W.A.W.

W.A.W. What A Week! Let's see, Monday began with a doctor's appointment. A new doctor. Let me just say that I, like most people, HATE going to the doctor. My new doctor is very funny and my appointment seemed more like a comedy routine than a routine doctor appointment. He and I were batting it back and forth like we were competing for Wimbelton! A first in my history with doctors. Bedside manner is hard to find these days, but this guy has got personality that just might have me feeling less than dread at the thought of visiting him! So, it was a very exhausting day and he ordered a lung function test for two days later. EEK!

Ok, so I have this paper with the order for my lung function test that has two different appointment times on it. What? I call the facility to see where I am to go, verify (?) THE time and am told, yet, another, different time to be there. Ok, whatever. Maybe I'll just arrive whenever I feel like it, since no one really knows when I am supposed to be there! AAhhh! I love efficiency! So I arrive, get checked in, and am given a "pager" like I'm waiting for a table at Outback Steakhouse. Ok, I am the only person in the waiting room, and I'm sitting right in front of the desk. Did I really need a pager? I was seated before my pager went off and proceeded to go over my menu-oh, sorry, go over the rules of the test with the therapist. The shrimp looked better than the breathing machine, but I decided I should try to choke down what the doctor had ordered for me. The test itself was not that bad, but after arriving and learning that blood would also have to be drawn, I can't wait for my follow-up appointment so I can give my new doctor a piece of my mind! You do not send me in for something and "spring" needles on me! I need advance warning-NOT an ambush! Dr. Humor is soooo gonna get it next time I see him! Not only did they take blood, but they took it from my wrist! You know, that artery where your thumb joint meets your wrist? My whole arm hurt for two days, and my fingers were numb. NOT cool!!

So, after surviving all that, I was still trying to supress my anxiety of the big company dinner with my husband. After a botched haircut, furiously trying to find a good bra and gut sucker, having to polish all my nails, pluck eyebrows, shave legs, moisturize, paint face, make sure my "deo" was actually "little black dress approved", wiping deo off the side of my dress *grimace*, admiring my husband, smoking a pack of cigarettes to calm my nerves, I was "ready" to go. As ready as I could be!

All in all, the dinner was nice. I do have one question about the menu. Who serves spinich stuffed chicken at an affair where everyone is dressed to the nines? Although I did not witness anyone with a big wad of leafy greens suspened from between their teeth, it could have happened. Yea, that is really gonna take the "OOMPH!" out of that floor length, citrus orange evening gown! Ya think?

My darling husband and I are seated at a table with two young interns and a very nice, friendly couple. One intern said nothing all night. The other...should I start another paragraph? Ok, this guy is not "right" on ANY level. He is one of those nervous people who have no sense of personal space, breathes heavily and erratically, and was sweating more bullets than on sale at the Gun and Knife Show! He's one of those people who would believe even the most outlandish story you could come up with and be totally amazed that it could happen. I'm gonna call this guy Bullets. Ok-Bullets kept posing really strange questions, like, "Do you think Airbus is better than Boeing?", or "Do you know where the candy store is?" HUH? What? Everyone at the table began sporting a total look of bewilderment for their permanent expression as the night wore on. It was...well, there are just no words. Ok, also, everyone knows that there are certain topics to stay away from, especially in a group of people you don't know: religion, politics, the war in Iraq. Bullets started asking everyone their opinion about the reasons we are there, how to get out, what we should do about it. NO! NO! NO! Bad Dog!!! Just when I was about to whack him on the nose with my program and go chain him up in the parking lot, the "MC" began speaking, thus throwing Bullets a bone of salvation from me. And so it begins...dinner is served and Bullets is hovering over his bread plate with his head almost in my lap. I kept moving my chair trying to avoid his head in my lap and being stuck having to pet him all night and tell him everything was gonna be ok. I ended up straddling the table leg, almost sharing my husband's chair with him to avoid this guy's panting, cold nose on my leg. I am, litterally about to come unglued, having to lean to one side in a gut sucker that is crushing the ribs under my boobs, thinking that at any moment, the gut sucker will burst open, taking out the first three rows of tables, when the affair finally comes to a close. Whew! We make final pleasantries and prepare to leave when Bullets comes up to shake my hand. "Nice to meet you, Mam," he pants. "Nice to meet you, too,"I reply. What I was thinking was, "Good job, Cronk! Here's a snack!"