Two Giraffes Walk Into A Blog…

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Actually, there aren’t any giraffes.  Well, I did have that one picture of giraffes, so maybe that counts?  Except only one giraffe was walking, the other was all topsy-turvy and whatnot.  Whatever.

So, work yesterday–I didn’t die.  And I got to work with Krystal. And Becky-the-awesome brought chicken nuggets.  And I didn’t have to touch any sweaty boob money.  So, overall, a pretty good night.  Had one slightly-scarring incident involving gummy-yuck diabolically hidden inside chocolate, but nothing a little intensive therapy won’t cure.  

I have a prescription for a new nebulizer, specifically, a portable nebulizer.  But the Iowa Health and Wellness folks aren’t real sure they want to cover this.  I mean, why would anyone need a portable nebulizer, right?  It’s not like you can’t just whip out your normal nebulizer and connect the tubing and add the meds and hunt down a plug-in wherever you happen to be when you have an asthma attack, right?  In the car?  Just watch for a nice rest stop or gas station–no one will mind you plunking down on the floor and borrowing an outlet!  At Walmart?  Just go ahead and climb over the customer service desk and plug-in!  Yeah.  Awesome.  The overwhelming condescension of these folks is amazing.  Why would a poor person need that?  It would just prolong their miserable poor existence by prolonging their life and such.  Even the pharmacy chick was outrageously unprofessional–openly dismissing a portable nebulizer as ludicrously unnecessary, a luxury item far beyond the reach of poor folk like me.  She insisted on mentioning the $150 price tag at least 6 times, just to make sure I knew how ridiculous my request was.  Now I am waiting for the folks at IHW to let me know if they will cover this expense or not, a process that can take a day or so.  So, hopefully by tomorrow, I will know if I have any chance of getting the stupid machine I need.  And you know what’s really funny?  I hate doing my nebulizer in front of people with an all-consuming passion.  The idea of doing a treatment in public is just not a pleasant one.  So, in essence, I am fighting these folks to give me this stupid machine, and I don’t even want to have to use it!  So the idea that is some kind of luxury or whatever is absolutely laughable.  For fuck’s sake, they act like I’m asking for a diamond-encrusted finger-splint or crutches with pink rhinestones or something equally ridiculous and unnecessary.  I hate people.

Daily randomosity:  I was gonna blog last night, I really was.  But then…well, Pinterest happened.  Screw you spell-check!  Pinterest and nebulizer are completely words!  It’s harder than you would think to make skimpy little undies stay on a hanger.  Damn near impossible actually.  And what is the point of underwear that cover almost nothing?  Like, what are they accomplishing there?  If your underwear resembles an anorexic capitol “T”, you have officially crossed into the realm of useless clothing.  It is serving no purpose.  Why bother wearing undies at all?  Just go commando.  And the whole wearing undies that deliberately reside in your ass-crack thing?  What. The. Fuck.  Why?!?!?  And while we’re on stupid chick fashion thingies–pie-toed shoes.  Seriously?  What the hell are you thinking?  Look at your foot.  Look at it!  Is it naturally shaped like a piece of pie?  No.  If it is, you should see a doctor.  Immediately.  Why would you cram your poor foot into such an ungodly unnatural shape?  And what the hell is up with corsets?  What sadistic bastard thought those up?  You can’t even lace them up or whatever by yourself–you have to have someone else behind you, yanking the stupid string things tight enough to make the corset look right or whatever!  Your boobs end up chillin by your chin and your lungs end up somewhere by your pelvis or something!  Why?  I’ll stick with keeping my boobs and internal organs in their natural locations, thank you very much!  Zombies, pink, butterflies, books and fat cats–my unique list of the most awesome things.  Ever.  Would rebellious teen flamingos dye their feathers brown and blond and such?  I mean, rebellious human teens go for colors like pink, so maybe they would go for blond?  Not sure on that one.  

Peace!    

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