Medical Madness

My job is kinda whack. It's dull, repetitive, simple and pays poorly. To say that it is an "entry level position" is like describing The Phantom Of the Opera as a play about cock-blocking.

That's one of the reasons the Lazy Douchebag's lacklustre performance pissed me off so thoroughly. You don't have to try that hard to be good at what I do. Essentially, you just show up and do monkey work. It's not inspiring or exciting, but she agreed to do it, and at least she was a temp. She knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It's not like she had days and weeks and months of endless, soul-sucking boredom stretching out before her like a Saskatchewan highway...

Speaking of the Lazy Douchebag, S. and I were absolutely traumatized by our month with her. When our senior member returned earlier this week, S. and I regaled her with stories of L.D.'s incompetence and stupidity. (For example, on her last day in the mail room, L.D. was pulling claims. One of the requests had accidentally been printed off twice. She actually said to me, "Do I need to pull it twice?" Many of you who know me personally will be stunned and amazed that I did not reply, "Yes. I need you to pull it, photocopy it, replace it in the batch, pull it, photocopy it and put it back again." I confined myself to a long, confounded, "Nnnnnoooooooo...."). Unfortunately, we were overheard by L.D.'s mother, who works in J's department. So things in the mail room have been a little frosty this week. Oops. It was awkward, but I don't feel too terrible about it: it's not my fault, after all, that she raised a complete twatwaffle.

Anyway, I have heard of a new opening in another department at work and indicated to both Boss Lady and the head of the other department that I am anxious to try my hand at something else. Both of them were very supportive and encouraging, so I have that to look forward to in the New Year, after our return from Prince Edward Island.

For those of you who do not know, J and I will be spending New Years in Charlottetown, from whence she originally hails. There is a good possibility that we will actually ring in the New Year at the Legion (I've never actually been to a Legion!), in which case I might moon the webcam again. (Yes, I've done it before). If I do, I will let you all know and post the url here with an approximate time, so you can tune in to see the big event.

I'm also hoping to patronize the Pissy Pants Club. That's not it's real name, but it is a delapidated old trailer where the pensioners go on cheque day around noon and sit around drinking shitty maritime beeer until they piss themselves. I am under strict orders from my sister to get LOTS of pictures.

Oh, and I've been promised a trip to the bootleggers, too, so I might just get arrested on this trip.

On the down side, there is likely to be some kind of interaction with Skippy, since the little jerkoff lives there. I will be certain to keep you posted about what happens when Angry Dyke meets Junior Douchebag. If he has any sense at all, he will stay well away from his mother and I. This might be a stretch for him, so be prepared.

Anyway, my original purpose in blogging tonight (and how I've wandered off the path!) was to recount some of the few perks of my job. One of those perks is that I get to see a lot of really goofy and unusual names from people immigrating to our great nation, and those who provide them with health care. For example, I think it is law in Sri Lanka that everyone's name has to have a minimum of 16 syllables and use every letter of the alphabet at least once. There are no Bobs in Sri Lanka, unless it is a truncated version of Bobaramalamdamwhoopdefuckingdoo. Or whatever.

Other twacked out names? There is a health care provider in Canada named "Dat Dang Duong". I have a lot of fun with that one, let me tell you. I can often be heard to remark, "Dat Dang Duong sent me another health claim! Can you imagine? Who does Dat Dang Duong think he is?" Etcetera etcetera ad infinitum.

In Quebec, we have a Dr. Schlomo Grynspan. What do you figure his ethnic heritage is? Prizes for the most accurate guess!

Another thing I get to do is read some of the medical complaints. The best ones--for me anyway, and this will come as no surprize to many of you, kids--are the ones involving rectums and colons and bums. I read one medical report about some dude who had a history of hemmorrhoidectomy (an operation to remove your 'rrhoids, which cannot be comfortable, yo), and was back at the doctor's complaining about constipation and pain on the toilet. The physician counseled the man to avoid "straining at stool", encouraged him to drink more water and eat more fibre and finally, to spend no more than ten minutes on the crapper. You'd think that after surgery to clip the varicose veins on yer poop chute the first time, you'd avoid the behaviours that landed you there in the first place. But apparently not, which leads me to the conclusion that on some level, Buddy likes that kind of discomfort.

Call me crazy.

I also find medical terminology really funny sometimes. Tell me the truth: doesn't "transvaginal ultrasound" sound like a high-speed train? Seriously! "Offering sixteen runs between Krackow and Budapest daily, the Transvaginal Ultrasound is a convenient, economical and efficient way to explore Eastern Europe!"