Jou are feenished. Hab a nice day!

Is it too much to ask that someone keep the appointment they set for you?! Two hours I've waited for this Dr. To tell me I'm fat! I've got friends that tell me that in about 4 seconds after I see them and there is no Co-pay involved. Maybe I can guilt the Dr. into giving me a breast exam and pap on the house for waiting so long.

This is what is in the waiting room:
A cute little black boy that looks like the Lil Bill cartoon.
His mom who looks like Alicia Keys. (I find out later her name is Tiquesia)
A fifty year old Hispanic female with Bleach blond hair that's way too short(the hair not the Hispanic).
A 18 year kid named Papadopolous who looks Hispanic. Three older black ladies.
A sick screaming white kid.
His apologetic mother.
A 55 year old white lady who looks like she just woke up.
A fat 25 or so gangster looking guy who smells good. (when I'm bored I smell gangsters. It's an odd hobby but I really don't have the time to get into something more involved.)
A white soccer mom type that looks like she been crying since the presidential election. Shes got two little kids with her. A 9 mo old bald baby a 7 year old. Both appear to be dripping with snot brought on by a flu from either a pig or bird.

I finally get a room. 45 minutes after my scheduled appointment. My Dr. comes in. She is a 4'11" Filipino. Really cute and very plain spoken. Now even being aware of her particular "In your Face" bedside manor, she still took me by surprise when she walked in the little room with my lab results in hand and asks, Dr Josef Mengele like, "So, is there any history of Pancreatic or Liver cancer in your family?" My reply was "Not...... yet." Now I'm off for more tests. Yaaaaay.
To me, this was like walking up to some one's house, unscrewing their porch light, while putting on my Jason Mask, unsheathing my machete, pouring a bottle of ketchup on the blade, and ringing the doorbell only to find the person at the door screaming and dancing in place in fear when they see me. My question to them would be something like, "Do you have a phobia about fat people in hockey masks wielding a slightly used machete?"
Anyway I arrive at the second hospital and find the waiting room full of people needing some sort of imaging. MRI's or Sonograms, and ultrasounds. All having a similar characteristic; weight and lots of it. I was getting the ultrasound. My second one in a month, (Still not pregnant, BTW).
Anyway my time in line comes up and I get a slightly effeminate Colombian guy named Julio. He speaks with a heavy accented lisp which already makes me feel a little better and helps to get my mind off the fact that my Dr. may think I'm pregnant. The Ultrasound machine is shaped like a Giant Krispy Kreme donut, with a place to lie down in front of it. I ask Julio if I needed to take off "muh bling" to which he replied, "Oh no thur. Thees is a Ultra sound macheen, not an MRI. All I needs for jou to do is unbuckle jou pants down to jour mid-thigh and lay own de table." I said ok and asked if this was because of the metal accessories that are on pants like buttons and zippers, to which my friend Julio replied, "No eats because jou are cute. No I'm juss keeding! I'm so baaaaddd! Jes, eats because of dee metal. Now lay down sealy!"He tells me to close my eyes, which I do nervously, and he lines up a laser sight onto my forehead. When I look up there are two icons on the underside of the donut that I'm looking up at. One is a stick figure's head showing him smiling (I thought) and the other is the same stick figure's head, but looking like he's holding his breath. (I was right on that one.) Julio tells me when the 1st figure lights up in green, I'm to exhale and breath normally. When the icon with the guy holding his breath lights up, I'm to hold my breath. Easy. I see the magnets starting to rotate around inside the donut, and the light comes on for the guy holding the breath, so I do it for 20 seconds. With my pants around my thighs. When the light comes on to breath I do so, heavily. This goes back and forth for 4 or 5 minutes or so. Julio comes out of what I was guessing was a lead lined vault and says, "Jou are feenished. Hab a nice day." "Thanks you too" I say. I walk out of the hospital a little light headed, a little relieved that it didn't take that long, and a little flattered. ;)
I'll keep you in the loop.

Pascal the mask eating French Baby

There's this baby that has captured about four aisles of attention on the plane I'm now on. Let's call him Pascal. Really cute little boy a little older than a year I'd guess. Pascal's parents seem about 25 or so. When the plane started to pressure up, he started crying. Then this precious little one seemed a little scared so he cried a little louder. The mother being overly self conscious about the crying started doing everything in her power to quiet the little one. I've been in her shoes albeit it's been quite a while so I felt sorry for her, the baby and the husband. The mother started to try to get the baby's mind off of the fact that security at that particular airport was lax and that now they were hurling thru the air in a compressed tube of air with people the didn't know.
No. Wait.
That last part was more me than the baby but anyway.
The mother got the baby's attention by turning on and off the light above her. This worked and the baby giggled. So the father tried the same thing. Pascal giggled again (I did too but only a little bit). When the mother stopped turning on and off the light the baby would look at her with an expression like "Hey what tha hell?" but in a lil baby French accent. ("Sac re Bleu!" i think) So what does the mother do? What every parent including myself has done; create a strobe light for the other
passengers so the baby won't cry. Now aside from getting a small seizure from the strobe light in seat 7A, I did eventually get used to it. So I went back to my paperwork. That's when I heard the French cuss words. I look up and over and noticed the baby giggling and the mother and father looking panicked. Apparently you are only supposed to depress the little light bulb symbol 57 times and not 58 before
giving it a break...............because that is precisely what it will do. The light bulb fell into the mothers lap! Then a few seconds later the little yellow air mask that the flight attendants have always shown us only we've never actually seen one fall except on the number 1 hit television show "Lost", falls!
Anyway as soon as the mask falls about twenty of us simultaneously look out the window to see if everything was still OK. It was. I giggled a nervous laugh. Very nervous at first. I mean I am flying from Canada whose claim to fame is Maple Syrup, Canadian Bacon, and Hockey. Not airport security. Meanwhile Pascal, is eating the yellow mask. I mean eating it like there is little baby catnip on it. He must be teething, because if memory serves, I thought I was sure they took "Gerber's Lil Baby Catnip" off the market. The much older French couple behind the young parents decided to help. Trying to get Pascals attention by acting like their fingers were the Itsy bitsy spider. It worked. Well for me anyway. I was mesmerized by the older woman's perfect nails at the end of her fat yet surprisingly still beautiful fingers. She very sweetly made Pascal forget about his parents freaking out with her "Not so Itsy Bitsy Spider". The older woman begins to cough because she giggled, and not a normal cough. Like the term "death rattle" kind of cough. Like the kind of cough Doc Holliday had. The kind of cough that seems to go on wayyyyyyy too long (like this analogy) while she infects the entire plane with her French Canadian tuberculosis. I know what your thinking. You're thinking, "Sac re Bleu!" but I'm OK. I just held by breath for 60 second increments and when I did breathe I did it through my shirt, and I continued to type. Do you know why? Because the story of Pascal had to be told, that's why.
;)

Love You!

My God I love you!
That phrase works so well as long as I’m not trying to quiet the wife during an argument.
Then……………..it’s like drinking a fifth of Jet fuel and peeing on an A&M Bonfire.
We’re great now. Don’t start fretting about our stability. We’re healthier than we’ve ever been marriage wise. We just had a difference of opinion about a couple of things. I thought (stupidly) that I’d say, “you know regardless of how we feel about this, I sure love you!”. She took it as “Shut up and stop arguing with me……………………………and I love you……and stuff. “
I recently had the same kind of disagreement with my 15 year old daughter. Although ours was maybe a little different though. She has several friends who are girls who believe they are “bi-sexual”. I explained to her rather delicately at first, that there is no such thing as “bi-sexual”, and that you’re either Gay or Straight. The analogy I used that she vehemently disagreed with was Pregnancy, in that you can’t be “sort of Pregnant”. You also can’t be “Sort of Straight” or “Sort of Gay”.

Usually I post things that made me giggle or laugh. Here’s something that pissed me off:
University students want 'Our Lord' removed from diplomas
http://www.woai.com/content/blogs/headlines/story/University-students-want-Our-Lord-removed-from/MseBLVfmmkmypXZXCjH99g.cspx
You’re in a free country! You’re at a private university! You’re at a university whose foundation was built around Christian principles, and wait for it. ………………………….THE TRINITY!!!

GOD I LOVE YOU!!!!!