Michelle's Madness

I'm at work on this lovely Sunday, just killing time until I get to go home. Stupid me volunteered to work overtime, and now I'm stuck working 6 days in a row. So I get it in my head that I want McDonald's for lunch, dammit, since it's easy and close, and what I really wanted was a sausage mcmuffin with egg. I was totally jonesing for one, along with a caramel iced coffee. So I went to McD's on my first break, since by my lunchtime they wouldn't be serving breakfast anymore. Oh my god it tasted so good! The mcmuffin was divine and the iced coffee was just what I needed to help perk me up. Well, after eating healthier for weeks, my body simply isn't used to eating such grease-laden treats. Now my head is spinning and I feel kind of nauseous. So fuck you McDonalds, for tasting so yummy but then wreaking havoc on my poor body. Now I remember why I avoid fast food in the first place.

There is simply too much going on with life right now. First of all, we found out that the owner of our house is selling it (got a nice big “for sale” sign in our lawn to prove it) and we have to move around the beginning of September. Fuck. I don’t want to move. Do you know how much crap we have that we now need to pack? Not to mention making the house look presentable, and not embarrassingly cluttered, whenever someone wants to do a walk through. And praying nobody steals our shit while on said walk through. On the plus side, the house we are moving to is close by and is bigger, supposedly nicer and has a custom kitchen. Why only supposedly nicer? Because we can’t see the inside until the end of August, when the current tenants move out. So we have no idea what the inside looks like or what the layout is. That is driving me nuts because we can’t plan out in our heads where our stuff is going to fit. I mean, how big are the bedrooms? How big are the living and family rooms? Plus we have no idea how much storage space, closet space, or cabinet and counter space there is. I did have a dream last night that we snuck into the house to check out the layout while the current tenants were gone. I wasn’t impressed. I’m sure the layout looks nothing like in my dream though. It was a pretty strange layout. At least the new house will be the same rent. It would be nice though if the property manager paid for our moving truck, since this isn’t exactly a move we’ve planned or saved for, but that will never happen.

Right around the same time as the move, soccer starts for Jacob. Of course I have no idea when his games or practices are, let alone where they are. I won’t find that out until the end of August (see a theme here?). Plus I’m supposed to start school at, you guessed it, the end of August, but the thought of doing it now makes me want to hyperventilate. There’s just too much going on.

To make matters worse, work wants me to start the 4:50 shift on Monday. That’s 4:50 AM for those of you not in the know. Yes, as in oh-dark-fifty. Fuckadoodledoo. As if I’m not already a walking zombie from doing the 5:50 shift.

On top of all that, pretty much all of our weekends in August are booked with some activity or another. Brian is going to be taking some days off the week before we move to do a lot of the packing, but I don’t want to leave it all up to him. It’s too early to pack right now, but I feel anxious because I’m not doing anything. I guess I can start packing up stuff we really don’t need out, like yearbooks. Though I’d rather just burn those and dispose of the ashes. That will be one less thing to move and I fucking hate them anyway. I suppose I can start weeding out stuff that we don’t want anymore, but I don’t think I’m organized enough or have the energy to do a yard sale. Being at work makes me feel all stressed because I have tons of things to do at home but can’t do them. Then when I’m at home I want to avoid all the stuff I need to do. And the cycle continues. Also, the quantity of coffee consumed this morning probably has something to do with my antsy feeling.

Calgon, take me away! I know that's so cliche. Maybe it should be "Ativan, take me away!" or "Rum and coke, take me away!". How about "Big fucking rubber mallet, take me away!"? Yeah, that sounds good.

I've had some serious writer's block. I can't think of anything good to blog about. I just don't want to rant constantly; I'd like to have nice things to say, but either way I just can't think of anything worth more than a few sentences or so. Sigh.

Maybe it's my new meds. I think they have definitely put me in a different frame of mind and I don't always feel up to stretching out my thoughts into something interesting. So forgive me, my very few readers. I shall return with something interesting to say, I promise.

Is it just me, or are people wussies? Why is it that the bitchiest and/or least approachable people are the ones who complain about someone else when they feel like that other person is rude or standoffish? And why am I usually that someone else? Seriously, I’m not completely unapproachable. But if you come over to get a status check on a project I’m completely engrossed in, be prepared for the straight, blunt answer. You want to know where I’m at, here ya go. What more do you want? Do I really need to sugarcoat things and make it all smell like roses so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of the hypocrites? Newsflash: I don’t do sugarcoated. Sorry, if you want that, go see someone who is completely into being PC so they don’t offend anyone. Or a politician. If you want to know where I am in the project, ask and I’ll tell you. I really don’t see what the issue is. Now bugger off!

Monday, back at work
Oh where did the weekend go?
Banging head on desk

How in the world can people enjoy being spun? Seriously. My stupid medications (legal prescription ones, in case you are wondering) are making me feel all spun and woohoo and shit and it sucks. I feel all weird and restless and crawly. Blah! I can’t think straight and just existing is difficult. And I’m not freakin’ productive at all. So there’s no way I’m going to get a block of wood and whittle it down to a baseball bat or organize a collection of dust bunnies or try to build an ark out of Legos. And I won’t be deciding anytime soon that my washing machine looks better on the front lawn, or that my house should have cat ears on the roof.

1. Kids' toys that make noise yet have no off button, or even a volume button. Or the toys that have an off and a volume button, but the default volume when you turn it on is the loudest it can go. Mom smash.



2. When people say "ridonculous". Stop saying that. Seriously. You sound like a douche.

3. Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt. When the fuck are they going to die??? And what are these no talent media whores even famous for? I've never actually seen their show because my brain would melt from the stupidity, but they are in every damn magazine. They create opportunities for the paparazzi to "accidentally" find them and then totally ham it up for the cameras like it's a big surprise to see them. They probably have all the various paparazzo on speed dial. Plus, Spencer just looks pervy and creepy; just looking at him makes me want to go scrub with boiling water.



You may be wondering where her other horn is. Well, I'll tell you where it is. I'm imagining that it's now buried deep in his scalp because when he eagerly jumped to pose for yet another picture, he hit his head up against hers really hard without aiming properly. Ah, happy thoughts.

4. When spelling something, why in the world do people feel the need to say "H as in Harry (or Henry)"? What other fucking letter sounds like H, requiring them to clarify what letter they mean? Do they think I'm going to misunderstand and think they are spelling a word that has an 8 in the middle of it? Like "bone8ead" or "dips8it"? This also applies to the letters A, J, L, O, Q, R, U, W and X.

5. Jeans that come already "distressed" or ripped. And I can't believe people spend hundreds of dollars on them. I could spend 20 bucks on a pair of jeans and shred them myself and save tons of money. And my son shreds his without even trying! Why in the world would I buy him jeans that are already "distressed"? Those will rip in about 10 seconds flat. He needs strong jeans. Whoever designs these jeans for boys never had boys. And whoever designs them for women are just fucking morons.



Okay, show's over, move it along, nothing to see here. Until next time...

FUCK!

I HATE when I’m talking on the phone with someone and they are chewing their food or gum and smacking their lips. I don’t want to hear your lip smacking eating noises, you cud-chewing cow! At least close your mouth or take the phone away from your mouth until you’ve swallowed whatever it is you’re gnawing on.

Common courtesy, decency, and manners: completely out the window...

Whenever I think I’ve heard every kind of crazy there is, someone surprises me. You would think I wouldn’t be shocked anymore, but damn it if my jaw just doesn’t drop some days. Of course next month I’ll hear something that trumps this, but for now… well, all I can say is WOW. And when I say 'WOW' what I mean is that I am weeping for our childrens' future. Because the idiots are only multiplying.

So here I am at work, minding my own business, answering calls as they come in, and just doing my best to deal with the crazies. (I swear I’m in the crazy queue today, because I’m getting more yahoos than usual). I get this call from a pharmacy wanting help with processing a claim for one of our members. Okay, nothing unusual about that. So apparently this member has another insurance as his primary, at least according to Medicare. The guy from the pharmacy says the member no longer has the other insurance. I told him that we would need documentation faxed to us that shows the other coverage is terminated. He asked who we needed it from, and if he could just write something on a piece of paper and fax it. Um, noooooo…. That is not considered proof: "evidence sufficient to establish a thing as true, or to produce belief in its truth". If I could simply write something on a piece of paper and that made it true, I would be the Queen of the World with unlimited funds. Because of course, I could just write my “bank balance” on a piece of paper and that would make it so. I’m sure the bank teller would just hand me the key to the vault and tell me to help myself. That would be sweet…

But that isn’t even the crazy part. I told him that we need something like a letter from Medicare or the other insurance company showing that the coverage is no longer active. Then he said…

Are you ready?

I’m not making this up.

Seriously, this is verbatim.

“You need to lower your expectations of this patient because he doesn’t speak English!”

I'm sorry mister, I must have hallucinated because you couldn't have possibly said what I think you did.

Oh shit, he did say that.

I’ll repeat that in case your head just exploded due to the sheer stupidity of the statement: “You need to lower your expectations of this patient because he doesn’t speak English!”

Oh, how Carlos Mencia would love to see his point proven once again. People can’t keep up so we lower the standards.

To top this off, the member’s son, WHO SPEAKS ENGLISH, was standing right there at the pharmacy. The caller from the pharmacy (I’m sorry, but I refuse to call him a technician or a pharmacist; I just can’t give him that kind of credit) told him what we needed, and I heard him say it in English. Okay, so if we have to lower the expectations for his dad because he can’t speak English, what’s this guy’s excuse? Do we lower the standards for him because he’s a fucktard? And why do I have to lower my expectations because he’s a flaming imbecile? If he can't handle something as simple as "get a letter from the company that says the coverage has ended", then maybe he shouldn’t be taking care of his father’s affairs. Or wandering the streets unattended. Or be allowed to continue the bloodline.

Of course, it’s not his fault he’s stupid. Society hasn’t pushed him to excel, and why should he try to excel on his own when society will coddle him and lower the standards even more to meet his less-than-mediocre intelligence? We wouldn't want his self-esteem to suffer, right? We don't want to be mean by actually expecting people to think and shit.

Now everybody sing along with the "Dee Dee Dee Song", while I bang my head on my desk for a while...

Trudging through the store
Kids bouncing around like they're
pinballs on steroids

I've been doing a pretty darn good job at staying calm and even humorous while at work, which definitely makes the day better and go by a bit more quickly. But today everyone can suck it. I've already taken way too damn many phone calls, and let me tell you, there are many villages missing their idiots today. My last caller didn't know the member's ID number, so I looked it up and said I would give it to her (so she could put it on the form I'm sending her). She said, "Her ID number as it pertains to what?" Um, it's her IDENTIFICATION number. It's how you IDENTIFY the member. How is this hard? And I can't tell you how many people call us for an authorization request, and I inform them that it's done by fax and offer to send the form and they actually say to me, "So what do I do, just fill it out and fax it back to you?". No, I thought maybe you could take it to dinner and a movie first, or just wipe your ass with it. Of course you're going to fill it out and send it back. THAT'S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT!

I just have to survive 2 more hours without strangling someone or setting them on fire. I really wish I could send the little army guys I have on my computer monitor out and about to help clean up the gene pool a bit.

I am extremely tired today. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I’m feeling a bit cranky. Here are some things that are pissing me off.

I don’t get how somebody can work in a pharmacy, surrounded by medications, doing nothing but working with medications, all day every day, and not be able to pronounce or spell even the simplest of medication names. I understand that medication names can be very tricky, and I don’t always get them all right, but if you work in a pharmacy, you should at least be familiar enough with how medications are pronounced and spelled, and familiar enough with the medications themselves, to understand what medication name I’m telling you and be able to at least take a stab at spelling it.

One day last year, I took the boys to a place in a neighboring city called “Someplace Fun”, which is a big indoor play place with the big blow up bouncy slides, and a carousel, and little go carts and video games. When we went last time, Logan was still a little too small to really do everything. Well Brian is working this weekend, so I decided I wanted to take them there again, now that Logan is better able to keep up with the big boys. So I looked up the number in the phone book so that I could call to get hours and prices, and the number is disconnected. I looked up the place online and it doesn’t seem to exist anymore. And even worse, I found a similar place about 20 minutes away that would also be perfect and it’s only open during the week. They only have private parties on the weekends. How in the world can you have a play place that’s not open on weekends? Some of us do have to actually WORK during the week, you know.

I’m mad at caffeine for not working. Seriously, I could drink a cup of coffee, or a coke, or a cappuccino with extra caffeine and it does nothing to wake me up. Nothing. Suck it, caffeine!

I HATE grain moths (aka meal moths). For those of you who have been lucky enough not to experience these most wondrous of god’s creatures, let me give you the scoop. These things love grains. Where in the house does one keep grains? Oh yeah, in the kitchen. They burrow their way into even the tiniest crack in a food package, lay eggs everywhere, which then hatch into larvae (little white wiggly worm thingies) which then leave little white fuzzy cocoons everywhere, and then you have these moths fluttering around your kitchen and lurking in your cabinets and drawers. And, despite what the name implies, they don’t like just grains, though grains are their favorite. No, they also seem to like raisins, so if you have any boxes of raisins anywhere that aren’t in a Ziploc bag, they will infiltrate said boxes. The eggs are little brown speckles, so in a box of raisins, you can’t see them very well. :::Insert puking here::: And speaking of Ziploc bags, I have found the cocoons inside the tops of sealed Ziploc bags. So they didn’t quite get to the food, but they are now blocking the exit hole for the food. Nasty. I’ve found them in my salt, in my brown sugar, in my rice. And good luck getting rid of them. You have to pull all the food out of the cabinets/drawers, chuck whatever isn’t sealed, thoroughly clean the cabinets/drawers, and start buying containers to keep your food in, which isn’t cheap. The cost of all of those containers really adds up, not to mention the food that had to be thrown out. So guess what I have to do this weekend? Yup, you guessed it: I have to pull all the food out of at least one of my cabinets, toss a bunch of stuff, and clean the inside of the cabinet. Since the drawer above this cabinet is also affected (the drawer has the boys’ snacks in it), I will probably have to pull the drawer out completely to clean the bottom of it. I’ve already cleaned the inside of it, twice, and tossed the food that was affected, but they are still lurking in that drawer, though everything is now sealed. Fortunately, most things I have in the cabinet are also sealed, like all of my baking stuff, but there are some things that are not, like chips. Needless to say, I do not look forward to this chore.

People on the phones are generally annoying me today, either interrupting me constantly and talking over me, or simply not listening to anything I say. I told you we handle ALL of these requests by fax, so don't ask me "You don't do it by phone?" or tell me "No thanks, I'd rather do it now on the phone". I did not give you an option, so take it or leave it and get off my line.



Okay, this day has already been too long. This is the kind of day where I have a strong desire to run away, go home, curl up on the couch in my sweats with a blanket and a movie and a vat of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream, and forget that the rest of the world even exists.