Daily Archives: November 5, 2008

getting stabby

Posted in angst by

Oh my god you guys, I have the BEST idea:

When people go to a restaurant and order a salad, clearly what they REALLY want is some fried chicken! We should totally put deep fried chickens on our salads! I mean, who would totally order a salad in an attempt to not eat grease for lunch? We have an OBLIGATION to our customers to make sure they’re eating as greasy as possible! A salad just isn’t a salad until someone tops it off with a mandatory hunk of questionable fried meat, after all. It certainly isn’t like there’s an epidemic of fat in our country that we’re supposedly aware of and are helping sort out by giving people healthier choices, or anything. It’s also not like we praise ourselves and fool others into thinking they’re eating something GOOD for them just because it’s green underneath, right? Fried chickens for EVERYONE! Go go getting greasy!

I hadn’t realized that Wendy’s changed their salads to include a mandatory piece of fried chicken, and I am not impressed. Let’s just forget for a second exactly how much I loathe warm lettuce, and concentrate on the ridiculousness of the whole affair – I ordered a salad for lunch because I specifically didn’t want a deep fried chicken sandwich. What on EARTH makes them think that perhaps I really do want that slab of meat; I just don’t know it yet? The chicken salads USED to have cold grilled chicken in with all the salady goodness, and they were awesome. This new atrocity is completely disgusting, tastes horrible, and goddamnit I wanted a salad for lunch, not a fucking grease bomb on a bed of wilted lettuce.

Fuckers.

I *hate* warm lettuce.

choosing my own adventure

Posted in medical anomaly by

Calling the doctor’s office yesterday did little to stop the growth of either my cyst or my anxiety, both of which have grown to alarming sizes. She can’t fit me in until next Wednesday, by which time I am quite certain the damn thing will have ruptured – it’s very painful and scary and nothing about the word “rupture” makes me feel any good at all. The only advice I was given was to “go to the hospital if things get any worse”, which doesn’t really help me because I have a difficult time talking myself into going to the emergency room for anything less than a severed limb.

Unfortunately, I’m almost at that point. I’m pretty freaked out by the size and soreness of cyst 7.0, and I’m feeling queasy and horrible which is undoubtedly caused by the deadly toxins swimming through my bloodstream courtesy of my vagina. I’ve all but made up my mind to go to the hospital, even if typing it out is making me change my mind.

There’s a catch, though.

I have to go to Richmond again. Not just for a run of the mill warehouse visit, mind you – I’m giving the Lab’s executives a tour of the operations I’ve set up. We hired a new VP who is essentially my boss, and we’re going to take a look at what I’ve spent the last several months of my life doing. No pressure or anything, but it’s a friggin’ Executive Field Trip of which I am the unwilling star.

So, I can’t go to the hospital or even a walk-in clinic should I chicken out of the actual ER because I have to go to a warehouse and show my boss and his boss and probably THEIR boss what I’ve told people to do all day. Skipping one is potentially dangerous. Skipping the other may cost me my job.

This sucks and I hurt.