So first, this ear infection is still kicking my ass. I think it’s getting better, but maybe I’m just getting used to the intense pain and pressure.
Oh, get this. My prescription is 4 drops every 8 hours, which means wakeup, sleep, and in the middle of the day. So on Monday, I’m walking out to my car with the medicine. It’s in a glass vial. It slips, and I hear the distinctive clink of a glass vial striking the ground and breaking. It didn’t shatter into a gazillion pieces, it just broke, so I call the doctor to get a represcription, but the “health plan” doesn’t cover breakage or “loss.” I wonder if they’d cover it if I put shards of glass in my ear because the medicine is now mixed up with the shards. So I end up paying for a complete bottle anyway. Now we can’t eat for a week because I need my meds.
You can help purchase my meds!
So I didn’t come here today to tell you that. On Saturday, against my better judgment, we went to the Alameda County Fair. The good news is that the Advil guys were there handing out free samples. It was a hot day. Very hot. Hot enough for me to say “Thank God it’s Summer!” Unfortunately, it’s also the time that the people who shouldn’t go topless try to. Or they expose more than they should.
I have to tell you, girl. You ain’t all that, nor are you a bag of chips. What you’ve got out should be in far. Now, it’s one thing for a couple extra pounds to be sneaking out the bottom of your shirt, it’s another thing to be releasing a blob the size of a four-year old though your arm holes.
And guys, too! What is up with all the scanky 35-year old stoners riding around on the 20-inch bike that they’ve had since they were eight, with their shirts off? You know them. They ride around without a shirt, with their nasty boxers hanging out over their shorts, turning left from the car left-turn lane, whizzing through stop signs. Please, if I wanted to see a guy who shouldn’t be wearing a shirt not wearing a shirt, I’d take a shower with the lights on.
In the meantime, make sure that when you look in the mirror you’re seeing what other people see. I could go on about the ugly people who think they look good, but that’s for another time. Please, cover up. It’s called “FLAB,” not “FAB.” Then, when you get home, BLOW IT OUT YOUR PIE HOLE!
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