So it happened to be that today was the day for my annual visit to the Ob/Gyn. It also happened to be my first time to see this Ob/Gyn (my previous doctor since retired). All of the doctors in this office spared no expense in the decorating of the waiting room. The chairs, tables, and carpet all had a seemingly "retro" vibe flowing all around. Lots of Orange and seafoam green adorned the room. The art work hanging up seemed to mesh very well too. If I had just one gripe about the waiting room, it would be this: Not everyone who walks in is pregnant or has a desire to be pregnant. So, investing in some worthwhile reading material might be nice. Oh, say...People Magazine, Better Homes and Gardens, Southern Living, InStyle...I don't care to read Baby Monthly or Pregnancy Weekly. Which by the way...are all saying the same thing. All of them have lengthy articles on the benefits of natural childbirth, breastfeeding, and the use of cloth diapers. All of the babies have that same look on their face. All of the mothers could NEVER possibly look that great right after giving birth. And who the hell can afford to eat the fresh, organic foods that they so desperately are tying to get pregnant women to eat. Not to mention, the yoga classes that they (whoever "they" are) believe all pregnant women should take.
My appointment was scheduled for 9:15, so I dutifully arrive at 9:00. I filled out paperwork. Filled out more. Signed my life away, handed over my social security checks, pawned off my rings...just kidding. But, it was a lot of paperwork. This ended at 9:30. I get called back at 9:45. I pee in a cup, get my finger pricked, and wait. During the wait, the fire alarm goes off...apparently this was not an actual fire, but testing was being conducted on the alarm. This made me jump out of my seat as the alarm itself was right over my head. I am escorted into another waiting area. This is called the Sub-waiting area. WTF? I wait some more. Except this time, I have a tabloid magazine to keep my occupied :) Sure as I get into an article on the ever growing Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt family, I get called into the room...where I wait...again...This time with a Redbook Magazine.
11:00, I am out the door. I hate doctors. I hate when doctors schedule wayyyyy too many appointments. I hate parking in a parking garage. I hate when I see a car take up two parking spaces because the douche bag can't park. I hate when the big white Chevy Suburban parks in a spot that really should have been meant for a small car, say..like MINE. I hate that I am having to suck my gut in to get in my car because the stupid white Chevy Suburban has invaded my comfort zone with their inept parking skills. And I further hate trying to get out of the parking garage. The ass driving in front of me is driving down the middle of the road, it's a two way road. Hope no one comes around the curve and hits your ass head on. I hate people.
I get back to work, all nice and hungry. Armed with my purse and a Redbook? Yeah, somehow I walked right out of the doctor with that in my hand. HA! Oh well...I guess someone else will have to read Baby Monthly, because baby...I don't give a rat's ass about your baby.
Today at CVS, another source of perpetual aggravation, I was minding my own business. I went to obtain a couple of items for a resident and scanning the shelves to look for a particular brand of vitamins. This woman kept glancing over at me (she was about 2 feet from me). I looked up one time and she gave me the coldest look. The crinkle-your-nose-like-you're-better-than-me look. WTF? Did I smell bad? Did I walk funny? Was my hair out of place? Was I not dressed for the occasion? WHAT? TELL ME WHAT! I just smiled and walked away. Gaahhhhdddd, I hate people.
On a happy note, I have a three day weekend coming up. PEOPLE!
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