BLOGGING!!!! Live from the doctor's office

Greetings from the second-most depressing place on Earth (behind only the ER). Haven't been feeling well the last three days so this morning I call the doctor. "Sorry, we're booked solid, the doctor just got back from vacation," says the receptionist, with the type of soothing voice one only gets from smoking several packs of cigarettes a day and/or gargling sandpaper since birth.

My wife, who is tight with the doctor, calls back and gets me an appointment. Can't decide if I'm happy or mad at her. Happy, because I'll be away for a few days so perhaps I can get some antibiotics just to be safe. Mad, because I may in fact be here for the next few days. I've been here since 1:50 and one person has gone in. When did going to the doctor become as much of a protracted ordeal as getting married? I blame the fucking Republicans.

When I got here, the receptionist gave me a 'tude when another person couldn't find me on the list of appointments. "He called and got himself added to the list," she croaked. "He's not on there." Then she walked away in a huff. That's nice. See you next Tuesday.

Then she went out to have a smoke. Hello, irony.

Goddamn this place is depressing. People coughing, limping and looking considerably less than well.

At least I snagged a wireless signal. And at least this is one place where I'm still young. Hell, my parents could be here and they'd be young. Fuck, Spnited could be here and he'd be young in comparision.

So to borrow a phrase from IJAG: Here I am. Entertain me. At least til my battery runs out.

 

Let us know if the doctor uses the whole fist.

 

At least you're not wicked, who's crammed on his side on the floor between a twin bed and the wall.

 

If you've got time, don't waste it on here.

Jerk off.

 

Thanks for making me laugh around all the sad sick people. (He probably will)

The guy next to me is fascinated by the Donald Trump article he's been reading since 1:55.

All My Children is on the TV. The last time I was here it was Full House. I'd rather watch Full House.

PS: IJAG, I was sleeping when you called. Sorry. Did you kill Wicked?

 

Zeke, no Twins game for you tonight!

Go to your room!

 

Look, over there by the plastic plant...isn't that Liza?

 

Are there no Highlights magazines from 1987 in your doctor's office? You could do hidden pictures.

Better yet you could get online and sign up for new magazines for the office in the name of Throaty McBlacklung behind the desk there.

 

Shit! i mean, er, fuck.

C'mon Mom. Liriano's pitching.

I won't make any more masturbation jokes. I'll completely rub them out of my vocabulary. Promise.

 

BYH: Haven't killed him yet, but another 20 minutes on the floor and he may be begging for the sweet sweet release of death.

 

Hahahha, no, that would make this passable. I love to read about Goofus and Gallant.

GOOFUS: Pushes old ladies into traffic.
GALLANT: Stands in front of tanks in Tianneman Square.

I bet Gallant was a coke addict.

Since this is a blog, I guess I should contribute a link.

Spnited's third wife just walked in. Average age just shot up several years.

 

Zeke, you have until the 6:30 p.m. pregame show.

If you haven't cleaned it up by then, I don't care if Liriano is starting and Santana come in to close.

No Twins game tonight!