Kid calls my office says "I know that you have to have 30 credits and a 3.6 to be in the Honors Program, but what if you have 29 credits" YOU'RE NOT FUCKING ELIGIBLE, YOU FUCKWIT!!!

By definition, if you can't read the instructions, you're not honors program material.

I grit my teeth so hard to keep from losing my temper in a monumental way at an idiot medical assistant today that now my face hurts.

The story: My tongue has been sore since February. It looks like a form of a fungal infection, but several rounds of anti-fungal medication did nothing for it. When I went to the ENT, after he offered no ideas or solutions about my sinus pain, he said he didn't think the tongue thing was a fungus, but the thing to do was to take a culture and find out. He noted that it would take a while to get results. I got results to my Kaiser account online about bacteria, but nothing about fungi.

Several weeks went by, in which I was distracted by the tendonitis in my wrist going to DefCon 4. Finally I e-mailed him, and he discovered that the entirely wrong test had been ordered. They set up another appointment two weeks later for me to have a new culture. I got the same assistant person, and when she looked it up in the computer, she said, "Oh, I guess I ordered the wrong test. At least we're not charging you for this visit." Then she giggled. When the doctor asked her for the testing stuff, she brought back a handful of random different things and said, "Is one of these right?" He grit his teeth and left the room. He then found the right testing kit. She started offering random ideas about what she should put in the computer to get the right test. He grit his teeth again and said "I'll do it."

Browder is delicious. I almost expect Cass to show up now to laugh at me for reasons I will not specify. Anyhow, he kind of needs to be observed in motion. And in leather.

I can do it for her!

Good gravy, Ginger. If your doctor's back office staff get any stupider, he'll have to have Crighton come up with a plan to get them to accomplish anything.

That's astounding, Ginger. You don't see such blatant incompetence paraded quite so nakedly very often.

Abby is spending the night at a friend's. Friend's mom is one of my best friends (works pretty well, that). Anyhow, my friend just emailed me with a snippet of Abby's dinner conversation with my friend's son.

A: Michael Jackson died.
C: the basketball player?
A: no that’s Michael Jordan
C: oh right he’s the one from Space Jam
A: Michael Jackson is the one who looks like a white zombie lady because of a skin infection that rotted his face off

::facepalm::

"Is one of these right?"

Holy mother, Ginger, I'm amazed you didn't reach for the nearest hypodermic and stab her with it. I applaud your restraint.

Teppy linked a picture where Browder does that thing with his thumb.

*dies*

Oh, dear that kills me every. single. time.

Anyhow, he kind of needs to be observed in motion. And in leather.

He makes a leather duster look even better than James Marsters does.

What? I said it!

...then he does the whole pouty "I'm an Evil Peacekeeper" thing with his eyes and mouth, and the fakey fakey Peacekeeper accent, and he gets all stompy stompy and Jilli is, I'm sure, chasing her eyes across the floor because they've rolled right out of her head.

I'm like this at Club V, too. Certain Specific Guys apparently make my face to amusing things, because Jilli snickers, then slaps my hand (hard! with her hand covered in heavy metal rings OW!Yay!Ow!)

Boys. I mean MEN. Gah.

A: Michael Jackson is the one who looks like a white zombie lady because of a skin infection that rotted his face off

You saying she's wrong?