Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Drug Wars

I don't really have any cohesive topic to discuss this evening, so I'm just going to tell you a short vignette about something humorous that I encountered today.

So, in October I had to have my annual TB test for work. I wasn't able to get an appointment with my primary physician for several days, so I decided to head over to the Walgreens Take Care clinic to have the test done. So anyway, once I got my results I faxed them over to our main office so they could have them on file. I called them to make sure they got the fax, and they did. Done and done, right?

No, it never is, is it?

About a week ago, I got a call from our main office letting me know that they needed a copy of my TB test results because they had lost the original that I'd sent them months ago. They said it was very important because the office was being audited by the state and they needed to have all their ducks in a row. Okay, no problem... except that upon entering my mid 20's I applied for my AARP card and became completely cynical and paranoid.

So, what does this mean for my TB test results? Well, what it means is that after receiving confirmation that the office had received my fax, the TB test results were immediately shredded.

See, since I am a crazy, paranoid, tinfoil hat-wearing senior citizen, I now take care to shred every single scrap of paper that may have any, any personal information on it. TB tests, receipts, ALL MAIL with my name on it - not just credit card pre-approval offers or bank statements - ALL of it. I even use permanent marker to black out the information on my prescription bottles - my name, my address, my physician's name, the prescription name and number, even the phone number and address of the Walgreens I get my prescriptions from. I don't know who would make use of any of this information, I just know that I do NOT want them to have it.

Okay, so I know the original copy I had was gone, so that meant I had to drive over to the Walgreens clinic that administered my TB test to have another copy printed. So, I got in the car and drove myself on over to the clinic, but unfortunately in order to even talk to a nurse, I had to use their computer system to sign myself in and wait for my name to be called. There were maybe 2 people ahead of me in the system, so while waiting I perused the aisle I was in. Over the counter pharmaceuticals - your usual cold medications, antihistamines, first aid materials, thermometers, and... drug tests.

Maybe I'm naive and/or sheltered, but I didn't know they sold drug tests in pharmacies. I assumed you could buy one online, you can buy anything online. Link jacked from Miss Nik's blog.

So, there they are. The drug tests. They have ones for specific drugs: coke, marijuana, etc. and they have ones that test for multiple drugs, including: cocaine, marijuana, meth, ecstasy... umm... ludes? I'm not even sure if people do ludes anymore, I'm just taking names of drugs from the game "Drug Wars," now.

C'mon, you had a TI-83 and you played it in pre-Algebra, too. Admit it.

So I look at the one for cocaine... and there is one left. Weird, this is a pretty decent neighborhood, who knew there would be so many people looking for cocaine drug tests... oh, well.

And then I look at the slot above the tag marked "Drug Test: Marijuana." It's empty. Lot's of pot-heads in Old Town apparently, heh.

Final thought - My boss lives in Old Town. I bet she bought out the entire stock of the Ganj tests at Walgreens.

Ok, it's Dear Diary time once again. Ready? Break!


God, I hate my stepfather P so much! O.k. I took a box of Frosted Mini Wheats to draw the box. O.K. so he says "Don't eat those upstairs." And I ignore him cause I don't want to get into a fight. So I go upstairs to my room. He comes upstairs just as I'm going to change my clothes. So he comes barging into my room without knocking like a raving madman takes the box away from me and starts ranting and Raving and telling me what a brat I am so finally I pushed him out of my room and yell "Shut up you Asshole!" Then I got out my dictionary and Highlited the meaning of privacy and showed it to him and he said I was acting like my mom. So I told him to shut up. I hate him so, so, so, so much. Words can't even describe how much I hate him. I wish he would die. I don't know about you but I don't exactly like skanky old men watching me change my clothes. O.K. I'm gonna go now I'll see ya later. Bye!

So, reading this post in the here and now I actually feel pretty bad about it. I was definitely going through that pre-teen "I know everything and adults know jack shit" phase. I was ornery, snotty, constantly rolling my eyes, scoffing at everything my parents said. In short, I was a short bitch. So yeah, I get why I wrote this post, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel a bit guilty for calling my step-dad, who is genuinely a good person an asshole, a skanky old man, and for saying that I hate him and that I wished he would die. I never say that about someone, because as much as someone can suck, I don't wish death on others. It's bad karma. 

Even in the midst of this angsty diary entry, there is a bit of humor... the fact that I took out a dictionary and highlited the word "privacy" and gave it to him? Well as Ms. "It's Britney, bitch" Spears would say, "That is just so typically me." I've toned it down a bit since then, but sadly that's something I could see myself doing even now, haha. I guess old habits die hard.

So as not to end on such a craptastic note, I'm gonna go ahead and treat you all to another entry.

November, 17, 1995

[In pencil] Okay I've cooled down since my last entry. But right now I'm on cloud nine. Sigh. Finally.
[In blue ink] He loves me! Zachary Smith! He loves me. I know because I asked the Ouija board and on Dec. 03, 1995 (16 days from now hes going to tell me he loves me, French kiss me, and ask me on a date. Woo, hoo!
[In green ink] I'm so happy. Anyway that is basically what I wrote to you about. Oh, by the way in case you're wondering first I wrote with pencil, then blue pen and now green pen. Anyway I'll be seein ya soon! Ciao. Bye Bye Yipee Kiay Kio! Woohoo!  Bye!

Hahaha. I barely know where to start. Let's start with my multiple writing utensil choice for this entry? It's obvious just by looking at it, that the entry is written in pencil, blue pen, then green pen, and yet I still feel the need to clarify for the reader.

And the proof that Zachary Smith finally loves me? The Ouija board? Awesome. I actually remember my Ouija board and asking the Ouija board about when Zachary Smith would tell me he loves me. Then I got scared of the Ouija board and hid it underneath my dresser.

And then about 13 years later (Go ahead, do the math... I was 25, okay? 25!)  I read something online about Ouija boards and spirit/demonic possessions associated with the use of Ouija boards and I got so scared that I couldn't sleep for a few days. And I didn't even own a Ouija board. Shut up.

Let's see how this whole Ouija board, Zachary Smith crush thing works out for me in the next several posts... stay tuned!


Anonymous said...

Ok, so I need some clarification when you highlighted the word privacy and he told you you were acting like your mother - is it because your mother was always asking him for privacy too or did she just like to highlight things?

I didn't know anybody still used ouija boards in 1995 - I thought they were an 80s thing, didn't ouija boards get replaced in the 90s by those fortune teller things every girl on the face of the earth made out of a piece of notebook paper...I feel like they were much more advanced.

By the way - AARP actually sent me a membership form in the mail - I'm 29.

Nashe^ said...

Oh hmm... There was a lot of hype about this ouija board thing while I was younger too. Thankfully I was never that interested. ^^

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