Catching Up

So . . . yeah. Ok, it’s been an eternity, but I really do have a valid excuse. I pushed an entire human person out of my nether-regions and that tiny human hasn’t let me sleep since. There is very little time for blogging in my world right now, honestly. But I did want to let everyone know that I am indeed still here, albeit entirely consumed by a little hungry tyrant who demands my every waking moment. And most of my sleeping moments as well. For the first 3 months, all he did was scream and eat. Lather, rinse, repeat. And while, obviously, that’s what newborns do so suck it up already, it’s been tiring and draining to say the least.

But I’m guessing you want details, right?  Yes?  No?  Who are you again?  Maybe?  Well, let’s go back.  To a magical time when I was getting 8 hours of sleep a night (except for the 4 times a night I got up to pee).  There I was . . . very pregnant and excited for my 3rd child to be born, and hoping he would grace us with his presence early.

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I  had the big belly . . . I had the painted toes . . . I had the nursery all ready.  Now, all we needed was a baby!  He faked us out by pretending to come a week early, but once I got to the hospital, he apparently changed his mind.  Damn you, Braxton Hicks!!  He played with my emotions for about a week, with occasional contractions that made me hopeful, but ultimately ended in disappointment and frustration.  Finally, though, on his due date, he started making moves to enter the world.  For real this time.  So, after being up all night with contractions that continued until the next afternoon, a labor that was quite harrowing as his heartbeat slowed drastically with every contraction, and an epidural that slipped out of my back and had to be re-administered during the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, he finally entered the world.  On December 1st, at 7 pounds, 4 ounces and 21 inches, he was healthy and beautiful.  I mean, just look at him!

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And since that moment he has totally filled my world and my heart.  I am with him pretty much every moment of the day and it is wonderful, frustrating, fulfilling and exhausting.  However, once he arrived, I made a pretty drastic decision.  I will no longer be a slave to the corporate world as an attorney, but will instead solely be a slave to my kids as . . . wait for it . . . a stay at home mom!  Since this is my last baby, I just couldn’t hand him over to child care workers and run back to work, like I did with my first two kids.  So, my new full time job is MOM.  We sent the au pair off about 2 weeks ago, and so far it’s been great.  I mean, it’s tough trying to juggle the newborn and also the older kids’ school schedules, but that’s only temporary.  It will get a bit more manageable when the baby is older and not eating every 2-3 hours.  But so far, I think I’m doing fabulous at my new job.  I mean, I even clean the baby occasionally!

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And I think I even worked out what was making him scream so much.  At first I thought it was colic.  Then the doctor said it was just reflux.  But I started to suspect it had something to do with an aversion to dairy.  Then again, he would also be miserable it I ate anything that was a gassy food (i.e. almost all fruits and veggies).  So, basically I’ve cut out all dairy from my diet and avoid almost every fruit, veggie, oily fish, nut and pasta.  But other than that, I can eat anything I want!  Yeah, that pretty much leaves me with meats and breads (as long as they don’t have milk in them).  And you wouldn’t believe how many things have dairy in them!  Pretty much everything, dammit.  So, it’s been frustrating to completely change my diet, but worth it for him not to wake up screaming in pain every night.  Oh, and did I mention that I also haven’t had a drink in over a year?  I am having the most fun!  Parenthood is such a joy.

And we probably don’t need to talk about the fact that I turned 40 three weeks ago as well, now do we?

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Thanks, hubs!

So, now you know where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing these past few months.  And honestly, I can’t promise that this means a return to blogging regularly (or even sporadically) from now on, but I’ll at least try to check in occasionally.  If my little tyrant allows it.  Here’s hoping.

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A Comedy of Tragedies

As I have fully elucidated previously, I am going through a bit of a rough time.  I’m a strong bitch, though, so I’m weathering it.  It hasn’t broken me quite yet, so here I am, blogging away for your amusement.  You lucky peeps.

However, when it rains it pours, and apparently my life is caught in a monsoon right now.  And while the additional water damage has resulted mostly from quick and inconsequential showers, it nevertheless is an annoyance and calls for an umbrella. 

For example, while my kids were away for a week with their grandparents a few weeks ago, I decided that would give me a perfect opportunity to do some cleaning and organizing that had been waiting for my attention for way too long.  So, I set my focus upon the cabinet under the sink in my bathroom.  When I first moved into my house around six years ago, this under the sink cabinet was organized with baskets and the well thought out placement of toiletry necessities.  Since then, it has become a hodge podge of precariously towering items that have landed there after my careless tossing of said item into the cabinets, and then swiftly closing the doors so as not to witness the toppling of said piles of junk.  So, basically what I am saying is that this area has not had a good cleaning and/or organizing in many years and it was way overdue. 

As I began to pull out the massive amounts of accumulated stuff from the cabinet, I finally unearthed the original baskets that were buried under all of this product.  It was when I had finally removed the baskets and everything else from under the sink that I realized I had a big problem.  This:

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I realized that I had apparently had a leak at some point in the past however many years, and because there was so much junk, I never realized it.  And during all those sweet days of ignorance, the water had been creating little mildew babies who had grown into huge adult sized spores of unhealthy disgustingness.  So, I immediately sent my hubs to the store for massive bleach type cleaning products and some paint, thinking I could scrub it down and then hopefully paint over it.  But alas, that was not to be.  It was relatively thin plywood, and it was soaked in.  There would be no scrubbing it off.  Additionally, the damage was on the back wall as well, so there was nothing much to be done.  We were going to need to call our home improvement guy (yes, we have a guy), to come over and see if he could replace the plywood.

And, I imagine that you can guess what the answer to that was, based on my current record of receiving good news.  Yeah, the answer was no.  They were going to have to replace the entire thing.  Which was going to cost beaucoup cash.  Cash which we did not have.  So, I got used to having all of the stuff under my cabinet in the middle of the floor in my bedroom.  But it was a pain in the ass.  Finally, after many weeks of this, I told my husband that he needed to call the guy, because it was getting on my damn nerves and just needed to be fixed.  We’d figure out a way to pay.  So, the next day, I came home to this:

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Hmmm, I feel like something’s missing here . . .

Yes, they took the WHOLE SINK.  I was not prepared for that.  So, now I am not only without a cabinet to use, but I have no sink.  And I’m told it was sent to “la la land” (quoth the hubs), to get it custom redesigned to fit in the space.  Who knew a sink was so much trouble?  Well, now you do.

And, along with this wonderful annoyance, there came another very itchy one . . . this:

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My hand and wrist broke out in some sort of mystery rash.  It only went from my thumb down to where my watch was when whatever I touched came into contact with my hand.  I have no idea what I am allergic to that caused this, as my well known allergen of pine (Christmas tree decorating is a joy!), was nowhere to be seen on these summer days.  I wasn’t too concerned until about 2 days later when it started itching like crazy and then a few days after that, it looks like this:

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Yep, over a week and there are still angry little red dots.  At this point it has stopped itching, but I’m fearful it will scar.  I look like I have leprosy.  Fun times.

Oh, but I’m not done yet.  The most annoying event to occur was this past Monday.  Apparently, when I went to bed on Sunday night, I didn’t feel the need to change the time on my alarm to a work appropriate wake up time.  Nope, it was still set to weekend time.  That would be 7:45, by the way.  So, on Monday morning, instead of the alarm waking me at the ungodly hour of 5:00 (and then smacking the bejesus out of that sucker about 12 times before I got up), to give me enough time to get ready for work and then drive the hour it takes to get there . . . yeah, you see where this is going.

So, here’s a little math problem for you.  Solve for X:  If attorney has to be in court by 9:00, has an hour-long drive from point A (home) to point B (work), and awakens from an apparently very restful sleep at 7:45 . . . X = which normal preparatory activities did attorney not have time to do before leaving her house.

Here’s a visual clue:

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I assure you, I AM making a duckface.

Now, for you male readers out there that are like, “what?  I don’t get it.  What’s the big deal?”  Lemme ‘splain . . . that is my hair pulled back in a quick and messy ponytail bun.  Which I wore . . . to court.  I do not wear ponytail buns to court.  It is not pretty, nor is it professional.  In fact, I don’t wear my hair back at all, like this or any other way, to work ever.  Once again, I find it unprofessional.  For someone else, they might think it’s no big deal, but I do not feel that way.  To give you a point of reference, every single person that I saw today asked me if I was ok or if there was something wrong.  So, this is very out of the norm for me.  It was not one of my better days.

I’m thinking . . . things can only go up from here, right?  Right?  HELLO??  (Knocks furiously on any wood surface available!).

Our Milkshake Brings All the Freaks to the Yard

I have lived and worked in and around Baltimore my entire life.  Except for a brief stint in the farmlands of Pennsylvania for college, where I missed city life horribly, I have never lived anywhere else.  It is my home.  And I love it.

And while my undying love for my home city is true, that has never seemed to be the case for outsiders looking in.  The city has always had the reputation of being a lesser city somehow.  It’s neighbor to the south, Washington DC is more of a real city, while B-more has long suffered an also ran status.  Paling in size and popularity to other Northeastern cities . . . New York, Boston, Philadelphia . . . Baltimore has always quietly existed, content in its own skin.  Not looking for fame or recognition from any of its Northern brethren.

But lately, it seems, our little town has experienced a surge in popularity.  Three years ago, we became the home to the Baltimore Grand Prix.  A car race that is televised and occurs on Labor Day weekend, closing half the streets of downtown for famous racecar drivers to zoom around.  Although, definitely not popular with many of the workers attempting to enter and then leave the city, since a large part of the area of ingress and egress is completely closed off many days before the race.  However, it is a boon for Baltimore, as it brings in much money from tourism, so commuters be damned.

Also, it was reported recently that this summer there has been a spike in visits and funds spent in this city, as the hospitality industry in my fair town is apparently seeing a spike as well.

This could have something to do with the multiple very popular conventions that were scheduled this summer in the downtown convention center.  I have previously mentioned the Brony convention, which was a first for the city this year, and brought a ton of Bronies to the downtown area, surely boosting sales to many local hotels and restaurants.

And of course we have Otakon.  That convention has shown up in our city for many years, and brings with it oh so many fans of all things Asian culture and video games, who have the tendency to dress in costumes ranging from Pokemon & Sonic to the most garishly crazy video game demons imaginable, and everything in between.  It is one of the wackiest and most anticipated weekends of the year (at least for those who appreciate ridiculousness personified walking out in public).

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Just a little sampling of all the craziness I was able to capture on my way into and out of the city.

So, after the Bronies and the Otakons, you would think I’d be prepared for anything, right?  Well, I thought all the conventions were gone and there would be no more freaks to be seen until next summer.  Apparently, I was wrong.

Leaving work this past Tuesday, I stopped at a light near the convention center.  What I saw on the corner was what looked very much like a stripper.  And before you think I’m calling some poor innocent girl who is just dressed a bit skimpily a stripper, let me paint you a picture:  Pink cowboy hat, long flowing blond hair, long fingerless gloves, pink bra, pink underwear with a short black mesh skirt over top, cowboy boots.  Right?  Here, you judge for yourself:

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Not your NORMAL Tuesday afternoon attire, no?

Now, this is not the type of corner you would usually see something like this.  This is downtown.  Next to the business district.  On a Tuesday.  With no conventions in town.  It was a little unexpected.  So, when the light changed, and I started driving closer, on my way to passing by, I tried to get a closer look, while also taking another picture.  But driving and picture taking are not really the most companionable tasks, so unfortunately, I only got a leg.

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Yeah, I know. It’s bad.

But if you look closely at that picture, you might notice something.  Those are neither panties nor bikini bottoms.  They are in fact . . . jockeys.  That’s right, this sexy stripper was actually a transvestite stripper.  Which became blatantly obvious as I got closer and he turned around, giving me a full view of his very hairy chest and 2 day stubbly facial growth.  Yikes!  Not what I was expecting.  Sorry that I couldn’t get a better picture, because, well, you kind of had to see it.  This guy was obviously very lost.  He was on Baltimore street, but a full 5 or 6 blocks west of the area he was probably looking for . . . Baltimore’s red light district, also known as “the block.”

Apparently, there is no end to the things I get to see while working downtown.  I’m not sure I can take much more, though.  I’m starting to feel a little violated, frankly.  At this point, pretty much the only thing I haven’t experienced yet is a Furrie convention.

Then again, there’s always next year.

Who Wants to Touch The Butt?

Last week, I extolled the various virtues of the Fred & Friends company, and listed all of their most popular items.  Then, I put one of those items up for grabs in a giveaway, and was treated to various and sundry crappy office stories from y’all, in your attempts to win this lovely item.  (Not that your stories were crappy, they were stories about crappy offices).

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Thank you for that.  It makes me feel just this much better about my own crappy job.  Only a little, though, because after a 3 hour brutal surprise trial on Tuesday afternoon, and then leaving work only to almost immediately run over a nail on the war zone city streets of this ghetto town, which necessitated sitting on the side of the road in rush hour traffic waiting for AAA . . . well, it has not been a stellar week at work.

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BUT . . . enough about my craptastic work environment . . . let’s see who won this prize for having their own crappy work story . . .

As always, I have employed the very distinct skills of my brilliant children to pick this item’s winner.  For this item, 5 was the one to employ his master picking services.

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And the winner of The Butt is . . .

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TABITHA CROW

Congrats Tabitha!!  Just send me your info at mistyslaws at gmail dot com, and I will send this super rad little toilet man to you so that you can use him however you see fit (we don’t judge here at Misty’s Laws!).  Although, based on your story, I’m not sure you will have anywhere to put him at work.  Might need to lose something on your desk . . . like your computer.

Enjoy!!

Wanna Be Friends?

I just adore Fred & Friends.  If you are also a fan, then you know of what I speak.  And if you’ve never heard of Fred & Friends . . . well, yes you have, actually.  Even if you don’t know you know.  Ya know?

A few weeks ago, I visited my friend JM’s blog, and saw a post where she talked about her new tea buddy, Mr. Tea.  And even though I don’t drink tea, I thought he was über adorable, so I wanted to see if the company that created her Mr. Tea, had any other items that were creative and adorable like her new little friend, yet were unrelated to tea drinking. 

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I pity the fool who don’t drink no tea!

So I went to the website of the company that made Mr. T, and fell in love with everything I saw there.  And while I was perusing the site, I realized that I had actually previously seen a bunch of their items and/or even owned a few.

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You’ve seen all of these, right?

And then of course, I came across an item that I have coveted since this past Christmas, but had no idea who made it.  I just knew that I wanted it, and still want it.  One day, maybe.

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Remember these? Um, yeah, ME TOO!

And then I found something that I had not seen before, but I thought would be just perfect as a cute gift for my secretary.  I love getting her kooky gifts just because she’s completely amazing and deserves gifts for no reason.  It’s how I do.  But then I thought, “Wait, me…..wouldn’t this also be a really great gift to give to someone else as well?”  And I thought-responded, “Why yes.  Yes it would.”  And then I stopped talking to myself, because it started making me feel as if I was going to be committed at any moment.  Gotta at least act as if I’m a normal member of society, right?

So, anyway . . . back to the item.  It’s another office supply, so some of you might not be interested, but I thought it was fun.  Then again, maybe it’s because I have two boys that pretty much can’t stop talking about all things farting and pooping and potty humor, and I’ve finally been drawn over to the dark side . . .

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“The Butt”

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This little beauty is called The Butt Station Desk Accessory Holder.  It is a little blue man, holding a roll of tape (the cutter thing is on his toes), sitting on a toilet seat full of paper clips, whilst holding a pen in his mouth.  Behind him, there is a space for a post-it pad and more pens.  This little guy has a lot going on.  If you are like me, and are currently feeling like you are actually working in a toilet every single day at work, then this is the perfect little guy for you to subtly display your displeasure for your craptastic job.

Oh, but wait!  Besides all of the cute little functional things that this little guy represents, he also has a secret talent.  What is that, you ask?  Well, his butt is a magnet that pulls out the paper clips when you lift him off of his perch.  Yep.

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But wait!  There’s more . . . if you call right now, you will get this bonus gift!  In addition to this lovely little gift that I bought both for my secretary and for one of you lucky contestants, I also bought a nifty set of pens that are also created by those irreverent and goofy bastards over there at Fred & Friends.  They are called “Borrow My Pen” and have faux business names and slogans on them.  They are rad. 

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And . . . there is one of these lovely pens stuck firmly in the little blue man’s mouth up there.  So, if you get this great toilet guy, you will also get one of the Borrow My Pen pens.

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This one.

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“Stuffed With Love Taxidermy
No Pet Too Small – Give Us a Call!
(ask about our goldfish and turtle discount)
fluffy4ever. com”

I know, right?  You are thinking, “how can she be this beautiful AND generous all at the same time?  It just can’t be possible!”  But it is, my friends.  It is.  It’s just a gift.

Ok, so . . . rules!  Tell me about why you need this toilet man at your crappy job.  Tell me a story about something goofy or crazy or just plain shitty that has happened at your place of work.  And although you won’t be judged on your story (as always, random out of the hat picking by my fellas), I do need to be entertained, so make ’em good.  I need something to distract me from this toilet bowl of a job I’m in! 

A lucky winner will be picked in a couple of weeks.  Good luck to all!

(In case you were wondering, my secretary absolutely adored this gift.  She liked it so much, that she walked around showing it to everyone, talking about how I know just the perfect things to get for her to represent her feelings about the job.  Yeah . . . it’s magical at my place of employ, as you can see.)

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**I was not compensated in any way for this post.  All opinions are my own, as I truly do love the Fred & Friends products.  I mean, how can you not love a company that refers to itself as “a lot like Santa Claus, but without all that breaking and entering?”  Seriously.  Love them. **

When Viruses Attack

It came out of nowhere.

There I was, innocently checking blogs on my work computer when suddenly . . . BLAM.  White screen.

What the . . . ?

My screen was completely blank and frozen.  I couldn’t Esc my way out of it, couldn’t get to my desktop or taskbar, and had no idea what was happening.

And then, after a couple minutes of fruitlessly attempting to do something on my computer, my screen was filled with what appeared to be a legal document.  A notice of some sort.  From the FBI.

Ruh Roh, Raggy!!

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As I began to peruse the document, which outlined certain violations of articles and subsections thereto, my heart began to beat faster and a cold sweat broke out on my brow.

They know.  Oh god, they know.  How could they?  I didn’t think my work computer was monitored by the feds.  How did this happen?  But somehow, they found out.  They know about . . . gulp . . . the blogging.

Your PC is blocked due at least one of the reasons specified below.

Violating Copyright or Related Rights Law.  Illegally using or distributing copyrighted content.  Yep, I am so guilty of that!  That one blog post I did where I used the perfect meme, from which I did not know the source.  Oh yes, I admit it.  That was me.  And then there was that video of Tesla’s Love Song I copied from YouTube and then sent to my friend via Facebook.  Oh man, I’m a repeat offender.  This is not good.  They’ve totally got me on this one!

Viewing or distributing prohibited pornographic content (child porn/zoophilia, etc.) . . . The what now?  I mean . . . oh no!  I can’t believe they know about my predilection for downloading pictures of baby animals having sex.  Oh the shame, the humiliation!

Violating the law on neglectful use of personal computer.  Huh, well . . . you’ve kinda stumped me on this one.  Because someone might have accessed my computer without my knowledge, thus enabling malware, I am responsible?  Also, this isn’t a personal computer, it’s a work computer.  Well, maybe this one just doesn’t apply to me.  Huh.

Well, I guess it’s time to face the music.  Now, I suppose I need to know what the repercussions are of my obviously illegal (and let’s face it, sinful) actions?

10 to 29 years of possible incarceration for all of those violations?  And a picture of hands in cuffs right there on the screen?  Wow, this must be serious.  But I’m too pretty to go to jail!  And prison orange is just not my color.  I might be able to get away with more of a navy or black if that’s an option . . . wait!  No, I will not be going to prison over this!  Isn’t there something I can do to make up for my transgressions and avoid jail time?

This law infringement (if not repeated – first time) may be considered as conditional in case you pay the fine to the State.  Wait, what’s this now? A fine, you say?  I can pay a fine and make this all go away?

Fines may only be paid within 72 hours after the infringement.  As soon as 72 hours elapse, the ability to pay the fine expires, and a criminal case is initiated against you.  Phew!  You mean no charges have been filed yet?  What a relief!  Well, I’ll just pay the fine then.  I mean, I just got this notice, so I’m sure it’s within 72 hours of my infringement.  But, how . . . where . . . when . . . how much?  I need details!  If only there was a helpful step by step explanation of how I can pay this fine and how much it will be.

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Oh, look here at the bottom of the page.  Helpful tips on how I can make this whole thing go away, and also have the FBI relinquish its hold on my computer.  Hooray!

To unblock the computer, you must pay the fine through MoneyPak of $200.  $200??  Whoa, that’s kinda steep.  I mean, I don’t just have $200 lying around to pay government agencies that tap into my computer and threaten me with legal action!  Who am I, Bernie Madoff?

But then again . . . being prosecuted for copyright infringement/pornography would probably jeopardize my employment status.  I imagine my boss would not be very happy with me once he finds out what I’ve been doing on my office computer.  I mean, blogging at work?  That may even be a terminable offense!  And then, no more paychecks for me.  Plus, I would definitely need to hire a lawyer specializing in this field, as I really don’t practice in cyber law or copyright infringement.  And you know what they say about lawyers representing themselves, right?  And I ain’t no fool.  No sir, not me.

So really, it would be cheaper to just pay the fine.  I mean, as long as I pay them quickly, it shouldn’t take that long for them to unlock the computer, right?  And maybe then no one will ever know about . . . about . . . the blogging.

When you pay the fine, your PC will get unlocked in 1 to 48 hours after the money is put into the State’s account.  Well, there you go!  As soon as I pay the money, they will go ahead and unlock my computer.  I mean, at most it will take them 48 hours, but still.  I’ll get my computer back, and no harm no foul.

Then again . . . what is this “State” they keep referring to?  I mean, isn’t this the Federal Government?  Which State are they talking about?  And what is this part where they say a service fee of $4,95 will apply Why the comma after the 4?  Is that just a typo?  And speaking of typos . . . what’s with the poorly written text of this letter?  I mean, if I didn’t know better, I would think it was crafted by someone who’s primary language was not English.

But then again, there is that little warning there on the side about fraud.  I mean, how ironic would it be if this was a fraudulent letter warning me of fraud?  That just makes my head spin too much for it to be true!

Oh, but this must be legit.  There.  Right there at the bottom.

FBI.gov is an official site of the U.S. Federal Government, U.S. Department of Justice.  Really, along with the very official looking seal up at the top of the page and all of the articles and subsections quoted in the text, this must be the real thing.  Right?

Now, where did I put my credit card?  I need to go to one of the listed establishments and find me a MoneyPak to load some cash onto, then send it off to these very helpful Federal Agents.  Then I will just sit back and wait for my computer to be unlocked.  What could go wrong?

And hey . . . let’s keep that little thing about the animals and watching their intimate relations just between us, mkay?  Cool, thanks.  I knew you’d understand.  I mean, what with the things I’m sure you’ve download . . . yeah, I know all about it.  I read your blogs, remember?  And I’m pretty sure you don’t have any room to judge me, my friend.  Don’t make me call the feds.  I know how to contact them now, remember?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Shhhhhh!

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Have you ever been violated accused in such a horrible manner?  What was your virus like? 

A Trip to Influenza-ville

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I got sick last week.  I was expected to return to work on Wednesday, after a long holiday break.  But my body had other plans.  It, instead, decided that I apparently needed to start feeling like death.  So, despite the fact that I was due in court, I called in to work and told them there was no way I would be able to come in.  Because of my impending death, you see.

The problem with my work, though, is they are kind of assholes about sick days.  In order to take a sick day, you must have a documented excuse.  A sick note.  Like I’m in grade school or something.  I figured I would just take a personal day if I had to, but I’d really rather not, since I’m trying to save my days for pending vacations planned for later in the year.  But at 5:00 am, I was not worried about any of that.  I just wanted to crawl back into bed.

Later in the day, probably around 4:00, my hubs mentioned that if I wanted to get a note, I should probably try to get over to the local Urgent Care place soon, to avoid the rush that would most likely occur after work.  I thought that this was an excellent idea . . . so I promptly fell into a 3 hour coma of a nap.  So much for that documentation.

I wasn’t too concerned about it, though.  You see, once I woke up and still felt like hell, I devised a plan.  I realized that I was not going to be able to go to work the next day, either, so I just figured I’d go over to the Urgent Care place the next day and get a note that would be good for both days.  I hoped.

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So, after a very restless night of tossing and turning, and the occasional fevered delirium dream (do you guys get those when you’re sick?  SO freaky!), I got out of bed and called to make an appointment at Urgent Care.  Which meant I had to get showered and dressed and be functional enough to get out of the house.  I was set for a 2:00 appointment.  I was hopeful that since it was the middle of the day, I would be home by 4:00 and back in bed.  Oh boy, was I wrong about that!

So, I get there exactly at 2:00, check in, and am told they are running a little behind.  Ok, no problem.  I’ll just sit over here in the corner and die quietly, so as to not disturb the other patients.  After about 45 minute of waiting, I hear the front desk girls talking to each other about how bad it was on New Year’s Eve, and how the wait was upwards of 3 hours.  She was saying that people kept coming up to the desk yelling at her, and how she was all, “I’m just the desk girl!  I have nothing to do with what’s going on back there!”  Hmmmmm.

So, after almost an hour of waiting in the lobby (and not rushing the desk to complain to the front desk girl, I might add) I was finally called back into a room.  Where I perched myself atop a foam padded, thin paper covered bench and tucked in to wait.  Again.  Luckily, though, there was a little TV in the corner that was currently showing the end of one of the Ice Age movies.  So, there was a distraction at least.

About 15 minutes later, a nurse came in to take my blood pressure, which involved multiple attempts (apparently I’m a vampire) of cutting off all circulation to my arm.  She then told me they were going to do a flu test.  Well, isn’t that fancy.  I asked her if that involved taking blood (one of my most favoritest things EVER!), but she assured me that it was just a swab in the nostrils.  Then, she proceeded to shove a SAMURAI SWORD UP BOTH OF MY NOSTRILS.  When I was like, “um, OUCH,” she just calmly said, “oh yeah, we pretty much have to hit your brain for this test.”  Ha ha, very funny lady.  Not quite as funny when it’s your eyeballs getting pierced.

At this point, I have already been at this place for well over an hour, so I ask her how long until the test is ready.  She tells me that she really can’t give me a time, but that the test itself takes 15 minutes.  She then left, assuring me that the doctor would be in to see me “soon.”

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At some point during this interminable wait, a manager guy came in to apologize to me for the wait.  He went on to explain that they were so behind because they only had 1 doctor working that day, and that there were still 2-3 people in front of me.  Oh great.  Well, at least you’re sorry.

Finally, finally, an actual doctor came in the room.  Two hours and 45 minutes later, after watching the entirety of Ice Age: The Meltdown, I was finally seeing a medical professional.  (This, after another person came in to apologize again and tell me I was next in line).  The doc proceeded to tell me that the flu test came back positive and that I had Influenza A.  Then, she wrote me a prescription for some Tamiflu.  And asked if I wanted some cough meds as well.  Well, since I have been playing a rousing game of Who Can Hack the Loudest with my neighboring patient in the room behind me for the last 2.5 hours, I’m gonna say a big HELLZ YEAH to that.  Bring on the codeine!

So, when I asked if they could actually fill the prescription, she assured me that they could.  I was relieved that after spending 3 hours there, I wouldn’t have to stop at yet another place before getting home.  But as I went to the front desk, once again getting an apology from the manager, I was told they were actually out of that Rx.  Of course they were.  Because . . . reasons.

They then faxed the prescription to the CVS, so I could pick it up on my way home.  But, not being a complete moron, I called on my way to make sure they had received the Rx, which they had.  Hooray!  It might actually be ready when I get there.  And I might make it home in time to feed my kids dinner.  Speaking of which, I also put in a call to the Pizza Hut across the street from the pharmacy, so I could grab dinner on the way home as well.  And then, because it was 5:30 on a Thursday night, I then got to sit in rush hour traffic.  Fun times.

I get to the pharmacy and wait in the drive-thru lane, which only took about 10 minutes to get up to the window.  Hell, it was the shortest wait all day.  And they have my Rx ready!  Score.  Oh wait . . . but they don’t have my prescription info.  And since my job recently changed, I am now under my hubs’ policy.  But of course, I don’t have a card.  Of course.  Wait!  Can they just pull up my hubs’ info in their system?  He gets stuff from there all the time!  Which they say they can, but it’s gonna take some time to pull it up in the system.  I say that I’ll go grab the pizza across the street and come right back.  The girl tells me I might want to come inside when I come back, in case there are any questions that the manager needs to ask me.  So  . . . pizza, check.  Back to CVS, park and go inside, check.  And then stand in line behind 6 other people.

And when I’m finally called up, I explain that I was there before and was just waiting to get my hubs’ info pulled up in the system.  Which is when she tells me that her manager was trying . . . and then the system went down.  So I would have to wait.  And they didn’t know for how long.

Kill me.  Kill me now.

That was pretty much the end of me.  I had steadfastly held out through the hours of hellish waiting and waiting and waiting.  But when I could finally see the finish line, when they had my meds right there, when I had pizza cooling in the car, and was then told that I had to wait even more, with no idea of how long it would be?  Yeah, I was done.  I started mewling like a little kitten.  And I might have been delirious at this point, but I think I might have actually said, “please, I have the flu, I need to be in bed.  Please.”  To which she responded by apologizing to me.

((FACEPALM))

After waiting again for another half an hour or so, the system was back up, I had my meds, and I was on my way home.  To which I arrived at 7:00.  Where I had departed at 1:30 earlier that day.  Five and a half hours out and about in the world, and out of my bed.  Cruel is what it was.  Cruel.

But now I’ve got my Tamiflu, my cough medicine with codeine, and my warm and comfy bed.  Now, if I could just get rid of this death flu, all would be right with my world.

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