Saturday, October 27, 2007

6th Circle of Hell, or Post Office Madness

I had a few errands to run this morning, so once I peeled myself out of bed, I gathered myself into what resembled a respectable appearance (meaning I actually washed my face) and I was off.

I picked up a caramel mach at the 'Bux, and mosied over for a pedi. After that I headed to the mall to Bath and Body Works to pick up my check from my part time job, and spend some monies. Onward to the bank to deposit said check, and then off to Tarjay to get some weenie candy.

I was feeling pretty good about the fact that I had accomplished so much, so I decided to head home and get some more laundry done. I pulled into my driveway, gathered my belongings, and headed to the mailbox. Nothing spectacular, a couple of bills, my Williams Sonoma catty, which is always a good time, and some junk.

I headed up to my house. And that's when I saw it. The subpoena of torture. Stuffed so nonchalantly into the crevice between my door and the door jamb. My decree of execution. I had missed a delivery of an Express Package from the United States Post Office. BUT - I could come pick it up! Just head down to the good ole PO! And so, I did.

Let me just say that I don't think the post office is terrible, per se; I do think that the majority of the clientele were dropped on their heads, repeatedly, as infants.

And today was no different.

I get there at 2:15. They close at 3:00. I am probably fifth in line. Not bad, right? These PO employees are rockin through people. Getting them in, out and on their way. I was getting glad in my pants! I'm gonna get out of here in a reasonable.....screech! What's that? Oh! Dumbass, party of one, two people in front of me.

He gets called to the counter and the ensuing conversation went like this:

Postal Worker: Can I help you?
Mr. Out on a Day Pass: I got this notice in the mail that I have a package and need to pick it up.
PW: Do you have the notice with you sir?
Mr. Clueless: No, but I can give you my address.
PW: Sure. (She grabs a piece of paper) Go ahead.
Mr. Should Have Taken His Meds: Uh..let's see...16100 SW Sorry Ass Excuse for a Human Lane, Tigard.
PW: Is that 97223, or 97224? We have two zip codes for Tigard.
Mr. How Does This Man Function in Society: Uh - Uh - how about let's try 97223. That should be it.

Conversation in my head: SHOULD be it? You don't know your own freaking ZIP CODE? Are you kidding me? This is going to be great blog fodder!

PW: OK sir, I will go look, I'll be right back
Mr. Dumbass: OK.

Postal Worker goes to look for package, but I am suspecting it wasn't a Herculean effort, if you know what I mean.

PW: I am sorry sir, I cannot find it. Do you remember what box was marked on the notice? Was it a letter, parcel, package, box? (Hands him a sample notice and he looks it over)
Mr. Holy Shit, Could He Be Any Stupider: Ummm...let's go with package.

At this point folks, the line is starting to get annoyed. Why in the HELL do people insist on wasting other people's time by not coming to the game prepared? WHY? So this time, the conversation wasn't in my head, it was out of my mouth: "Let's go with? How about let's go with go get the damn notice!" The guy in front of me chuckles. Asshat at the counter doesn't even turn around at this point. I think he could feel the gamma rays of death that the people in line were shooting him. Oh - and the best part? It's 2:40 now. Seriously!

PW: I am sorry sir, I cannot find it without the number on the notice.
Mr. Needs a Kevlar Vest to Leave the Building at This Point: Oh. Well, ok, it's really not a big deal I guess. I can go home and see if I can find the notice. Thanks!

Dum dum leaves without a single glance at anyone in line. Good luck in the parking lot buddy, I'm pretty sure I saw someone heading out there with a blanket and a baseball bat.

So I finally get my package and go home. Where I decided to blog the entire experience. Cause it was SO incredibly unbelievable.

But you know what they say: Truth is stranger than fiction!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Et Tu, McDonald's?

It's been one of those months here. One obstacle after another. I'm a bit stressed at work (mostly due to the workload, partly due to the fact that I HATE what I am doing). Granted, I don't hate everything I am doing, but I do hate some parts of it.

So today being a particularly crappy day, what with SO annoying co-workers and crappy service from one of our wholesalers, I decided McDonald's was in order for lunch. I know, bad girl. But sometimes, I just want some goddamned french fries, OK?

So I go. I ordered the Chicken Selects meal and a diet Dr. Pepper. Go ahead, roll your eyes now. So I get my order and go back to my office. I unpack the fries (YUM!) and the chicken selects. I then dump my box of fries in the top compartment of my chicken selects box. And that's when I see it. The fry box has a Nutrition label on it.

What. The. Fuck.

McDonalds is comfort food. Food you KNOW is bad for you but that every once in a while, you just need to have. I don't NEED the nutrition facts. I already know that I have most certainly eaten my week's worth of carbs and fat halfway through that box o' fries. I don't need to SEE that I've done it. It's like going through a haunted house with the lights on. Yeah, I know that actors are fake, but do I really need to have it spelled out for me? No.

So I propose that Mickey D's do us all a favor - or at least the ones who don't frequent the place. (Which would exclude all the whiskey tango people that think eating there is a night out) Offer the "Eyes Wide Open" or "Eyes Wide Shut" value option. I'd like mine shut please.

Thank you.

Monday, October 08, 2007

I'm Surrounded By Idiots

I swear sometimes that my doctor doesn't listen to me. I have repeatedly let them know what our plan is for getting knocked up again. Clomid, ultrasound monitoring, HCG trigger shot, and then insemination.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

So why is it that every single time I call, she's trying to throw something else at me? She mentioned injectables, we decided we don't want to go that route quite yet. Next thing I know, I am getting a call from letting me know my meds are ready to ship. The convo was fabulous.

Me: Meds? I didn't order any meds from you.
IVF: No, your doctor called it in for you.
Me: Well, I don't know why she did that, we have decided not to go that route right yet
IVF: Well, I'll just put them on hold for you...
Me: No, go ahead and cancel them. I won't be ordering them.
IVF: (with a decidedly nastier tone in her voice) Look, I'm just the middle man. I'm just saying that I'll put them on hold....
Me: (with a decidedly nastier tone in my voice) Well, I don't care who you are. I asked you nicely to just cancel the order. You can hold it until the cows come home, we aren't going that route. And by the way, if we ever DO decide to go that route, I sure as HELL will not be ordering from you.

Really? Seriously? This is who IVF Meds has representing them? Gah!

So I call my doctor, and explain for what seems like the eleventy billionth time, that we are not going that route.

I know right now you are probably thinking - get a new doc! A-ha! If it were only that easy! See, my insurance doesn't cover fertility. They cover elective abortions, but not fertility. They'll cover you if your kid has a kid, but not fertility. They'll cover effing VIAGRA for crying out loud, but they don't cover fertility. Can ya tell it chaps my ass a bit?

So, this is the only RE in the area that accepts my insurance (what she can bill, she does, like diagnostic ultrasounds, lab work, etc.), and so I go to her.

So that's my story.

So far.

Friday, October 05, 2007

A little catchup time

So I was just reading over my old posts and realized that I really need to catch you up on what's been going on.

So yeah, last we left the happy couple, they had finally managed to get knocked up. Three years of waiting and they were pregnant! Oh, and they were moving back to Phoenix. But (insert sinister music here) not for long.

So we went back to Phoenix, and things were going great. Until, that is, my January checkup appointment with the OB. He couldn't find the heartbeat, and after ultrasound confirmation, we discovered that we had lost the baby. Heartbreaking as it was then, and still is, Chris and I have given it up to God and moved on.

In March, we loaded up the moving truck (again) and relocated to Portland. Land of the Ports. And the lagers and the stouts and the ales.

So here we are - in the rainy PNW. And getting ready to go another round of IUI.

I guess that's it. Stay tuned for more.

And we're on in

So after a lot of consideration and some good thoughts from my sister, I decided to reopen the blog. The miscarriage that Chris and I suffered in January was probably one of the hardest things we have ever had to face as a married couple, and I think we came through it with flying colors.

So now I have decided to journal and share about this struggle with infertility. As most of you know, I have a quick wit and a sharp tongue, so if you are easily offended, well, then you must not be one of my friends, cause them bitches don't give a.....

Oh yeah, family show.

So if you want to read of the sometimes humorous, sometimes heartbreaking journey that my husband and I are on trying to produce a youngin, then read on fellow member. Read on.

If not, I don't need your comments, or your opinions. It's MY blog, which means I get to post what I want to. So neener.