Just Another Day

I swear, I don't know what to do with myself some days. Yesterday I wound up in the ER from 10:30pm to 7am. Yes, AM. They were thinking that I had appendicitis, but I kept vomiting from the pain relievers they had IV'd into my system, so they couldn't give me the contrast liquid you are supposed to drink so that your body lights up on the inside like a Christmas tree. Granted, a rather twisted Christmas tree, but you get the picture. So the very cute young guy who is to do my CT scan wheels me on my gurney (so dignified, with vomit on my gown, my hair in an unwashed, disheveled bun) and chats nicely with me the entire time. I'm feeling good about myself as I make a couple of jokes and he laughs appreciatively, because I know medical personnel enjoy people with personalities. As he wheels me back into my little ER bay, he says, "OK dear, I'm done with you." Uh, what? Did this guy just call me "DEAR?" As in the thing you call old, doddering wo

Oh hello. It's me. And I recently did the walk of shame at Target. You see, I was making an oh-so-important purchase of badly needed things like toothpaste, socks, hair gel and the like. Oh, and elastic bands for my hair. I manage to start out with twenty and within a month I'm down to two. I've resigned myself to this reality. Anyhoo, so I swipe my card and the Target checkout lady panics. "Uh, it's not going through." Shit. So I swipe it again. "Uhhh, this is coming up as a referral, the transaction won't complete." Double shit and WTF? My credit score is enviable, and I KNOW I am current on the payment. So the Target lady is looking at me in dismay, and I can FEEL even though I can't really SEE the lady behind me giving me a look of pity mixed with disdain like I am someone who doesn't pay my bills but blithely goes to Target and charges up a storm ANYWAY and exactly how long did I think I could get away with it. Damn, she was