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My freakish nails are still bothering me. Not enough to go through the trouble of taking them off and replacing them, but possibly enough to paint over them so I don�t have to look at my weirdly long-appearing nail beds any more. Why is it that I let things like this bother me? Oh right, to avoid thinking about all the other things that make me want to scream. Like this: We�re going to Las Vegas, right? The only reason we�re going is because the Cubs play their last two spring training games there. We�re going with four other people. One of the four was in charge of getting everyone�s Cubs tickets. So how many did he buy? Four. Let�s do some basic math. Beth plus Nick plus the four other people equals�not fucking four. No big deal, Nick says, we�ll just go online and order ours. Except that it�s sold out now. Hello, eBay? What�s that you say? Buy It Now two tickets for both games? Well that�s just what we need! I know you di�in�t just say six hundred dollars, did you? You�re aware that these tickets are thirty-five dollars apiece, right? Fuck. I�m pissed. This is why I don�t ever plan anything. Something always gets all fucked up. And do I even need to mention that Nick has not asked a single person to watch the kids yet? Why did I agree to let him �handle� this? I know perfectly well how he �handles� things. Gah. Oh, and this: When I went to the pharmacy on Monday, I had five prescriptions. Yes, that is a lot, but I was thinking that people who do the drug dispensing thing for a living just might be able to handle it. (Ha ha ha.) They didn�t have enough to fill the whole order, so they gave me what they had and gave me three slips to bring back on Wednesday to exchange for the balance of the order. Got that? So I go back Wednesday at lunch and they tell me they won�t be ready until after 3 pm. Fine. I go back after work, I hand them the three slips, and they hand me a bag. LIKE A DUMBASS, I DID NOT LOOK IN THE BAG. When I go to take my pills that night, I open the bag and find two bottles. Fuck. So I go back yesterday at lunch. They tell me, and I quote, �Yes, we were concerned about that third label. But since we didn�t know what the owed number of pills was, we just DISREGARDED IT.� Oh. So you�re telling me, when I�m at work, and I come across something that I�m not sure about, I can just DISREGARD IT? Fuck, why didn�t anyone tell me this before? Do you know how much time that must save? Needless to say, my head then exploded and covered him in a fine mist of brain goo, and he told me to come back after work and I could have all the drugs I want. But for the love of Mike, did it need to take four days to fill my prescription? Really? (And Joree who works at the Meijer Pharmacy, you are a snotty little bitch and I�m soooooooo sorry I made you do your job like twice. Suck it.) And, this: Someone in my office is eating popcorn. It�s 8:30 in the morning. That�s just crazy, not to mention thanks for making everyone hungry four hours from lunchtime. That was considerate. It�s Friday. I have never needed a Friday more in my life. Kids are: Something whispery and sort of irritating. Last person who pissed me off: Whoever is eating popcorn. I really don't like that smell. Heard in my house: "Why does my brother kick me?" To make Mommy crazy. That's why. Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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