Okay, I have oficially determined that all those from The Hamptons are escapees from Pilgrim State Hospital. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be this much stupidity. Case in point: Yesterday, The General and I were at the Princess Diner in Southampton. The waitress comes up to us and doesn’t even bother to make small talk. She’s like “what do you want?” and that’s it. The General says water and I say club soda. I get my club soda ASAP, with a lemon in it (to prevent scurvy, of course) but The General has to ask four more times, and finally gets it. Then, the stupidity continues.

An older man and his wife were going to get the senior citizens’ special which comes with either coffee or tea. The man goes, “can I have iced tea with that?” and the woman goes “no”. He goes “I’ll pay extra” and the woman still says “no”. Okay, a man is willing to pay extra and you refuse him? Good business move, lady. Good business move. Finally, the manager comes out and is like “okay, waitress, this isn’t that hard. Put some tea on ice!” Really. Not that hard. And the waitress continues her pattern of unfriendliness (this seemed to be the status quo among the wait staff there) for the rest of the meal. Let’s just say that she got a whopping $1.10 for a tip. I wish they gave coupons for lobotomies and electroshock therapy. I would have left a bunch with her.

Otherwise, the diner food was good and apparently the service there is warmer. And most people from Long Island really aren’t insane. I promise.

I woke up this morning,
The sunlight making me nauseous.
I didn’t heed any warnings,
But I still was cautious.

And as I rode up on the street,
Looking for something new to see.
I felt the dirt beneath my feet,
And I wondered if this really was me.

‘Cause all I need to do is be with you,
And something makes my day somehow less blue.
I then take it all in strife,
And you make me thankful to have you in my life.

As I sat inside a room
Thinking nothing of cold tea
I thought of you as my groom,
Seeing all there is to see.

And as politics were made,
And voices became lies.
I sat thinking of this day,
And being by your side…

‘Cause all I need to do is be with you,
And something makes my day somehow less blue.
I then take it all in strife,
And you make me thankful to have you in my life.

And when this day will end,
You will be deeply missed,
Until the sun will rise again,
And I shall feel your kiss.

‘Cause all I need to do is be with you,
And something makes my day somehow less blue.
I then take it all in strife,
And you make me thankful to have you in my life…

Haiku #1:

Let us rest on hills.
Accept my apology please.
I love you so much.

Haiku #2:

Kiss me in the rain.
I shall wait on the grass hill.
I am very very wet.

Haiku #3:

Sleep now my lover.
I shall watch your eyelids flutter.
Blankets provide warmth.

Manhattanville decided to reinstate 75% of my scholarship for the Fall 2007 semester. This is very very good!

…apparently not, though.

So life sucks right now because I have a cold. And I mean, I really don’t get that many colds a year. I think my last one was in February.

So here I am, with a temperature of 98.3 (fairly low), pale and flushed, dizzy, stuffed up, runny nose, and a sore throat. And this Tylenol Cold sucks! It is the daytime formula and it guarentees to be non-drowsy. Bullshit. I haven’t been this sleepy in a long time, and it is sad because I was so sleepy last night and I didn’t fall asleep until 1:00 a.m. because Sudafed now has no pseudoephedrine and it doesn’t make me sleepy anymore. The only good part is that I’ll take Tylenol Cold Nighttime Formula tonight and I’ll probably sleep like a log.

I have a pretty good track record of getting over colds quickly. For a real cold, I usually am over it in two to five days. Except when it’s Hay Fever or some other virus. Then it’s weeks and weeks of hacking and whatnot. I’m kind of hoping it’s a real cold; I need to appear on the news on Wedensday and I don’t want to look ill. And I need to finish my ruching before that.

I hate summer colds so much. It’s so nice out, but I’m stuck here in sweats and air conditioning.

You take your hand,
Fitting two fingers inside the flesh of lined palms,
Marking territory.
I am yours.

Not mortals but spoons,
Fitting inside each other,
Sleeping as the thunder rolls by.
Dreaming is no use,
For what we have is a sweet nectar fantasy
In which we are living.

And not spoons but gods!
You are greater than Adonis,
As quick as Mars,
And as wise as Juppiter.
You are supreme,
And I could not ask of better.

For a fraction of your love,
A mere volt in this passionate cloudburst,
Would satisfy me forever.

Okay, so the doctor’s appointment wasn’t so bad. The receptionist there was actually smart (most are…there’s a few girls under 25 who really hate being receptionists and show it) and the doctors and nurses were nice. So, no one likes a speculum up their hoohaa (and not the fish, the anatomical part!) first thing in the morning, but it was okay. The only part that terrified me was the pregnancy test. They make you do it anyway. And I sat there for twenty minutes saying “no, no…that’s impossible. It’s fucking impossible” and seeing my life before my eyes. But they came in and were like “you’re good to go” and it made me happy.

And then…and then…and then…I got to see The General! Yay! And we’re going on vacation Friday!!!! I’m totally psyched.

So today, I woke up bleeding profusely and it was not fun. But I went into work and nearly died. Until a miracle happened. The interim vetrinarian (my uncle is up north) bought us all bagels. From Manhattan. I nearly died with joy! And once I did the filing, I got to work on Welcome Wagon projects. Which means, I need 75 letters adressed and stuffed in envelopes but I get to work at home tomorrow! Working at home is rare, and it means I get to sleep in late!

After getting off work (and seeing the four cutest kittens ever!) I went to the store, went home, talked to the General and some other cool people, got dinner at the Diner, went to see dad, and took a shower. And now I’m here. Talking to you.

 Oh, and bittersweet news: my aunt’s house up in Franklin got struck by lightning (Sullivan and Delaware Counties got hit hard with storms) but luckily the rods deflected it. So they are all safe and sound.

Part I: The Healthcare System

Poor Michael Moore! Defamed for his “documentaries” which break laws and fail to use primary sources! In reality, I hate Michael Moore because of his so-called “documentaries” (in which any bright political analyst would say are more like dramas and satires instead), but I can’t wait to see Sicko. I am fed up with the healthcare system.
Case in point: I have been in excruciating pain all weekend long. Like I’ve cried more times in the past few days than in a long time. So today, I call the gynecologist’s office explaining that I am sick as a dog and it is preventing me from going to work. The dumb-as-a-bag-of-bricks receptionist goes “ohh…your period is late? Is your stomach distended?” I reply “yes”, because I look like a malnurished Sudanese child. She goes “oh, take a pregnancy test. You’re probably pregnant.” If any of you have half a brain, you would know that it takes about four months for pregnancy to start showing like my stomach was. And three weeks ago, we determined that I’m not pregnant. So good job on that one.
Anywho, she goes on and on about how I’m not a “priority” so they can’t take me in today. As you may or may not know, doctors usually reserve an hour or two after normal office hours to handle any special cases that may come in that day (you know, like a girl who has been in pain for an entire weekend and has vague symptoms of internal bleeding). Of course, they don’t want you to know that they reserve these spots, so I make sure not to mention it.
To make things worse, they get a slot for me. At 9:40 a.m. tommorrow. In Mahopac (I usually go to the Peekskill office). With a doctor who knows shit about me. Fun! So I will probably go tomorrow, my file still unopened, and get a lecture about how I’m too skinny (which could possibly mean that I am in excruciating pain and can not eat, you motherfuckers) and get told to wait it out. Sorry, but my job requires lifting things and dealing with people. I can’t be sick. I’ve done enough of that lately.
It’s sad when I could be getting better care at a hospital or free clinic, for half the cost.

To consider dear to me as my parents him who taught me this art; to live in common with him and if necessary to share my goods with him; To look upon his children as my own brothers, to teach them this art I will prescribe regimens for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone.

Remember that, doctors? That’s your Hippocratic Oath. If you break that, you get in big trouble. I didn’t finish college and I know that!

Part II: My Ovaries (And Those Who Just Don’t Understand!)

Okay, so my ovaries have been a bitch, as seen in part one. And, I have to admit, there is nothing I love more than good sympathy. Empathy is another story though. Don’t try to empathize with me unless you’ve been through what I’ve been through. I mean, I’ve had people come up to be and be like “oh, I know exactly what you feel like. This one time, I had really bad cramps…” Okay, stop there. One time. Not days straight. Not weeks or months or years of agonizing pain. Take your crampy, mestrual self and punch yourself as hard as you can in the stomach. That will tell you what I feel.
I mean, I am grateful for sympathy given. But in my opinion, I would rather have an “I’m sorry and I hope you feel better” than an “I know exactly what you’re going through” any day of the week.
I do have to say that I’ve been blessed to have such a good family (and good empathy…my aunt has PCOS too!), boyfriend, and friends by my side. But there are always one or two who have to try and make their situation as bad as mine, when in reality it’s not. It would be like me having this and telling someone with cancer that I know what they feel.

Part III: Popular Culture (And Worse…Pop Culture Addicts!)

AIM Today has this side site known as The Red Pill where it is all about celebrity gossip. Readers (who obviously don’t have jobs or sex) go and post who they think is ugly. Today’s article: Really bad bikini bodies.

Uma Thurman: “Not to be harsh or anything, but after Kill Bill she got a bit flabby. A one-piece maybe?” – MissyWasTaken
Kirsten Dunst: “She glows in the dark, she’s so pale! This, added with the fact that she doesn’t work out, equals one cringing paperazzi photo session. Is there any part of snaggletooth that’s attractive? Cover up, Kirsten!” – OscarDOOM
Cameron Diaz: “When she knows she’s being photographed, she looks super cute. It’s those candid beach shots by the paperazzi that aren’t all that flattering.” – TokenFemale

I think it’s hysterical. It’s a bunch of bitchy girls getting together and complaining because they are fat and no one likes them. I mean, look at members of the paperazzi. Are they at all attractive? I’m so surprised that AOL has not been sued for defamation of character. It’s about to come soon.
 

Part IV: Those Who Don’t Understand

Today, this guy Christopher posted about how gross smokers were and how they must be the most uneducated people on the face of the earth. Being that Winston Churchill smoked like a chimney (and knew it was bad for him!), I think the statement is untrue.
I just have an issue of people saying things like that that have never smoked a cigarette. I’ve had people pass judgement on me for having premarital sex, drinking, smoking (which I rarely do), etc. It all starts with “that’s so bad for you! How could you think of doing it?” My response is, “have you ever done it?” If the answer is no, sit down, and shut the fuck up. I’m not going to say that marijuana is intristically bad because I have never tried it. I can say it does bad things to you, though, because I’ve seen it happen to people. You can’t teach things are bad when you have never tried them. It doesn’t work like that.
They want to charge parents who smoke/drink in front of their kids, or give their kids trans fats with child endangerment. I love “nanny state” laws because parents are still burning children alive (much to the chagrin of DYFS workers) and DYFS workers are still neglecting their posts, and now they want to add to that load? Amazing.
It’s funny. I thought this country was about freedom. Even if it did mean eating a trans fatty acid or two.

I am in love with the best man in the entire world.

My ovaries are growling right now like a bitch. I think they need to be named.