The Midol isn’t for me. It is for my oldest son. He has a case of the PMS, Pre Manhood Syndrome. He just turned 12 and his hormones are starting to turn a sweet little boy into a mouthy douche.
I am not a morning a person but the going ons of this morning would make the most sunny, happy, morning person turn to the bottle. It starts with PMS boy being pissed that I’m not letting him use his uniform free pass. That resulted in an eye roll, an “Oh my gawd!” and stomping off. Then I’m not sure what happened but he ended up locking himself in the bathroom saying that he hates his life and isn’t going to school. I was getting ready to bust down the door, because I handle these things so well at 6:45 am. Finally he comes out and gets dressed. Then the next son starts bitching. For some reason my sugar turned into a solid brick. He is complaining about not being able to put sugar on his cereal. So I do what anyone mother at the end of her rope does at 6:55 am. I got out the hammer. Not thinking ahead, I start beating the piss out of the bag of sugar. Of course the paper bag rips and what little sugar I managed to break up is leaking out. Shit! Now I put the brick in a ziploc bag and start wailing on it. It worked good enough to get them all cereal. If that hadn’t worked I was going to run over the sugar with my car, since I am so rational in the morning. Finally with everyone off to school I said “Fuck it” and went back to bed.
If only I had my camera with me today. I was driving down Lake between Sheridan and Knoxville. There was a sign on a florist’s shop that says they have “balloon bokays”. Really? Bokays? I know what a bouquet is but I know I’ve never seen a bokay. I’m sure their balloon bokays are bootiful. 
I want to be Blago. No, it isn’t the head of hair. I want to be blissfully oblivious to the heap of shit I’m in. I want to say outrageous wacky shit and have people lap it up like fine wine. While the whole world is falling apart around me I want to go for a run in some nut huggin’ pants without a care in the world.
If the asshat doesn’t end up in prison people will be falling all over themselves get his opinion on the news of the day. He’ll end up some super douche cult icon. He’ll be the “Joe the Plumber” of corruption. You just gotta love the society we live in.
My youngest son has been complaining of stomach pain on and off for a little bit. He has a tender tummy and picks up stomach bugs easily. I figured he had a virus. Almost everyday for the past two weeks he has pleaded with me to stay home from school. Now I am starting to think there is something going on at school. I sat him down and asked him if there was anything going on and gave him the “You can tell us anything and we’ll love you no matter what” speech. He insisted that nothing was wrong.
Wednesday, I decided if he was going to ask to stay home that we were going to the doctor to make sure everything was okay. I called our regular doctor and they could not get him in until late afternoon. That wouldn’t work because I need to be home for my other children afterschool. So I decide that I would give Methodist Medpointe a try. That is where I was horribly wrong.
The office staff and the nurse were extremely friendly. Then the doctor came in. She was obviously dismayed by the fact that East Bluff riff raff had slipped through the invisible fence that keeps us all South of War Memorial Drive. She sizes me up and asks me why my child isn’t in school in the most condescending tone I have ever heard. Well, maybe it is the fact that he is having stomach pain or that when your nurse took his temperature he had a fever! Then she starts in about his weight. According to her he should weigh 75 pounds because of his height. All my boys are skinny and tall. That is how they are built. They all eat quite well, I can assure you. So she pushes on his stomach and refers him to a pediatric GI specialist.
I have never been treated like I was a complete piece of trash the way I was by this doctor. Even my son said, “Mom, she was a snot to you.” By the time she was done with me I was ready to call DCFS on myself! I’m sure she thinks that my son isn’t in school because he is running a pickpocketing ring to finance my gambling/strip club that I run out of my basement! He’s skinny because of all the cocaine he does and because he has to fight all our pitbulls for food!
I will never set foot in Methodist Medpointe again. I will pay the extra money (double my already high copay) to go to Proctor First Care. I am also going to complain to Methodist. We don’t pay ridiculous health insurance premiums and copays for this. Just imagine if I was on medicaid?! I don’t care how long you went to school or who the hell you think you are, you don’t treat people like that.
UPDATE: I have spoke with someone on Methodist’s pride line. She couldn’t believe how poorly I was treated. She had an adminstrator call me for more details and now I am expecting a call from the guy who oversees all the Medpointes. I was told that he will perform an investigation and interview the staff of the Medpointe and the doctor from hell. He’ll get back to me when that is completed.
Since my children (all boys) have been cooped up in the house for 2 days due to the freezing ass cold temps, they have had to entertain themselves. They have been growing bored with their toys and playstation games. Nothing is on TV so they have found a new way to entertain themselves. I suddenly hear “Ouch!” and an uproar of laughter. Then I hear it again, repeatedly. Even though I really don’t want to know what is going on, I feel I have to, being their mother and all. I find my boys dragging their feet across a blanket and shocking each other for shits and giggles. Boy, am I a proud mom! At least they were having fun and I’m sure the brain damage will be minimal. I’ll worry when they have the paint chip eating contest.
I am so glad this weekend is over. We have had dreams of finishing our basement. Nothing fancy, mainly cosmetic, like paint and flooring. One of the things impeding us was the fact that the pipe to our outside faucet leaks in our basement when it is turned on. We haven’t wanted to put any resources into the basement just to have them ruined by water damage. So this weekend Brad decides to fix the leak. The job that Brad assured my best friend would be done by 10 pm Saturday night didn’t get finished until Sunday at dinner. To be fair there was a football break in that time period. The simple leak ended in us redoing all the cold water pipes. I am just excited to have it done. Or maybe it is the plumbering glue fumes, I can’t be sure but I decide to tackle another household problem.
My washing machine has been broke for a bit. I haven’t gotten it fixed because I lost my warranty and the place I bought it couldn’t find record of my warranty. My next door neighbor has been kind enough to let me use her wash machine. The fact that I give her booze for this service probably doesn’t hurt either. While Brad is being a piping maniac, in the plumbing sense, not his usual sense, I find my warranty. I am giddy, once again I think it was the fumes. I am reading through my owners manual and the problem I was having, a burning smell, was in the troubleshooting section. It said that my washer was overloaded. I was pretty sure it wasn’t but wanted to make sure before I call a repair man. So I decide to plug it back in and fill her up. So far so good. It filled and went through the wash cycle without incident. Then it fills for the rinse cycle and as soon as it starts spinning there is the most vile smell you could possibly imagine. I turn the dial to drain the tub. After the tub drains it starts to spin again, this time with a smoke show. I shut it off and unplug it as smoke flows out it. So now my house stinks and it is full of smoke. What do you think my children do? They make a fire safety obstacle course in our basement. They are crawling all over, yelling “Stay below the smoke! Stop, drop and roll!” I guess a call to the repair man is now in order.
I was reading the classified ads in Sunday’s Peoria Journal . I came across a most intriguing job. Swinger’s World needs a jismopper. Now this is no minimum wage job. $10 an hour! So if downsizing has you down, just know you can always go be a jismopper. It truly is “Better in Peoria”.
I was folding my laundry and watching good old Blago’s speech. Afterwards the news anchor had two pundits on to discuss the asshattery that evolved. He asked them “How does he (Roland Burris) avoid the smell of a taint?” My first thought is not to stick his head down there! 
My youngest son was opening a toy remote control helicopter he got from my parents. He takes out the intructions and sees the obligatory “warning” on the pamphlet. He says, “Warnings! I don’t need no warnings!” and chucks the intructions to the side. Now whose son is that?
Merry Christmas Everyone!
While I’m bitching about the storm, I’ll go ahead and add my rant about Ameren.
My tree snapped my next door neighbor’s electric line 6 AM Friday morning. She called Ameren and they tell her they will be out. So she sits in her house without power and heat, yet thankful that no one was hurt. The meter reader comes by. Our meter is indoors so I actually talk to the guy. He asked me if I knew that there was a line down. I told him that it was my neighbor’s line and that she had called in to report it. He also called in to report it. We think maybe this will speed things up, considering it is laying in the road and alley way.
My husband comes home and begins hacking away at the limb balancing on our cable line. He also hacks at the tree that smashed the neighbor’s shed and partially landed on her son’s car. We see Ameren on the block behind our and get excited. “Neighbor is getting power back!” we foolishly think. Ameren pulls down our street, slows down, looks at the down line and keeps on driving. We almost cried. So I call Ameren to complain about the down line and lack of power. They tell me that they will get right on it.
Fast forward to later that night, the neighbor calls back to check the status of Ameren as her house gets colder and colder. She is told that it was reported as only a line down and not a power outage. WTF???? I’m not sure what else a line down could mean! Considering she called and told them she had no power and I called to report her lack of power, how the hell could they not know she had no power?
Finally after 36 hours without power Ameren shows up. The technician asked if she was okay. She told him that if she had a stick up her ass she would be a popsicle. He told her he didn’t have a stick! Okay they redeemed themselves a bit with that line. Finally her power was restored.
We understand that there are priorities such as hospitals, traffic signals, etc. but be competent in the first place. Shit, any moron knows that no line no power. Why doesn’t the call center?
We really appreciate the men and women who had to work in the weather to restore services to the city. It isn’t their fault. They do the job dispatch tells them. As the weather today gets shittier and shittier I really hope we don’t have another on like last Thursday and Friday.
Comments (2) 