We're getting to the end of the year again. People are making plans for the holidays, gifts are frantically being bought, people get snowed in, every single couple I know is breaking up, in the Netherlands some old guy with a beard and a bunch of black guys are handing out presents, and all my favorite shops are selling calendars with undressed men and women again.
Before I continue; If you used to read my old blog, you may remember this is an old pet hate of mine. However, I've decided in this post not to refer to before said calendars with the "p word" (no, not pantomime, moron) because people are still entering my old blog, google-ing "p. calendars". Now, my old blog was a slut and she doesn't complain, but this one has some dignity and therefore we shall not mention the p word here (no, not post-traumatic-stress-syndrome, idiot).
Anyhoo. I completely, utterly and totally do not get the point of undressed-people-calendars. It's not like I have a moral problem with them, far from it. It's just that I really do not get them. I shall explain.
The entire point of graphical representations of a person, or several persons, in an undressed state or in certain positions that otherwise would only occur behind closed doors (unless you have a really good sex life, in that case kudos!), is to give the person, or persons, watching it a sexual high. So far, no problem.
The entire point of a calendar is to give a person, or several persons, a sense of time. It is also a tool for these people to plan their lives, remember birthdays and other important occasions such as Christmas and scheduled court dates. These calendars often have pictures of places or persons to liven them up. For instance, Tuscan landscapes, bluessingers or Orlando Bloom. Again, so far no problem.
But why in earths name are they combining the two?? There's no logic! First of all; can you hang one of those calenders up and still not be an official pervert? Material of that kind (I'm getting good at not using the p word.... no, not panepedemic, weirdo) is perfectly normal, but you keep it in the bottom two shelves of your closet. You don't hang it up on the wall somewhere! It's insane!
Second. What's the theory behind it? That you look at one picture for an entire month? As my Spanish homeboys would say; PORQUE? It's one freaking picture, don't you get tired of looking at the same person in the same, most likely quite uncomfortable, position all month? Are you expected to bond with him (or if you're a sick twisted person with a disgusting lifestyle... her)? It's a picture, it doesn't talk back!
Conclusion? If you want to give someone a calendar for Christmas, pick one that has Italy or France or Orlando Bloom on it. If you want to give someone material of a certain graphic kind that George Bush doesn't agree with, buy them a magazine or a dvd. Do not combine the two.
Unless it's Orlando Bloom undressed, than you can ignore everything said above.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Uh-oh
Ayaan Hirsi Ali will be making a new movie soon.
If you are not Dutch, you may not know who the hell Ayaan Hirsi Ali is. And, trust me you'd be very fortunate in that. You may also not know what's so bad (and trust me, it is) about her making movies. Fear not, I shall explain.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali is a Dutch MP for the Conservative Free Market Party Of Complete Idiots (but for some reason they call themselves the VVD) and she is originally from Somalia. She is also a former Muslim who got abused by the men in her surroundings. But then she came to the Netherlands and eventually became an influential member of parliament.
Happy end?
Not quite. As a member of parliament she spends most of her time defending Muslim women who get abused by their husbands or fathers. This, obviously, is a very noble issue to spend time on, and I believe even most Muslim men and women would agree with me on that. The problem lies in the way she does that. Basically, her campaign exists of her being an idiot. For instance, one of her ways of making bad Muslim men stop beating up their wifes is calling uber-Muslim Mohammed a pedophile.
Yeah. Whether or not he actually was one is an interesting question, but somehow I have a feeling that saying it isn't going to make a lot of muslim women feel safer. So, she's an idiot. She is also an idiot that gets a lot of death threats though, and that's what makes her a difficult person for people like me; on the one hand we dislike her because she's an idiot (I think 'idiot' is going to be the theme word of this post.... continue). However, on the other hand, we do feel she has the right to ventilate her idiotness by saying idiotic things without being threatened or killed by even bigger idiots (see, told you so).
Last summer the Hirsi Ali - Muslim men row reached its high point when she released a movie called Submission. In it, a young Muslim woman in a see-through Burqa (honest to god, not making this up) talked about being abused by her husband, while images were being shown of other scarred Muslim women with parts of the Quran painted on their bodies.
This in itself bores me more than it shocks me (naked women... again. Next!), but apparently to Muslims (which I accidentely am not, I know, shocking) it was a big deal. Baiscally all Muslims, including, ironically enough, Muslim women that had previously been abused by their husbands, hated the thing. Some hated it more than others. And one of them killed the director of the movie (Theo van Gogh) last year on the streets of Amsterdam in broad daylight.
Now, ms. Hirsi Ali is going to make another movie. It's going to be called Submission 2 (it's a sequal you see, much like Beethovens 2nd was a sequal to Beethoven) but this time it's going to be about.... the Islam and gay men.
Gulp.
Now, again. This is a very important issue, and attention should be given to it (in the past few weeks, for instance, several men have been executed in Iran just for being gay). But I'm not so sure anything good's going to come out of her paying attention to it. For some reason, I can't get the image of a Usama Bin Laden sitting in a cave thinking "Oh, yes! We forgot about the gays! Lets bash them!" out of my head.
So, in the open letter category;
Dear Ayaan Hirsi Ali,
I have no idea if I'm speaking for my entire people, but as for me; could you not do your new flick about gay issues? I know, I know, we're fun to work with, and we have the latest gossip, but unlike with you, the Dutch government isn't going to pay for my bodyguards.
Here's my suggestion; what about a movie about how some Muslims are mean to pets. Hmmm? Sounds good? You could have sheep in there with Quran things painted on them! Or cats! No, wait, I have a cat. What about birds? Or mice? Nobody likes mice! Would be fine if Islamoidiots would blow them up. Try that!
boris
If you are not Dutch, you may not know who the hell Ayaan Hirsi Ali is. And, trust me you'd be very fortunate in that. You may also not know what's so bad (and trust me, it is) about her making movies. Fear not, I shall explain.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali is a Dutch MP for the Conservative Free Market Party Of Complete Idiots (but for some reason they call themselves the VVD) and she is originally from Somalia. She is also a former Muslim who got abused by the men in her surroundings. But then she came to the Netherlands and eventually became an influential member of parliament.
Happy end?
Not quite. As a member of parliament she spends most of her time defending Muslim women who get abused by their husbands or fathers. This, obviously, is a very noble issue to spend time on, and I believe even most Muslim men and women would agree with me on that. The problem lies in the way she does that. Basically, her campaign exists of her being an idiot. For instance, one of her ways of making bad Muslim men stop beating up their wifes is calling uber-Muslim Mohammed a pedophile.
Yeah. Whether or not he actually was one is an interesting question, but somehow I have a feeling that saying it isn't going to make a lot of muslim women feel safer. So, she's an idiot. She is also an idiot that gets a lot of death threats though, and that's what makes her a difficult person for people like me; on the one hand we dislike her because she's an idiot (I think 'idiot' is going to be the theme word of this post.... continue). However, on the other hand, we do feel she has the right to ventilate her idiotness by saying idiotic things without being threatened or killed by even bigger idiots (see, told you so).
Last summer the Hirsi Ali - Muslim men row reached its high point when she released a movie called Submission. In it, a young Muslim woman in a see-through Burqa (honest to god, not making this up) talked about being abused by her husband, while images were being shown of other scarred Muslim women with parts of the Quran painted on their bodies.
This in itself bores me more than it shocks me (naked women... again. Next!), but apparently to Muslims (which I accidentely am not, I know, shocking) it was a big deal. Baiscally all Muslims, including, ironically enough, Muslim women that had previously been abused by their husbands, hated the thing. Some hated it more than others. And one of them killed the director of the movie (Theo van Gogh) last year on the streets of Amsterdam in broad daylight.
Now, ms. Hirsi Ali is going to make another movie. It's going to be called Submission 2 (it's a sequal you see, much like Beethovens 2nd was a sequal to Beethoven) but this time it's going to be about.... the Islam and gay men.
Gulp.
Now, again. This is a very important issue, and attention should be given to it (in the past few weeks, for instance, several men have been executed in Iran just for being gay). But I'm not so sure anything good's going to come out of her paying attention to it. For some reason, I can't get the image of a Usama Bin Laden sitting in a cave thinking "Oh, yes! We forgot about the gays! Lets bash them!" out of my head.
So, in the open letter category;
Dear Ayaan Hirsi Ali,
I have no idea if I'm speaking for my entire people, but as for me; could you not do your new flick about gay issues? I know, I know, we're fun to work with, and we have the latest gossip, but unlike with you, the Dutch government isn't going to pay for my bodyguards.
Here's my suggestion; what about a movie about how some Muslims are mean to pets. Hmmm? Sounds good? You could have sheep in there with Quran things painted on them! Or cats! No, wait, I have a cat. What about birds? Or mice? Nobody likes mice! Would be fine if Islamoidiots would blow them up. Try that!
boris
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
music in me
Once a year I torture myself. Ok, I probably torture myself on many ways throughout the year, but considering this particular issue it's only once a year. I don't know why I do it every year, but there's something that somehow forces me to do it again, and again, and again.
You guessed it, it is time to vote for the Top 2000 again.
For those not in the know; the Top 2000 is a yearly thing a Dutch radiostation does to me. The idea is the following; from boxing day to New Years eve this radiostation plays the favourite 2000 songs of the people who voted. You vote by picking your 10 favorite songs from a list they provide.
So far so good. Only problem?
How am I supposed to pick 10 songs out of over 2500 options? There's 5 Zucchero songs alone on the list! 16 Springsteen songs! One Ryan Adams song! 13 Creedence Clearwater Revival songs! God knows how many Acda en de Munnik songs! And I'm not even talking about Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, B.B. King, George Harrison, Johnny Cash, Marvin Gaye, Al Green, Otis Redding, R.E.M., Randy Newman, The Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder, Sting, The Band, U2 and Van Morrison.
Now, it might not quite be in the same category as world hunger, mass murder or Michael Bolton. But it is annoying to me and it's also a good reason why someone should smarten up and give me my own radiostation (come on folks! it's almost Christmas time!).
Anyway, every year again I end up with a list I'm not quite happy with. And every year I tell myself I'm not going to do it again next year. And, well, here we are again. The list below is in random order, and it lacks almost all my favourite songs;
You guessed it, it is time to vote for the Top 2000 again.
For those not in the know; the Top 2000 is a yearly thing a Dutch radiostation does to me. The idea is the following; from boxing day to New Years eve this radiostation plays the favourite 2000 songs of the people who voted. You vote by picking your 10 favorite songs from a list they provide.
So far so good. Only problem?
How am I supposed to pick 10 songs out of over 2500 options? There's 5 Zucchero songs alone on the list! 16 Springsteen songs! One Ryan Adams song! 13 Creedence Clearwater Revival songs! God knows how many Acda en de Munnik songs! And I'm not even talking about Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, B.B. King, George Harrison, Johnny Cash, Marvin Gaye, Al Green, Otis Redding, R.E.M., Randy Newman, The Rolling Stones, Stevie Wonder, Sting, The Band, U2 and Van Morrison.
Now, it might not quite be in the same category as world hunger, mass murder or Michael Bolton. But it is annoying to me and it's also a good reason why someone should smarten up and give me my own radiostation (come on folks! it's almost Christmas time!).
Anyway, every year again I end up with a list I'm not quite happy with. And every year I tell myself I'm not going to do it again next year. And, well, here we are again. The list below is in random order, and it lacks almost all my favourite songs;
Bruce Springsteen - Born to run
(one of those few songs that you can listen to a million times and it never loses it's power)
Creedence Clearwater Revival - Who'll stop the rain?
(John Fogerty is one of the best song writers in the history of best song writers. I could only pick one CCR track and this is my favorite)
Derek & the Dominoes - Layla
(Plugged. OF COURSE! Eric Clapton wrotethis song when he was madly in love with his best friend George Harrison's wife, you can feel that absolutely horrible 'wanting-to-tear-out-your-heart' feeling of being in love with the wrong person in this song)
Otis Redding - The dock of the bay
(I would have gone for a Solomon Burke song, but King Solomon wasn't on the list (BASTARDS!). This, however, is one of the most beautiful soul songs ever made)
Rufus Wainwright - Beauty Mark
(Great song, interesting guy. Elton John thinks he's the new Elton John)
Ryan Adams - La cienega just smiled
(I fell deeply in love with Ryan Adams because of Gold and it's single New York New York. Since then I've been trying to get my posse (or my bitches if you will) to appreciate him too, sometimes with success. This was the only Ryan song on the list but it's also really beautiful)
Zucchero & B.B. King - Hey Man (Sing a Song)
(Hey Man was on Zucchero's 1988 Blue's album, in 1999 he performed it live with blues legend B.B. King and last year a studio adaption of that performance was released. It's a song about friendship, don't think I need to say more)
Zucchero - Diamante
(Always one of my favorite Zucchero tracks, for more recent emotional reasons read the "Fai piano i bimbi grandi non piangono" post)
Zucchero - Il Volo
(This song is from my favorite Zucchero album, Spirito DiVino, and it was also a big hit in The Netherlands. Which made me hate the song, but then I stopped hating it and now I think it's one of his best songs. If they play the duet version with Ronan Keating however I will personally come down to the radio station and castrate them)
Zucchero - Cosi Celeste
(I love this song. My Italian sucks but from what I get out of it, the song's about how someone can be a complete asshole at times but can do it so beautifully you still love that person. If it's not about that.... please don't tell me).
So, there you have it. Next year I'm so not doing it again.
Monday, November 07, 2005
ELTON!
I heard the saddest story today. Sad, that is, in a "I really shouldn't laugh but I do" sort of way, which, as you may or may not agree, is maybe the saddest of all sorts of sad.
Appareantly, last week in the UK a woman (probably in her early 70's or something) murdered her son. Sad isn't it? Wait, it gets sadder. The son in question, a man in his late 30's I believe, had Down syndrome. When I heard the story the big girl in me (the one I also blame for my weight) let out a big "Awww!".
So far, just sad no laughing. Unless you're really weird.
However, the reason the woman killed her son was the following; for weeks in a row her son had been listening to the same Elton John CD over and over and over and over again while constantly (and I do mean every-few-seconds-without-taking-a-break-constantly) chanting "ELTON! ELTON! ELTON! ELTON!". At a certain point something broke in the woman in question and she did what she did.
The thing is, that I can relate to the mother.
For years my sister, whose heart otherwise art blessed, had a fascination with horrible music. She used to not care at all about musicians untill she fell in love with.... 3T. For hours and hours in a row the absolutely horrific sounds of the Jackson brothers would come out of her room. And, sadly, also into my room. Although it was good to know my sister was no racist, that euphoria soon wore off as I (and my parents with me) realized that 3T songs were sweeter than the average Lionel Richie song (... I know).
Thankfully, like most teenage crushes my sisters obsession with Michael Jacksons nephews soon ended and was replaced by a Leonardo DiCaprio obsession. This was right around the time when Titanic was released and when the movie came out on video, my sister watched it at least twice a week (at her mothers place thankfully). For a moment me and my parents rejoiced. This obsession, which would proof far more lengthy than the 3T crush, at least would not involve music blasting through the house.
Obviously, we had not considered the role Celine Dion had played in the success of the movie Titanic.
Hours in a row "My heart will go on" was blasting through my sisters stereo. And although my father, never the best in historical details, later claimed it was Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" (thereby diminishing the depths of our pain by not remembering the actual song), we were hurting. And, I have to say, if we would have had my sister living with us 24/7, and thereby also playing that song 24/7, while chanting either "CELINE! CELINE! CELINE!" or "LEO! LEO! LEO!". Well....
So Elton boy, may you rest in peace. And if there is a heaven, I'm sure there's more Elton John music there than you've ever heard before.
Appareantly, last week in the UK a woman (probably in her early 70's or something) murdered her son. Sad isn't it? Wait, it gets sadder. The son in question, a man in his late 30's I believe, had Down syndrome. When I heard the story the big girl in me (the one I also blame for my weight) let out a big "Awww!".
So far, just sad no laughing. Unless you're really weird.
However, the reason the woman killed her son was the following; for weeks in a row her son had been listening to the same Elton John CD over and over and over and over again while constantly (and I do mean every-few-seconds-without-taking-a-break-constantly) chanting "ELTON! ELTON! ELTON! ELTON!". At a certain point something broke in the woman in question and she did what she did.
The thing is, that I can relate to the mother.
For years my sister, whose heart otherwise art blessed, had a fascination with horrible music. She used to not care at all about musicians untill she fell in love with.... 3T. For hours and hours in a row the absolutely horrific sounds of the Jackson brothers would come out of her room. And, sadly, also into my room. Although it was good to know my sister was no racist, that euphoria soon wore off as I (and my parents with me) realized that 3T songs were sweeter than the average Lionel Richie song (... I know).
Thankfully, like most teenage crushes my sisters obsession with Michael Jacksons nephews soon ended and was replaced by a Leonardo DiCaprio obsession. This was right around the time when Titanic was released and when the movie came out on video, my sister watched it at least twice a week (at her mothers place thankfully). For a moment me and my parents rejoiced. This obsession, which would proof far more lengthy than the 3T crush, at least would not involve music blasting through the house.
Obviously, we had not considered the role Celine Dion had played in the success of the movie Titanic.
Hours in a row "My heart will go on" was blasting through my sisters stereo. And although my father, never the best in historical details, later claimed it was Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" (thereby diminishing the depths of our pain by not remembering the actual song), we were hurting. And, I have to say, if we would have had my sister living with us 24/7, and thereby also playing that song 24/7, while chanting either "CELINE! CELINE! CELINE!" or "LEO! LEO! LEO!". Well....
So Elton boy, may you rest in peace. And if there is a heaven, I'm sure there's more Elton John music there than you've ever heard before.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Coughing hell
I feel one of those old fashioned rant posts coming up, so if you're a fan of one of those... goodie!
It all started about two weeks ago with the flu. Most people who know me will testify that I get the flu a lot. The flu and me, we're like this. We're friends, buddies, homeys if you will. We can, and will, hang together for weeks, maybe even months. Usually nobody gets hurt and I have a good excuse to lie in bed in the afternoon and watch Oprah (you go girlfriend).
Sadly enough, this time, the flu evolved into some weird other thing. First it moved upwards to my throat where it tried to choke me in thin slime (I never said it wasn't going to be a disgusting rant, okay). When that failed, it moved downwards to my chest area where it sticked around for a few days. The result was constant heavy coughing, some fever, and pain during breathing, which, as you may know, is something you do quite constantly while alive.
In short; problem.
The problem was magnified by the fact that the combination really hit me the hardest on saturday night. Although the Netherlands is one of the wealthiest countries per capita in the world, if you need a doctor in the weekend, you're screwed. Either you can try calling one and end up with that always helpful 'take an asprine and call me on monday' advice, or you can go straight to the ER (and since George Clooney left, who honestly cares).
So I coughed my way through the weekend and figured I'd call my doctor on monday morning, get an appointment for monday afternoon and figure out if I was going to live or not. Obviously, I forgot about the Dutch health system and it's prime problem; the assistent.
I started calling the doctors office around 8 AM and found the line was busy. I called again at 8.02 and found the line was busy. I called again at 8.07 and found the line was busy. I kept calling every few minutes untill 10.02 when the phone was finally answered and... I was put on hold. I was kept on hold for another 10 minutes until finally my doctors assistent answered the call. Jubilation!
I explained to the woman in question that I would like to make an appointment with my doctor (I should explain my doctor shares her practice with a few other doctors, thereby insuring in theory that someone can always help you, continue). The woman told me my doctor was on vacation.
Right.
Now, I have no problem with my doctor taking a, no doubt well deserved, break every now and then. She should, it's healthy. But why is it that in the last year I needed my doctor three times and all three times she's on vacation. What kind of evil plot is this? Does this woman plan her trips just around the time I am most volnerable for disseases?
Anyway. I explained to the woman that I then would like an appointment with her replacement. She told me that there were no replacements but other doctors also filling in for my doctor.
"Fine" I told her "I would like an appointment with one of them then".
"Only if it's urgent" she said "What are your complaints"
I explained the problem. The woman did not sound impressed.
"Do you have fever?" she asked.
"Not all the time but every few hours, yes" I answered.
"Temperature?" she informed
"I don't know" I told her "I don't have a thermometer"
The woman was silent for a moment. "How" she began "do you know you have a fever then?". You could hear her celebrate her personal victory on the other side of the line. I retaliated by telling her that, no, I could not give her exact numbers, but I could feel whether or not I had a fever. "No, you can't, because sometimes people say they have a fever and then it turns out they don't. So you can't".
I was stunned for a moment. Was I supposed to get into a discussion on fevers and if you can feel them with her?
"Okay, so maybe I do not have a fever. I have a serious complaint anyway, can I get an appointment?"
"No. We have to know if it's serious or not"
"It is"
"We have to know if you have a fever"
"Right now, I don't but sometimes I have"
"What you should do is buy a thermometer, take up your temperature and call me in the afternoon"
Now, my people generally likes bitchy women. We like them because we don't have to date them but when they start screwing us it stops being funny.
"Look" I said "I want an appointment, I can do any time today or tomorrow"
"I can't schedule you in for tomorrow"
By now I could see her as some human flesh eating African dictator, such was her character.
"I want an appointment"
".... Fine, tomorrow, 2;10 PM"
For the first time in quite a few weeks I was not quite sure what to say.
--
Anyway, turned out the coughing is just a virus and I got some pills that should stop it. Only problem; they make me really sleepy, so I'm not allowed to drive. Or touch machines. Goodie.
It all started about two weeks ago with the flu. Most people who know me will testify that I get the flu a lot. The flu and me, we're like this. We're friends, buddies, homeys if you will. We can, and will, hang together for weeks, maybe even months. Usually nobody gets hurt and I have a good excuse to lie in bed in the afternoon and watch Oprah (you go girlfriend).
Sadly enough, this time, the flu evolved into some weird other thing. First it moved upwards to my throat where it tried to choke me in thin slime (I never said it wasn't going to be a disgusting rant, okay). When that failed, it moved downwards to my chest area where it sticked around for a few days. The result was constant heavy coughing, some fever, and pain during breathing, which, as you may know, is something you do quite constantly while alive.
In short; problem.
The problem was magnified by the fact that the combination really hit me the hardest on saturday night. Although the Netherlands is one of the wealthiest countries per capita in the world, if you need a doctor in the weekend, you're screwed. Either you can try calling one and end up with that always helpful 'take an asprine and call me on monday' advice, or you can go straight to the ER (and since George Clooney left, who honestly cares).
So I coughed my way through the weekend and figured I'd call my doctor on monday morning, get an appointment for monday afternoon and figure out if I was going to live or not. Obviously, I forgot about the Dutch health system and it's prime problem; the assistent.
I started calling the doctors office around 8 AM and found the line was busy. I called again at 8.02 and found the line was busy. I called again at 8.07 and found the line was busy. I kept calling every few minutes untill 10.02 when the phone was finally answered and... I was put on hold. I was kept on hold for another 10 minutes until finally my doctors assistent answered the call. Jubilation!
I explained to the woman in question that I would like to make an appointment with my doctor (I should explain my doctor shares her practice with a few other doctors, thereby insuring in theory that someone can always help you, continue). The woman told me my doctor was on vacation.
Right.
Now, I have no problem with my doctor taking a, no doubt well deserved, break every now and then. She should, it's healthy. But why is it that in the last year I needed my doctor three times and all three times she's on vacation. What kind of evil plot is this? Does this woman plan her trips just around the time I am most volnerable for disseases?
Anyway. I explained to the woman that I then would like an appointment with her replacement. She told me that there were no replacements but other doctors also filling in for my doctor.
"Fine" I told her "I would like an appointment with one of them then".
"Only if it's urgent" she said "What are your complaints"
I explained the problem. The woman did not sound impressed.
"Do you have fever?" she asked.
"Not all the time but every few hours, yes" I answered.
"Temperature?" she informed
"I don't know" I told her "I don't have a thermometer"
The woman was silent for a moment. "How" she began "do you know you have a fever then?". You could hear her celebrate her personal victory on the other side of the line. I retaliated by telling her that, no, I could not give her exact numbers, but I could feel whether or not I had a fever. "No, you can't, because sometimes people say they have a fever and then it turns out they don't. So you can't".
I was stunned for a moment. Was I supposed to get into a discussion on fevers and if you can feel them with her?
"Okay, so maybe I do not have a fever. I have a serious complaint anyway, can I get an appointment?"
"No. We have to know if it's serious or not"
"It is"
"We have to know if you have a fever"
"Right now, I don't but sometimes I have"
"What you should do is buy a thermometer, take up your temperature and call me in the afternoon"
Now, my people generally likes bitchy women. We like them because we don't have to date them but when they start screwing us it stops being funny.
"Look" I said "I want an appointment, I can do any time today or tomorrow"
"I can't schedule you in for tomorrow"
By now I could see her as some human flesh eating African dictator, such was her character.
"I want an appointment"
".... Fine, tomorrow, 2;10 PM"
For the first time in quite a few weeks I was not quite sure what to say.
--
Anyway, turned out the coughing is just a virus and I got some pills that should stop it. Only problem; they make me really sleepy, so I'm not allowed to drive. Or touch machines. Goodie.
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