Next Stop: Psychotown

Everyone has that one person (or seven) who can’t actually confront somebody and tell them what’s bothering them.  They write a status on facebook without naming names.  You know what I’m talking about.  “Somebody better stop talking smack about me.  Next time they do, I’m gonna tell them how it is.”  Those kind of statuses.  The kind that have caught the crazy train to Psychotown.   And there are always people who agree.  STFU, Parents refers to them as a P.O.B., or Pack of Bitches.

Trust me, it is not an admirable thing to be a bitch.

Anyway, my older sister is one of these people.  She drives me crazy.  I like seeing her updates about the kids on facebook but she posts too much BS.

A good example.

Yellow is her husband.  Pink is one of the POB.  I’m not the family she is referring to.  But she posts this kind of crap all the time.  I always take a screen shot of it because people call her out on it all the time.  And once there are comments criticizing her, she quickly deletes the status.  I guess she posted something because somebody made insinuations that her husband smokes pot.  I didn’t get to see it because it was deleted shortly afterward.

And Pink is just an idiot.  I have worked in a pharmacy.  This is the time of the year that many insurance companies start a new year.  A lot of times, people don’t get entered in properly or at all.  She really shouldn’t call them dumbasses.  Unfortunately, the poor pharmacy employees get the brunt of it when it is the insurance companies’ fault.

The point of my story is that I got sick of my sister’s crap.  So I decided to question it on a post she made a little bit later.

Yeah, I was a big old b word.

She deserved it.  I was promptly blocked by her.  Not that I care.  Someone told me that she deleted all of the comments off the post.  I am so tempted to post these pictures on facebook just so they are there for posterity.

Once my sister blocks someone, she uses her husband’s or kid’s facebook to stalk the blockee to see if anything is posted about her.  I never make any mention of it because I know that is what she is waiting for.  After a week of not seeing anything, she’ll unblock that person.  She’s done it to me multiple times for minor grievances here and there.

It just bothers me.  I can’t stand people who don’t confront their issues and problems head-on.  My mom does it too.  When something about one of us kids bothers her, she runs her mouth to every other kid.

Also, do I regret referring to her as bat shit crazy?  A little.  She may or may not be but her behavior is.  I hope she realizes that it doesn’t matter what you put online, it is permanent even if you delete it.

I honestly wish my sister was happier.  She has a crappy marriage.  She can’t seem to find stability in her work life.  Honestly, she reminds me of my mother-in-law.  I wish she would just stop stressing so much about other people’s actions.  Honestly, does it matter in the long run?

I’m trying to use this as a lesson that I need to remember to breathe before I offer criticism.  If I need to offer criticism, I have to remember to offer it constructively.



E.R., Walmart and Some Really Great Drawings

This morning I made a trip up to the ER because our doctor office was completely booked.

I posted yesterday about my mishap with my back.

My little sister, Daisy, brought me up to the local ER. She was more concerned with how pretty the nurse was than how much pain I was in. She called me a big baby. Of course, my sister is nineteen and has never really experienced intense pain like this.

I swear the doctor was younger than me. I don’t think 31 is old but it made me feel that way when I had Doogie Howser treating me. He came in, felt my back, asked where my pain was on a scale of 1-10 (it was an 8) and said he’d send the nurse in with some meds.

On a side note, how do you know where your pain is on a numerical scale if you’ve never experienced a ten?

That was me in my room. Don’t I look sexy with my gigantic boobs and belly and stick arms and legs. The pictures are out of focus because I forgot to set my camera up to shoot inside the hospital.

So I did sudoku and Daisy played on my iPad until the nurse came back with some meds. I took some prednisone by mouth and then she had to give me two shots in the behind, one for pain and one to relax my muscles. I asked Daisy to take a picture but she wouldn’t. The nurse was awesome and I didn’t even feel the injections until she pushed the meds in. My bottom is still sore though. She then left and said she would be back in twenty minutes to check to see if they were working.

Daisy drew a picture for me.


Here’s her interpretation of the shots.


Don’t you love that she added my boob sticking out under my arm? This is what she said my butt would look like afterwards. I wish.


She then added some vulgar graffiti. What else would you expect from a bored nineteen year old?


I don’t know what a wenier is, but it’s nice to know I love it.

Anyways, the nurse checked back in and I was still in pain with a little sleepiness added in. Another half-hour later, Doogie came back and asked how I was doing. I told him I was still in extreme pain.

He then asked me what I thought we should do next? If I wasn’t feeling so dopey and drug-addled, I would have said “You’re the doctor; you tell me”. He asked me if I wanted to go home and rest. Duh, who wants to sit around in a hospital all day? He then asked me about what kind of drug I wanted for pain. I told him I get rebound migraines from Vicodin and when he asked about Tramadol, I said it wasn’t very effective for pain. So he asked me if I wanted Percocet, oxycodone or a fentanyl patch. Um…you went to med school to tell me what to take. I chose the Percocet. So he wrote me a scrip for prednisone and Percocet and instructions to follow up with my family doc on Monday or Tuesday. Then he sent me on my merry way.

So, because I had to pick up a few things from Walmart for the Packer game on Sunday, I figured I would fill my scrips there. Now, I can barely walk so I opted for the motorized scooter. Sexy, huh? The greeter said the carts were outside and being brought in but he would have the first one go to me. Well, the guy bringing the cart pulled it up and some old lady, who saw me hobbling toward it, hopped on it and scootered away. Luckily, the next one was just a few minutes away.

Yep, that’s me in the beer aisle, wearing pajamas and riding a scooter. Pretty classy!

So anyway, the cranky lady in the pharmacy who said it would take 45 minutes (no speeding it up, they don’t give special treatment to anyone, even if they are in pain, she really said that to me) finally let me have my meds. We went home and I passed out from Percocet.

That was my day. How was yours?

Have a happy Friday.