Yesterday was a bad day. I'm suffering from a horrendous case of laryngitis that refuses to go away (I've suffered from chronic hoarseness off and on my whole adult life, primarily as a side effect of acid reflux). Dr. Mama gave me a script for "the little purple pill" to help combat both my current reflux issue and the current hoarseness (I do believe it's caused by a lingering cold as well, cause Charlie has some of the same symptoms).
Naturally, my evil giant HMO doesn't want to pay for "the little purple pill" and would rather pay for "Class C drug that will kill the baby." I spent most of the day on the phone with Dr. Mama's nurse, my pharmacy*, and the evil HMO.
I ended up yelling at the HMO people, but because I have no voice, I had to yell while WHISPERING. So my charges of "You people are trying to kill my baby!" lost their power since I could only whisper.
Eventually, I decided the proper response was to burst into tears.
I felt pretty down after that, but a hot chocolate (and a 3 Musketeers bar) plus instant messaging with Moxie cheered me up immensely. Plus I registered for the fucking cutest Classic Pooh stuff at Target. That helped too. Although they are currently out of stock on the stuffed Piglet, which is sooooo not acceptable.
*I'm very excited about finding a fabulous non-chain local pharmacy. They think I'm weird, though, because I called them first and asked if they dispensed Emergency Contraception (ironically, the store is staffed by Catholic school girls, but so is every store in my neighborhood); when they said that wouldn't be a problem, I said "Great! I don't need any. But how do I tranfer my prescriptions to you?"
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I thought a fun topic for today would be "Dangerous & Stupid." I've been discussing some of the things I've done in my life that would fall into that category with some of you via email. I thought I would list my top three things here. And yes, they are ALL from back when I was drinking...
1. When I was 15, I went with my boyfriend and FIVE of his friends to the x-rated drive-thru movie theater. We saw Insatiable II, starring iron-necked Marilyn Chambers. They had to sneak me in because I was underage (and yes, none of them were under 18). I hid under their legs in the backseat. I tell you, you have not seen a porno movie until you see an erect penis on a movie screen that is bigger than your house. Luckily, the guys all spent the whole time guzzling beers and paid me no mind. It could have been very, very bad.
2. That time I got in the car with strangers... Jesus, this one was bad. So my roomie Sara (no, not Sarah, the one before Sarah without the "h") and I went out drinking with this guy Joe, who was a buddy of my high school boyfriend and Sara had a huge crush on him. Ahem. As we left the bar to go back to our car (actually, my mom's car. Sorry Mom!), these guys in a souped-up old GTO or something pulled over and asked us if we knew where they could cop some pot. We were trying to tell them, but they were from the suburbs (Jersey) and didn't understand the directions. Next thing I know, Joe is getting in their fucking car. Joe was from New York City, and had no idea where we were, but he insisted we get in too. Which we did. So off we go to the Badlands. We finally find a dealer, who hands these idiot Jersey boys a sample... and the idiot Jersey boys take off and drive away. The dealer and his friends chased the car; one of them was actually hanging from the window. Shots were fired in our direction. The Jersey boys were hooting and hollering and very proud of themselves. Sara and I were screaming at them to let us out of the car RIGHT FUCKING NOW! The Jersey boy that was driving reaches under his seat and pulls out a sawed-off shotgun. Points it at us in the back seat and tells us to shut up. We both freak the fuck out and start yelling more intensely, at which point the guys slam on the brakes and open the door and begin tossing us out of the car. My left foot was barely out of the car when they drove off. Ironically, they dumped us right in front of where we'd parked our car. We went back to our place and drank my mom's entire bottle of Irish Bushmills (again, sorry Mom!). What a night.
3. Back when I was a slut (don't you love sentences that start out that way?), I rarely if ever went to the home of the guy I'd picked up. I usually brought them to my house, where I made them meet my dog. If she didn't like them, I made them leave (and yes, that happened several times. The guys were always shocked). But one time I met this Italian dude and went to his apartment because it was near the bar. We got there, and he had NO furniture. Seriously. None. A sleeping bag on the floor. I should have left, but I didn't. The guy turned out to be a dud; he was terrible in bed. So I left, and went back to the bar. And, um, I picked up someone else. Yikes. Those were the days!
So, what are your top three?
