Fun with MD's

Mr. Weasel and I should never be allowed in public together. We simply do not know how to behave. It doesn't matter how mundane the venue, we are like immature teenagers. We are the most inappropriate people that you would ever want to invite to your house for a cocktail party(but you would want to invite us).

This brings me to yesterday. We had made a cute "his and her" Doctor appointment. MW has been seeing this doctor for a while now. I had been avoiding anything to do with doctors for a few years. Anywho....we were going together so that we could start the Chantix quit smoking program together(yeah yeah, get over it).

I need a sense of humor in a Doctor. I can't stand Mr or Mrs Clinical Can't Crack A Smile. Be a real person damnit. MW assured me that I would like this guy.

So we are sitting in the waiting room, along with Smallest Weasel(none of you offered to babysit) and the geriatric set. It was like we were hitting the early bird dinner special. We are acting goofy and stupid as usual. None of this waiting patiently and quiet nonsense. We don't believe in decorum. MW pops a jolly rancher, as provided at the front desk, into his mouth and decides to 'make a basket' with the wrapper into my cleavage. Nothin' but net! The funny part was Mr. 40 yrs past prime across the room saw the whole thing and didn't need to take his Viagra that afternoon.

Soon we are called back. We both have to do the scale thing. MW makes a comment about the unpleasant facial expression expression I made when taking that step up. After that we sit and wait in the room, making stupid juvenile comments, making our own fun.

Doctor Straightman Funny Pants comes in, gives MW the once over and he's done. My turn.
MD: "How much do you drink?
Me: How much are you offering? I paid the cover. "about a case a week."
MD: Well only one a day is recommended for women, 2 a day for men.
Me: That's sexist!
MD: Yeah it is, but it's based on body weight.
Me: So you would encourage me to gain about 200 lbs.
MD: Yes.
Me: Okay, I can do that.
MD: You do know the definition of an alcoholic...Anyone who drinks more than you do. I'll give you 2 a day, after that it starts messing with your liver and heart. But You can't save them up for Saturday and have 14. Have the 2 or lose them.
Me: this is a sick joke, where's the hidden camera? This guy thinks he's a funny man. "alrighty then".
Smallest Weasel: "I have to go potty"
MW: I'll take her.
Me: woohoo!
MW and Smallest Weasel exit.
MD: Anything you want to tell me while he's gone?
Me: I used to be a man.
MD: who nearly falls of his stool. "I'll never tell".
enter MW and Smallest Weasel
MD: I'll start you on Chantix now, so you can do this together. But I want you back in a month for the full gown treatment. He can come back in 3 months.
Me: I was just kidding about the man thing.
MD: I know, but your overdue for an entire workup.
MW: He just wants to get to know better, without me around.

So we leave and MW gets to laugh at me about the 2 beer thing.
I may just wear a prom gown to my next appointment.

P.S. Over at Jenny's Happy Life there is a fantabulous giveaway that belongs to me. Check it out and drool, but it will be mine.

What Happens In Vegas.............

I'm back and Vegas is still standing, even if I'm not.

The Wedding was great. The bride was beautiful. The people were fun and the mood festive. And we all have a few good stories for years to come to bring home with us.

Thursday night we ventured out as a group to hit the strip. Seeking some music and drinks we headed from our hotel, The Flamingo, over to Bellagio . Upon entering the "cool" lounge their, we found it was full and were sent away with the distinct impression that we were too old and not quite hip enough to hang out in this joint. But they were kind enough to direct us to "Caramel", the club on the other side of the casino floor that would be much more what we were hoping for anyway. The gentleman working the door at Caramel also sent us away. The grooms brother and the brides brother were both wearing sandals, this is a capital offense in Vegas night clubs, -not cool enough for this place either. Once again we were directed 'just across the way' to a lounge with an 80's cover band and dance floor, perfect. We enter to find that we are the youngest people in here by at least 25 years. The funny part was that we were really enjoying the band and this is where we fit in. We didn't stay for more than an hour. We couldn't at those drink prices. We were off again. This time back across the street to Margaritaville. Great band, younger crowd, more affordable(slightly). Jimmy Buffet has no hang-ups about sandals.

The next morning we all dressed and primped for the wedding. We had to search through the hotel to find the right exit where the Limo was waiting. The super stretch was supposed to be able to accommodate 12, however at 9 people we were sardined in. Our driver should not be working in a service industry. He was most unpleasant and did not seem to enjoy his chosen profession. Not even a smile and congratulations for the bride and groom. However, he did drive just fine.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Well there was one hitch, but that was the point of being there.

On the way back to the hotel the grooms brother decided that it would be a good idea to lean 1/3 of his body out the window and wave at the woman driving next to us, with a state trooper behind us. Just for the record this was not a good idea. We were given a warning in the form of a quick flash of the lights and siren. That would be enough for most people, not for this guy. A few moments later while the Trooper was passing on our left, he blew a kiss at the trooper. Not having much in the way of a sense of humor, the Limo was now pulled over. No ticket issued, but a stern warning about how going to jail would put a crimp in the day.

Luckily, the rest of the day was fun and smooth. We had dinner and cake. Some went off for naps to rest up for the night ahead. I hit the tables for a while and had a blast. Black Jack players are pretty typically a fun nice group. We had some fun and entertaining dealers and a lot of laughter. Later is was back out as a group for more music and dancing.

Saturday was definitely time for some downtime poolside. I was relaxed and feeling great. We were all having fun, watching the water volleyball game when I hit a slick spot on the pool deck. My feet came flying out from under me and I crashed full force onto the concrete flat on my back. I was given a towel an icepack and a Coors Light. I received a nasty headache and blinding pain that ended my day.

I filled out an incident report in the security offices. The take the report in the infamous 'back room'. And that is exactly what it is. A small interrogation room with a table, 2 chairs and a camera. The security officer who took the report had about as much social skill as the Limo driver, polite, but barely.

Sunday was time to head for the airport. Ibuprofen was not cutting it and I was not looking forward to a 4 hour flight in coach. Of course the flight was delayed and overbooked. Of course I am assigned the 'middle seat'. And of course the drink of the guy sitting next to me spills into my lap and I get to sit in Jack and Coke on the rocks for 3 hours.

At 1:30 a.m. I was grateful to be home in my own bed. At 7:30 a.m. I reached for more ibuprofen and am calling the doctor today for an appointment.

So to recap: I got 'backroomed' at the Flamingo and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt.

So, Who's Prepared For Me To Share Too Much?

Being a member of the estrogen club I have the yearly honor of a trip to the OB/GYN. *don't stop reading here fellas, this actually goes some where good*. For those of you not in the club, let me explain some of the high points that we women look forward to.

First off, at home we take extra care with grooming and maintenance. We select our nicest undergarments and socks (socks being the only item of clothing that the Dr. will actually see) and apply our make-up with extreme care. This ritual perplexes Hubby.

After a prolonged stop in the waiting room (where there is an unspoken agreement not to make eye contact) a nurse calls you back to make you step on a scale, take vitals, and ask you questions that you would make a Marine blush. She hands you a small cup and sends you to go tinkle in it. You head to the restroom and attempt this stunt without getting it all over your hands. When you return to the exam room the nurse has laid out for you a thin paper table cloth and instructs you to strip down to your socks. She leaves and you wait on the tissue paper covered exam table, with your butt sweating from nerves, for what seems like an hour in the drafty exam room covered in nothing except a table cloth waiting for/dreading the main event where the Dr. comes in and almost immediately becomes more intimate with you than your spouse. All the while acting like this is no big deal and you do this as often as he does. You barely speak and then distract yourself by counting ceiling tiles. This is the worst part. You are just a slab of meat and play along. Well that's not my style. I've never been the one to ignore the elephant in the room.

Still with me guys????? Don't wimp out now.

I have been seeing this particular Dr. for a few years and couple and kids. So luckily there is a level of comfort in the Dr/patient relationship. He and I have been in this position many times before. But, this experience still sucks.

So, on my last humiliating check-up I was left waiting sweaty, naked and chilled for quite some time. This gives you plenty of time to think really stupid thoughts. When he finally does the knock and enter (never understood that) we do the cursory hellos. I then mention the draft in response to "How are you doing?". I continue speaking as he gets comfortable and pulls out the stirrups and I suggest that he should really supply a wine and cheese tray in the waiting room. "Why is that?" he asks as he gently pulls me down by the thighs into position (this part reads like porn, eh?). My response.................."Because then I could say, at least you bought me a drink first!"
He damn near fell off his his little stool.

Hope it was worth it fellas!