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2003-06-04
12:56 p.m.
Kind of a miserable day. Can things be �kind of� miserable? I think it�s too strong of a word to use halfway. Whatevs� I am waiting around to go into work, waiting for my cold medicine to kick in. I can�t stand sore throat and runny noses. And I don�t even have a nice sunny June day to pep me up. It is another freezing summer afternoon here in Michigan. Nice, gray, and damp just like my tonsils. I heard from D! He wrote me an email and told me that the Finnish don�t have internet in their homes. What kind of place is that? Are they Stalinists? Speaking of the iron fist. I got turned away at the pharmacy. Seems my prescription needs prior authorization. This is different than the doctor writing the prescription which one would think was authorization enough. The pharmacy technician used her best slow, irritated talking-to-an-idiot voice with me. I was standing there holding three different kinds of cold medicine experiencing post-nasal drippage so severe that my hearing was impaired and she takes that tone with me. Did miss smarty pants with shitty highlights gather that I might be a little confused and for sure cranky? Nope. But what do you expect from a gal who spends eighty bucks to have her hair look like crap. Highlights are pricey. Ladies please stop with them. I am very irritated by highlights today. The pharmacy was my last stop on a morning of errands that included a quick drive in at Mr. Muffler to get my rattling underside looked at. I had to wait in a smokey waiting room while some short guy explained his car problems in depth to the mechanic. The whole time another woman, this one with highlights that looked like she didn�t even try, puffed on her ciggies and drank OJ with a smile, probably because she knew how crappy second-hand smoke feels on a sore throat. And probably because all half-blonde woman are jealous of my glorious reddish-brunette chemo-curls and middle-of-a-move wrinkly fashion. So I wait and I wait for Mr. The batterystartswhenichargeitsometimes to finish barking at the mechanic all the while suffering from the second-hand smoke of the woman with highlights the color of her cheap OJ. Suddenly this freak man finishes by telling the mechanic that he is just going to get rid of his car and then he leaves. I did get to see the underside of my car. I need a whole new exhaust system. The smell of a garage irritates my throat. This world is irritating my throat. huh? - 2004-01-15 resolutions - 2004-01-09 video reason - 2003-12-30 sik - 2003-12-06 voiceless - 2003-11-19
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