What? I disappear for a week and you want an explanation? Hmm....
How about a "I can't believe she just said that!" story instead?
I had a really bad abscess last week. Painful, wretched, much thrashing and twisting of sheets. I believe I requested an epidural for my face at one point though Mr X says it doesn't count since I regularly state that it would be a good day for an epidural. I say it does because this time it was for my face and it would have greatly reduced my crabbiness.
He now wishes he had become an anesthesiologist.
I was a horrid little bitch all week, then came Friday. Friday my head spun around and I spit pea soup and sounded like Mushmouth. Friday I woke up with troutmouth.
It dawned on me, as I tried to push some Motrin past my swollen upper lip, that maybe I should like, I don't know, see a Doctor? Except that it was Friday. You know, when every other damn person in the world decides they better go see the Doctor and get their percocet refilled.
Which is how I ended up at the walk-in clinic sitting next to The Queen of Bitchy.
I set Hurricane down to play as we waited the requisite 2 hours.
QB looked me up and down and clearly found me lacking.
I'd like to know just what is wrong with having Kix in your hair and smushed in banana in your pants? This can't be worse than wearing pajama bottoms to the mall. Right? Anyone?
Anyway, she looked me over and then did a double take.
"Where did you get your lips done? They look amazing!"
"Umbidi uh doo?"
"Ib said, is an infeckthun."
"Right. Sure. Why don't you just tell me?"
Now a normal person would have simply ignored her, not rubbing their finger around the abscess, grimacing and offering to pass on the thrashing, retching, horridness in order to be graced with troutmouth.
Yes a normal person.
But I think I've made it quite clear that I will never be a normal person.
She left which meant I only had to wait an hour and a half. Yay me!