Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

More decent news, and other stuff.

We have a Thursday appointment to deal with timprov's health stuff as best we can, so that's a relief.

I think I will even be able to eat dinner. I managed soup for lunch. Last night was not my best night ever, and when I can't sleep well (sinus pain and nightmares), I often find it difficult to eat also. If I can eat it, I get good dessert, because a medical person has stuck things inside my body, and that's the rule: you get what you want for dessert when they put things in your body. This is not the type of examination I had in mind when I made this rule, but it's still a good general rule.

I'm still giggling about the time I invoked this rule in Omaha, a few weeks before markgritter's and my wedding, and scottjames and I couldn't find chocolate malts because our usual place was closed. The Perkins people let us order them and then said, "Oh, we're out of malt powder, is a shake all right?" And I said, "No. Thanks anyway," and got up and left. And the expressions on their faces! Back me up here, scottjames: they looked very funny. I think most waitbeings are used to customers sighing, maybe even getting annoyed and docking their tip, but not just getting up and leaving if they can't get what they want. But we weren't there for anything else, just malts. I don't see why I should have a shake when what I want is a malt. It's not like it's nutritious, for heaven's sake. Never eat bad dessert. It's just pointless.

You know what expression is annoying me lately? "X doesn't suffer fools gladly." Like the rest of us say, "Oh, look! A fool! How gladly I shall suffer it! I shall leap and cavort in joy at the suffering of this fool!" The people in my life who use this expression are excusing someone who refuses to behave with rudimentary politeness and who assumes that everyone she deals with will be a fool. I just want to say, "I don't either; that's why X and I are no longer speaking."

Also: if you are on a one-lane on-ramp behind me, and there is a big-ass semi going 30 mph down the on-ramp in front of me, climbing my bumper and weaving back and forth in the lane (what? are you going to pass me on the one-lane on-ramp?) will do neither of us any good. Big-ass semi. It's not like you can't see it from your big-ass SUV; my Saturn is not massive enough to block your view of the semi right in front of me. Whatever important thing you just have to do five minutes ago will happen much faster if the semi driver does not tip the semi over on this clover leaf, mmmmkay? And she knows how to drive the thing much better than we do, so back off.

Also: I hate synopses.
Tags: sick and wrong, so juicy sweeeeet, social fail, timprov
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