined to be nice to the guy so he doesn't feel bad. FAILSAUCE. This.....joker.....aghhhhh! He bagged the shit all crazy, and when I say crazy, I mean he tried to cram everything into 2 bags. No go. He also gave me the spiel on the Target card, in SEVERELY broken (see: obliterated) english. I politely declined, grabbed my 2 screaming-full bags and kept it moving. TODAY.....he attempts to cram 3 boxes of mac & cheese bites, 2 boxes of tissues, one mascara, one pack of cat toys, one thing of oreos and 30 FUCKING CANS OF CAT FOOD into 2 bags. NO! STOP! I take the bags from him and open a new bag. Because I AM  an expert, 30 cans of cat food cannot coexist with other shit! Fuck. He says "Target card, save 5%". No I'm good. He rings everything up, stops and says something indecipherable. And stares at me. Like I'm supposed to reply. "What?" He repeats himself. Nope....I got nothin. "Yeaaaaaaaummmmmmmidunno.....there should be 30 cans of cat food total." SWIPE! lol. I had NO CLUE what he said. At all. And that's a problem. There's a lady at Target who is hard of hearing. She talks a little funny, but I can comprehend her and she's nice and doesn't bag my shit all crazy. There's a little indian man who is also a little hard to understand but he's very nice and ALSO does not bag my shit all crazy. This kid barely speaks english and I do not speak crazy-nese, so we are at an impass. I drive my little cart out of the store and go the fuck home. Sorry to say that my shopping experience at Target effectively cured my writers block. UGHHHH.