A Day (or Two) Late, A Dollar Short

I thought I'd missed all the weekend fun when I slept through the Saturday night party I'd been talking up for days beforehand. A bit overzealous in my efforts to get wasted before the Les Savy Fav set at the alcohol-free Fest Full of Rock, next thing I know its 3am, the party goers are returning to my home, and I can't recall the point at which they left and I didn't. (I suspect that point followed closely my departure from the Ballroom, which came on the heels of my making a total ass of myself in front of the band when I went to go retrieve toilet paper from the green room. I somehow managed to drop the tower of rolls, twice, all the while blubbering to them about lord knows what and only after the fact realizing that the blank stares they wore matched perfectly with the "how did this idiot drunk girl get in here and what is she doing?" I'm now sure was running through their respective heads.)

Never fear though. Our seemingly low-key Sunday night soiree turned into a riotous good time. Naturally, however, I was asleep for that part and can only imagine the fun based on the accumulation of beer cans, random food items, and general mess that I found in the living room Monday morning that definitely wasn't there when I retired Sunday night. But before the big sleep, there was this

The Long One About the Urinary Tract Infection

I was already in a bad mood on Sunday evening before I found out I had to go pick up the parental unit in the Boondocks post-bedtime. As a girl, I spend a good maybe fourth? of my time planning ways in which to be unreasonable and then executing said plans. The next logical step, of course, being a descent into grumpiness when the rest of the world somehow fails to cater to my whims. Sunday was a classic case study in this behavior I have so expertly perfected over the years.

So I woke up after a brief nap that evening all ready to crankily embark on this journey to No Man's Land when, lo, just like that I realized I had a urinary tract infection. If you've never had a UTI I can tell you its just as sexy as it sounds. The description that it feels like you need to pee really bad all the time really doesn't accurately convey the horror you experience.

Long ago I had one doctor mention to me that there is actually an over the counter medicine you can get to minimize symptoms. Somehow, this is the greatest kept secret of all time as every girl I've ever relayed the product info to has fallen down and wept at my feet in gratitude over the knowledge that there might be some brief relief available for the living hell they must endure pre-doctor's appointment. Once, in fact, when convinced I was headed down UTInterstate, I popped a couple doses, drank approximately my entire body weight in gallons of cranberry juice and actually never had to visit the doctor at all.

I was convinced this time that with the combined effects of said medicine, the fact that my work environment is heavy on the cranberry juice, and my sheer strength of will, I could actually beat this thing on my own.

But no. After a day and a half of pills and sucking back the entirety of the Ballroom's cranberry juice stockpile, I knew at 4am this morning (naturally!) that there was no choice. Onward! To the doctor's!

I'm bad. I know, I know. Save for a few Student Health visits for sore throats and whatnot, I haven't actually been to a doctor since high school. Maybe the fact that I've been visiting my orthodontist something like every other week for the past year has convinced me that I’ve had more than my fill of attention from medical professionals. I never managed to make an appointment for anything under my last job's insurance and the coverage from my current employer only kicked in last week. The point being that I have no doctor and no frame of reference on who to call first.

So I started with the closest doctor that accepted my insurance. Her very helpful receptionist really seemed to understand what a pain it is to a1)have a UTI a2)cold call practices at 8:30 on a nasty Tuesday morning and discuss your bladder issues with strangers. No openings with doctor number one this week, but the receptionist reminded me this really was something I should take care of ASAP.

And with that I was off--her receptionist kindly provided two references and so I embarked on the 'Never Ending Quest to Try and Find a Medical Professional to Write Me A Prescription For Common Antibiotics to Cure My UTI’ of aught six. One office manager almost laughed at the fact that I might actually try to make an appointment for, gasp, that day, without a history with the doctor. How dare I think there might be a free ten minutes in someone important’s schedule?--this afternoon no less!

So after a good 45 minutes of calling (and oh, how I longed for the days of Student Health) and having First Med mentioned twice, I gave up the dream of seeing a physician I might actually visit again and hauled ass to get "physician care, without an appointment." And I mean really, deep down, I didn't actually want any semblance of a time frame for this whole ordeal. Its a lot more fun, a bit like playing the lotto, you know, to just waltz in with no idea what the queue is like, how many doctors there are, or when in the world (if ever) I might actually make it in to work.

And at First Med, interestingly, when you walk in you just announce to the receptionist why you're there, in a room a set up so this proclamation is entirely audible to everyone else waiting. And I mean, I'm fine with this, I am telling the interweb afterall, but it seems a little odd maybe, and certainly likely to spawn more that a few awkward moments daily. Maybe that's why they do it--keeps things fresh.

My actual interaction with a doctor took literally less than a minute, much as I anticipated. Total time spent finding a doctor, waiting at First Med, and attempting to pick up my prescription = 3 hours 16 minutes. And I say attempting because I did not actually emerge from CVS with antibiotics after all this time. No, First Med had neglected to call in the prescription, I learned after 50 minutes waiting. No, they were too busy they told me when I called back. Too busy also, it seems, to worry about accepting insurance information if not in card form. Because "Yes, yes I am insured...no, I don't have my card, coverage just kicked in last week and I haven't received it yet--but I've got all my plan info right here for you...but no, no card....so you can't accept that, huh. So I'll have to pay you full price for the minute of your doctor's time, huh. So that'll be $112 total, huh. Rrrrright."

Luckily, I can thank First Med and CVS for providing me ample time to compose this entire blog entry while waiting. Not only that, but I had more than enough time to skim People, Good Housekeeping, and Cosmo. It was from Cosmo that I learned that the antibiotics used to treat UTIs are pretty much the same as those used to treat bronchitis. Not that I wouldn't have gone and gotten my own prescription eventually…but let's just say someone that lives with me may or may not have gotten an antibiotic prescription for bronchitis this week and had I known what was really in store for me with this endeavor?...I so totally just would've stolen some of his.

Whole Lotta Nothing

There has been, really, nothing blog-worthy going on of late. I almost had a good story about witnessing Holmes having a playful romp in the yard with a bunny, but I didn't actually see that, Jeremy did, and I don't actually know if I believe him. But in the interest of providing half-assed content/pictures of cute things, there's this

Who's bigger?

Pixies or Wilco? Go.

Truman Sparks is the new Growing

My dependence on Ray is kind of a running joke. Not that I couldn't do stuff for myself, more like I just don't. Deep down, he probably really enjoys a sense of import gained from being "payer of the bills" and "sorter of the recycling" and "person who gets Beth a beer when she is too lazy to walk downstairs to the keg." I'm sure he will leave a comment to this effect in fact. I don't always whine to get something, per se, but it is funnier to imagine that all I do is lie about and moan "RAAAAaaaayyyyyy" every time I can't figure out how to work the teevee. Cause I totally don't do that. I swear.

But last night when Danny awoke me from my nap in search of Ray, that was just the way things went pretty much, with me croaking a drawn out call from my bed for my number one roomie. For once, I was giving Ray something, but tradition got the best of me and it still came packaged as a 'get me something' call.

It seems Growing had broken down en route to the show and we were suddenly faced with finding a new opener for Mogwai and hour and a half before doors. Truman Sparks had wanted to play this show since they heard it was booked, so in some kind of great twist of fate, they were finally getting their wish, and, for the purposes of this entry and my reputation as a good and kind human being (not just someone who bitches to her roommate all the time to do things for her), let's say I had some part to play in making this happen. Maybe?

In the hit reality show that sh/could stem from following the happenings at Bistro, Inc., this is the stuff that great episodes are made of.

The show went well, at least what I saw of it, although admittedly Mogwai were probably too big of an act for the room and the lights, sound, stage, etc., really didn't do them justice or allow for an optimal performance on their part. I didn't last the duration, however, because I am lame and also a had fall from a horse-induced headache so listening to ear-splitting music (except honestly it was that loud...or my ear plugs are awesome...or our sound system is shit) was kinda last on the list of things I wanted to do. I actually landed on my side then hit my head, and here is where I include the grautious bruise pictures

Last Night

Today