I posted on Facebook today that I hate waiting. I'm not a patient person when it comes to wasting my time. I went to work and then straight to the doctor for an appointment where I waited. And I waited. And can you believe there were NO FREAKIN' female magazines! Well, there were baby magazines, Family Fun, Parenting, Golf, ESPN, Car and Web MD. There was also a Bible that I figured was there for people who are really sick and need to change their wicked ways.
Back to waiting. I read the entire Bible.....well, I could have if I knew I'd be waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes. Then the medical assistant asked me to step on the scales and I whined like a four year old, "I didn't want to get weighed today."
She was very sympathetic, "I know, with this cold weather everyone has all those extra layers on." 'Cause it's bloomin' snowing today, folks - snowing in April!!! As if Pia getting voted off American Idol wasn't stupid enough.
The numbers appeared on the scales, "I don't really weigh that much." She humored me, "How much do you really weigh?" I subtracted 29 lbs. "Really? 20 lbs of extra clothing?" she asked.
"You do realize I'm here for depression and you're really not helping matters." She led me into another room where I waited for another 20 minutes. Newsweek or Marie Claire? Holy crap. I'm already smart and beautiful. They have nothing to offer me.
I went to the pharmacy and I had to wait some more because they didn't have my prescription ready. Then I was told my med needed a FREAKIN' PRE-AUTHORIZATION and guess what? Because I waited so long at the doctor's office it was now 5:00 in the evening and I would have to wait until possibly Monday. That gives me two more days to possibly go on a crime spree.
My husband suggested we go out to dinner and because I'm very considerate of his time, I decided to warn him about the waiting time. So we decided to meet there and while I was telling the kids to get in the car he called and asked me to wait for him instead. When we got to the restaurant they had a waiting time of 45 minutes. You add that to the waiting time it takes for the server to take your order and then the waiting time to bring your food, the drink refills, the free bread sticks, the mints and the bill and ........ so we went somewhere else.
Mimi needed to go to the bathroom and so I came with her to show her where the bathroom is and took the opportunity to wash my hands. As we were leaving I caught a glimpse of a very large brown slug on the floor in one of the stalls. I stepped back to take another look and it wasn't a slug. I said, "Ew. Is that a turd?"
"I can't look or I'll be sick," Mimi says. She was obviously switched at birth.
That had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this story, but I thought you would like that part. Your welcome. But at least I was a responsible parent and chaperoned my kid to the bathroom unlike some. At least I hope that was a kid......or a stray animal. Did I mention this restaurant kind of rhymes with Crapper Barrel?
I guess I won't be tying my stories together, they are what they are.
Friday Dec. 20th
7 hours ago
11 comments:
ROFL!!! I love you! Did you really b.s. the nurse about your weight? I'm totally doing that next month when I have to see my oncologist!
And I will NEVER use the restroom at the Crapper Barrel under any circumstances. Did you tell someone about the "slug"? Eeeeewww!
You are not going to take us to dinner at Crapper Barrel are you??
Funny! Only could happen to you Krista. I hate the wait at the doctor's office too.
You need to hang out in our waiting room. As many US Weekly's your heart can take.
You are out of control!!!!!
I guess I'll NEVER be going to Crapper Barrel. I've never been there but I guess subliminally I know there was a crappin' good reason.
Sorry about all the waiting you had to do.............oh, could you wait a second? I gotta take this call................
Ok, now I can finish the post.
Uh, I love yer guts.
Krista...all this waiting is for patience...were you induced when you gave birth to your children my dear?
I just read on facebook that my daughter in law, wife of my first born son, is having her child ONE WEEK EARLY on Tuesday if it hasn't come by then.
Does she not know that Grandparents need to be notified by phone call or LIVE. Could we maybe have scheduled our carpet to be laid some other time, rather than Tuesday and I am also working that day.
Does she think i am suppose to have sympathy that she cannot wait for the REAL day the child is suppose to come. I mean, I always went 2 weeks over. I didn't know there were options. (okay, I was induced one time out of 3).
Isn't this child birth WAITING meant to give us PATIENCE, cause we KNOW, we are going to need it.
And I hope you didn't KILL SOMEONE not getting your medication till Monday. Hope your locked away in a room somewhere without husband and children.
good luck.
ummm... I had some funny comments - but now you're going to have to wait until next time because EWwwwww...
actually, the thought of the slug there grossed me out as much as the "other"... I really have a fear of slugs...
trust me, after living in the Seattle area for a few years it is well earned.
because slugs are harder to wash off of your feet than poo.
true story.
WELL, WE'VE BEEN WAITING for you to write...so now we're even. Really? A turd on the wall? Really. I got nothin' to even remotely come close to competing with that. Sorry about the weigh in. But my FAVORITE part was that you told her what you really weigh. I didn't know I could just tell them the correct number. I'm trying that next time, and I'll use you as a reference. :)
Love your stories Krista!
TOOOO FUNNY!! You should write a book, or be doing the comedy club circuit. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, you have a very Bombeckesque way of telling a story, and Erma Bombeck got rich doing that! (See "The Grass Is Always Greener Over The Septic Tank", now playing at your local library)
I have worked with some slugs of that ilk. Most were not brown, but they were of that same ilk nonetheless. They were mainly albino slugs, who undoubtedly thought the workplace was a small ceramic swimming pool with a lid. Then there's the story of Winnie the Poo(h) - who was, in fact, brown.
Did I tell you the story about "My Mother is allergic to semen"? If I didn't, call me and I'll fill you in. It turned out to be a slight aural deficit on my part... but it was very funny at the time.
Now, print out all you postings and call a publisher...
For someone who complains about not being able to talk so much, you ought to blog more :)
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