Okay, these are 5 really awkward moments that are not impressive unless you’re impressed by bizarre or embarrassingly dorky behavior, in which case these moments will be awesome.
1. The day I yelled holy hell at a PRIEST:
I was coming out of a nice toasty building after class and opened the door to Antarctica. Seriously, it was super freezing outside, which it had not been earlier. So, when the shock of the cold hit me, I kind of went stupid for a minute. It was during that minute that I yelled “Holy Hell it’s cold out here!”. Unfortunately, a priest just happened to be, like, right in front of me, heading into the building I was leaving. I stared at him in horror as I realized I had just more or less screamed this right at him. Luckily, I was struck momentarily speechless, allowing him to enter the building without the added insult of me frantically trying to ‘fix’ things with, “Oh shit! I am so sorry! Oh God, I just swore at you. Argh, I just said God at you in the bad way. Damn, this is not good. Shit!” This was the awesomeness that spewed from my mouth after his escape, which left me looking like a nutjob standing there apologizing to no one, but that was far better than actually saying it to him.
2. The time I hid from a bat.
I have seen bunches of documentaries and such about all kinds of animals, including bats. I have no problem with bats in zoos or on t.v. or whatever, it’s just that, in person, they seem a lot less harmless. When I see them on t.v. and such, I am all “What amazing little creatures. They’re almost cute-ish in a creepy creature sort of way. I am so glad they exist and eat bunches of icky bugs.” As soon as they are flying in my vicinity,however, I am suddenly a terrified villager, all “Kill it! Kill it with fire! It must be destroyed!” Well, except I’m usually flailing and shrieking like a scared little girl, which doesn’t really include such rational statements as those. Many moons ago, a bat got into my apartment and, rather than trying to lure it outside or anything remotely sane and rational, I hid under a blanket and had about a million mini-panic attacks until I managed to fall asleep. In the morning, the damn bat had disappeared without a trace.
3. The time I saw my high school crush at the store and discovered I couldn’t speak to him.
I truly don’t understand this one at all. Way after my high school years were over, my friend and I ran into the guy I had been totally twitterpated with in both junior high and high school. My friend stopped and chatted with him for a minute while I stood there like the world’s dopiest, most fidgety lump o’ person ever. Then he turned to me and said something, to this day I don’t know what it was, and I attempted to answer. To my horror, I could not force an intelligible response to save my life. I froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights as my mouth hung open and I stared at him uncomprehendingly. I finally managed a strange, grunt like response before darting away in a desperate attempt to get away. Yes folks, I am just that smooth.
4. That time I had an underwear party with 2 guys.
Okay, so we were all, like, 5 years old, which may be an indicator that my tendency toward the inexplicably awkward and bizarre started at a young age. It really wasn’t a big deal to us, we thought we were being silly and hilarious. We were in the playhouse of one of the boys and, from what I can remember, we were having a great ol’ time dancing around in our undies. The boys mother, however, was not so entertained by our antics. She pretty much blew a gasket, in fact, I think at one point she threw words like slut and trouble in my direction. My mom got a rather hysterical visit from the woman, who was gripping my arm like a psychotic python and shaking me for emphasis as she related my deplorable behavior and ranted about what a bad influence I was on her poor little boy.
5. The time I decided to get in a golf cart with Justin.
First they took my golf club away after my 17th attempt to hit the ball failed. Then they wouldn’t let me stay and pet the cows. Then Justin tried to kill me and Rod. He smooshed poor Rod’s leg between 2 golf carts, and sent my flying out of the cart–all ’cause he had to go and try to act like the lost Duke boy. My poor leg swelled up like a balloon and hurt like crazy for ages. And the look I got when I had to tell the E.R. doc that my injury was due to a golf cart incident was a tad judgmental in my opinion, which made me feel all awkward and irked and such.
So yeah, I’m pretty amazing at my ability to embarrass myself and others and to find the most awkward and bizarre possibilities and dive right in. But at least I keep things interesting I guess.
I saw my doctor yesterday. She gave me a new med to try for my fibro, so let’s hope that one works. And then she said I should do what the stupid lung doc said for a month, then contact him to let him know if it isn’t working out. Great. I get to continue dealing with that douche-bag. It was pretty funny today though, when I went to the pharmacy to pick up my new meds, the pharmacist found it rather shocking and, apparently, stupid that the lung doc took me off the duo meds and switched me to just Albuterol. She made a point of telling me to keep track of how much I am using the Albuterol, and to let the doc know if I am needing to use it more than I am supposed to, which would be an indication that I do need the duo meds. So, if I die from an asthma tantrum in the next month or so, feel free to sue the hell out of my idiot lung doctor.
Daily randomosity: I started giving Dart his eye drops yesterday, and I’m a bit bummed that it isn’t helping as fast as it has in the past. The poor thing looks just miserable. One of my new meds has a warning to avoid getting overheated due to an increased risk of heatstroke…so work should be interesting. I want some sea monkeys, and this time I totally would not kill them by feeding them a weeks worth of food all at once before leaving on vacation.
Siiiiiiiigh. So today I went for my PFTs and to meet my new lung doctor aaaaand he’s a jackass. First he informed me that my last lung doc put me on the wrong medicine and so he wants me to stop taking my current inhaler and nebulizer medicine and switch to what I actually should be taking. Normally, I’d be all like, if it will fix this shit, then I am all for it. However, I find his recommendation absolutely baffling. For several years, I have used a Combivent inhaler, which contains both Albuterol and Ipratropium and have been using that combination in my nebulizer as well. So this new doc informed me I don’t need the Ipratropium, just the Albuterol. So his solution is to have me use an a plain Albuterol inhaler and just Albuterol in my nebulizer treatments as well. He said that the Ipratropium isn’t, like, hurting anything, I just don’t need it. So what confuses me is why removing the Ipratropium from my medicine will make things better. I was put on the Ipratropium because the Albuterol by itself was not working–I was using the inhaler far too often and the nebulizer treatments were not bringing the relief they should. When I attempted to explain this to Dr. Stupid, he promptly informed me, again, that I didn’t need that and continued on as though I hadn’t said a word. Whenever I asked about things, like the trouble I am having at work or the issue with the perfumes and cleaners or the freaky weird thing that’s happening that I really don’t want to get into, he gave me the exact same answer: if you quit smoking and this new treatment works, you should be fine. Every damn time! He wouldn’t even attempt to pretend to give a shit what I was saying or what I thought or how I felt. When I told him about the problems I have had in the past with taking inhaled steroids, he made a point of informing me, multiple times, that since I WON’T take an inhaled steroid, which would be the best thing to help my issues, that there just wasn’t anything else to do beyond putting me on the “correct” meds. When I attempted to point out the minor detail that it isn’t that I won’t take the stupid things, but that I CAN’T take them, he acted like I hadn’t even spoken. So basically, he did absolutely nothing but make me want to punch him. Thankfully, I have an appointment with my regular doctor tomorrow (or today or whatever) and I figure I will talk to her about this and get her opinions about what I should do about all this. I need to figure this shit out and try to get to the point where I don’t feel so crappy all the time and I can work without feeling like I’m going to keel over. Why can’t doctors just listen to patients and actually consider their feelings once in awhile?
I got to hang out with Rae this afternoon, which was cool. And we went to the Olive Garden, which is my fave place to stuff my face. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned Rae or not, but she was my mom’s best friend, which means she’s kind of stuck with Donnie and I, kind of like a short, grumpy, yet loving and lovable non-related aunt or something. Anyway, she’s fun to hang out with and I totally love harassing her.
Daily randomosity: I think maybe they lace the black tie mousse cake with heroin or something, those sneaky Olive Garden folks. I’m pretty sure I saw Robby today, driving his dad’s work van. I mean, I know I saw the van and obviously someone was driving it, but I am not sure it was Robby, but it looked like it. Me on stilts would not end well. There’s a girl on this episode of America’s Next Top Model that refuses to pose in any photos in underwear, but she will pose in a bikini no matter how skimpy it is, which I find perplexing. She says it’s because only her husband should see her in her underwear, but apparently she’s okay with the whole world seeing her in an itty bitty little bikini that covers less than the underwear does. Weird. Why does the Progressive insurance box guy have to shower? And how does that work? I mean, he’s a box that appears to be made of some form of cardboard, so why does he need to shower and how does he shower without getting ruined? It’s not like he can get all sweaty and stinky and such, so why risk getting all waterlogged in the shower? I really wish I could have bought the adorable little zombie dude I saw at Half-Price Books today. That place is like some evil magnet for me or something, I just can’t resist its diabolical temptations.
People suck. Yeah, I know, way to state the obvious, right? But here’s the thing, I kind of worry that maybe people don’t suck as bad as I think they do, and I’m pretty much just a heinously judgmental asshole. Seriously, I worry that I’m being totally unfair to the human race by thinking that the majority of them are, more or less, pieces of idiotic shit. I have, however, come to the conclusion that, while I probably really am a heinously judgmental asshole, my opinions are, in fact, pretty much spot on. People just suck. My proof of this? Besides the delightful bits of suckiness that we are lucky enough to be bombarded with in the media, just look around yourself. That shithead that talks to you like you’re a moron, the woman who almost runs you off the road because she is too busy texting to pay attention to her driving and then flips you off as though it’s all your fault, the jackass that opens shit at the store to get a better look but never purchases it, the piece of crap that still thinks racial slurs and tormenting others is the height of hilarity, the douche-bags that let their children run wild in stores without any attempt at corralling them or cleaning up after them–all sucky people. The bitch that tries on lipstick and puts it back on the shelf? Sucky person. They are everywhere! I think we should be allowed to throat punch these people just once…okay, maybe 2 or 3 times. Aw hell, who am I kidding? Throat punches for every one of those sucky scumbags. Especially the one who let their brat child trash the toy section tonight right after I straightened it and the one that tore open 6(!) packages of undies, pulled one or two pairs out of each package, then tossed the whole mess on the floor.
I go to my new lung doc tomorrow (today technically). I hope he’s decent and I really hope he can figure out something to make my stupid asthma quit being such an asshole. At least I know what to expect with the PFT’s (pulmonary function tests), seeing as how I’ve done them, like, a gazillion times.
Daily randomosity: Super excited to Skype with Chloe Tuesday! Damn it! I keep hitting the enter key with my pinky nail when I go to hit the shift key, and it is annoying the crap outta me! I think Cornelius Pumperdinkle is a good name for that M&M peanut–good choice yellow M&M dude! I really hate gnats. And flies. All bugs in general, really. Medieval Times was a pretty cool place, once you got past the whole–being served a complete Cornish Hen that still looks rather chicken-ish and there’s bones and skin and it just doesn’t seem right to eat something that still looks like a small chicken and actually kinda looks like a Bogart so then you name him and the meanies around you decide to pull his poor little hen leg off to discourage your compassion for poor Bogart who now only has one leg and looks even more pitiable and impossible to ingest–thing. I’m not sure I like the memes I made tonight. They just don’t seem that good to me. I could never be one of those folks who matches every aspect of their outfit perfectly. Like the lady on this show that’s wearing a red coat, red dress, red shoes, red earrings and has red fingernails and a red purse. It’s like a scary explosion of red in the shape of a person. Yikes.