I am not CEO or General Manager of the universe. Shocking, but true. Nevertheless, there is some nasty business that has unfortunately come to my attention and MUST be addressed. If you are the least bit squeamish, get some ginger ale.
Public Nose Pickers, especially Line-Cutting Nose Pickers
Is it “Finger Up Your Nose Month”? If so, I missed the announcement and refuse to participate. Apparently many people opted in. I’ll give you one example. Dig this (no pun intended) … by some miracle, am standing in First Class line at the airport. There’s a line. Am decked out in flight gear – jeans, t-shirt, dark glasses, baseball cap – and standing in line because I follow rules at airports. When we are just about to board the plane, a local “captain of industry” strides right up to the front of the line and inserts himself. Bad behavior. Cutters suck. He’d already settled into his seat when I boarded so I pulled my cap down so he wouldn’t recognize me. As I was settling into my seat, two rows behind and other side of aisle, Mr. $1000 Suit proceeded to down two glasses of wine while picking his nose and flinging the contents into the aisle. Not just once, either. The woman in front of me turned around and said, “Did you see that?” I nodded, replying in a loud voice, “He’s just a gross line-cutting, nose-picking, booger-flinging moron.” And then ducked behind my seat, partially because I’m a chicken but more to avoid his nasal debris.
Saw Mr. Nose Finger again just weeks ago but was able to avoid him due to large crowd. Every time I see him, the only thing I think is:
It’s no secret that I detest my GP. Haven’t changed because I only have to see him once every couple of years. Until recently. Had to fast and go into his office for a bloodletting. Have I heard the results yet? No. Have I received a bill for $400+ for the lab work? YES. His nurse called me last week and asked for my phone number. WHAT? Apparently Dr. DoDo called my number – the same number the nurse was speaking to me on – and he said it didn’t work. Methinks he doesn’t work. Woke up this morning to a message he’d left on my cell last night. Late Sunday night. Saying he’d call me back. His casual approach to medicine would indicate to most that I’m 100% perfecto, but no, he’s the sort who would say, “Uh, you’re half-dead but I can only think of one thing at a time so, uh, I’ll look up your stuff in that big book thingee and call you back.” MORON. DOUBLE MORON. Contact your patients when you get their reports and then bill them. Don’t call on Sunday, period. Oh, and by the way, YOU’RE FIRED!
Over both of those losers.