I'm gonna be here all gottdamn day. Gotta love the VA, but of course medicine with the HMO system has degenerated to this level. I relish the prospect of waiting five hours to be seen and five more hours for my antibiotics. I hope the Aleve holds out or I'm gonna be hurtin'. There's a guy in here who looks like Morgan Freeman from a distance. Is he researching his next role? Undoubtedly he already knows what it feels like to hurry up and wait.
Gotta find a new place to live. I think I'll try moveforfree.com. Most likely it'll just be another apartment and not some funky little stand-alone house like I was hoping. If it's gonna be another apartment, it might be worth considering staying where I am. I could easily do worse; I'm on the top floor and there's no footsteps on my head. There's no storage, though, no place to put all my crap.
Maybe I should have grabbed a bite to eat but I was puking last night so I didn't want to risk it. Mike called me while I was worshipping the porcelain god. Calling Ralph on the porcelain phone. Heh heh heh. But throwing up is anything but funny to the sick person. Anyway, phone rang and I was like, "I'm indisposed!" I returned his call and he and I agreed to call it off. Areas of incompatibility: long-term relationship projection--he's already searching for a spouse and I most certainly ain't; he wants kids and even if I did, my child-bearing years are drawing to a close; he's a Republican--gahhhh! and wants to run for public office...I hate politics and vote Democrat; religion: he's a practicing Christian. So in all the major categories, strike, strike and strike. Not to mention that his mom hates me, that sort of seals the deal. I only regret that we didn't have sex, but it would be best if he waited until he was in a more suitable relationship. He and I sure generated a lot of heat in our makeout session, but I'm not interested in being the proverbial older woman who breaks him in and shows him the ropes. Funny how such a seemingly little factor makes such a huge difference. Kinda like in American Beauty in the makeout scene between Mena Suvari and Kevin Spacey--it changed everything.
Besides, I've sworn off sex, at least the penetration aspects of it. The way I get these godforsaken bladder infections, it's not worth it. It's not worth the biggest orgasm ever. I threw away my toy, expensive as it was. Every time I've been in a relationship, my gynecological problems always put a damper on my desire. I should be grateful not to be obligated in that respect.
I hate the way these people don't think a bladder infection is an emergency. People who came after me are being seen first.
I couldn't take it anymore when I saw blood in my urine this morning. It hurt so bad and I started crying. I feel somehow persecuted, like I'm not allowed my sexuality by some higher power, like I'm being punished. Newman jumped on my lap and comforted me. He's so darling.
Call my name! "Newpeep." Say it! "Newpeep." Bah.
2:00 p.m.
Still heeeeerrrrre. I thought I was exaggerating when I said five hours. Word has it that the pharmacy is far behind too. Hmm, while I'm waiting for the pharmacy, maybe I'll go to the chapel to nap, uh, I mean, to pray.
I've never seen so many wheelchairs in my life, or stumps or sores either. The staff here is overwhelmed. Damn, man, button your shirt--disco is dead! Chest hair hanging out, "I'm sho shexy." Ugh, you wish.
I'm gonna miss Mike's sexy deep voice. It was funny, some of the things he felt insecure about, like his lack of facial hair. I guess it bothered him that he looked so young, younger than he actually was. He also seemed to feel conflicted about his Hispanic surname. Neither of those aspects bothered me any. I thought "Newpeep Rivera" sounded pretty good. ;o)
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 9:03 AM
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