My Pussy Hurts . . . Part Deux

     Hi, peeps. This is a follow-up to my post on May 16th. Sorry it took me so long to do so, but what can I say? Shit happens. Or, in my case, potential precancerous cells on my cervix -- whoo hoo! So, after my summer pap (which became a colposcopy AND a biopsy during the same freakin' visit), my gyno referred me to another lovely pussy doc for a simple procedure/surgery to mutilate yet more of my lady parts. Oh, I guess I failed to mention that this would end up being my second LEEP in about 6 or so years?

     Not really much else to say during the lead-in, but I had the surgery done at a hospital this time. My experience with my prior surgery was rather shitty because I had what I thought was a simple and routine procedure done in a clinic setting, but I had to be transported via ambulance to a nearby hospital due to a complication. I was told that it was actually quite common, but it still sucked. This time around, I am 2 days post-op and I feel like I will never pee right again because I'm hurting so bad. The over-the-counter pill bottle is helping some, but if the so-called "medical professional" with all her years of schooling would have actually written the dosage amount on my lovely narcotic prescription pad, I'd probably be feeling a lot less stabbing pains in my vajay-jay right about now! I'm hoping the pharmacy calls tomorrow . . .

     I guess the moral of this lovely story is if you're smart, you'll remain celibate! Haha, well, maybe not that drastic, but at least take the appropriate precautions -- like these girls did!

Suck My (Base)Balls!!!

     So . . . I find out via Facebook that the Tigers (University of Memphis baseball) are giving away free tickets for the next 3 games (today, tomorrow and Saturday). I sent in my email approximately 3 minutes after the post was up, stating that I would like a pair for Saturday if I was selected. I was notified about an hour later that I did not win one of the 8 pairs, but that they "would still love to have me in attendance at one of the games this weekend." So close, yet so far. Damn! At least I gave it a shot.

My Pussy Hurts . . .

     I have the wonderful honor of having my annual MPH appointment with a new doctor this week. Actually, she isn't even an "M.D;" she is a "nurse practitioner." I have been told that a registered N.P. can do anything a doctor can do, except the surgical removal of hemorrhoids. No, only kidding. An N.P. can do anything but surgery in general. Well, maybe the hemorrhoid removal was a bad example, seeing as how it would be quite weird to experience hemorrhoidalesque activity in one's vaginal region anyhow.

     Okay, getting off topic here. My point of bitch this post is that I do not like these things, never have. Shouldn't I ask her to buy me a drink before I allow some stranger to stick her fingers up my twat?!?! Seeing a new medical professional is hard enough, but if I had better insurance, then perhaps I would still be seeing the same doctor I was several years ago! If she's going to violate me with her hands, I feel as if the rest of her staff is potentially anal probing me. Seriously! Have you seen the questions they ask you on the damn new patient forms??? Age of first menstruation? How many sex partners? Safe sex every time? Do you swallow? (Okay, okay, I made that last one up, but still . . . ) I forgot his name, but it reminds me of the drugged-out black guy in that viral video: "Hide your husbands, hide your wives, 'cuz they be rapin' errbody out here." That's the way I feel when I have this screening done. I'm just glad that a lady is performing this lovely service. I know she can't drug and impregnate me. God, I watch too many MPH movies . . .

    

Where My Fu*king Benefits Is?!?!

     If I was a taxpayer, I'd be pissed! I go to the grocery store this evening (let's just say "Sprawl Cart" for the sake of privacy here), do my shopping, loading my cart with everything I need. I have my plan of action all laid out: I will be using cash money for a toaster, EBT card for my food, and the remaining balance to be debited out of my checking account, to which the government sends me a lovely Social Security benefit check each month.

     Here is the wonderful climax of this episode's bitching . . . I get to the checkout line, load all of my stuff on the conveyer belt and the cashier gives me a total. I explain that I want to do $20 cash for a toaster, pay for the food with my EBT card and that the rest would be deducted from checking account. She says no problem. I scan the EBT card first and, surprise to me, it doesn't go through. That's got me mildly pissed at this point. I tell her to run my debit card through. Here comes the point where I am beyond pissed -- she says my damn debit card had been declined for insufficient funds! What the hell?!?! 

     So, I am left with only one other option -- a credit card. Now, why does a chick on Food Stamps AND a disability check even HAVE a credit card??? Stupidity? No, just lucky, I guess. I activated the account when I still held employment. (Which would make for a fantastic "Bitching" episode for another day. I have quite a story behind that one!) I am going to blame Obama for this one!

Your vs. You're

     Okay, listen up, peeps . . . let's go back to basics for a minute. I understand that a lot of you out there may be "schooled" in what they often refer to as the "txt spk," but I am not. Call me snobbish or whatever, but when I text, email, chat, etc., I will write out words such as "people," ""you," "omg," "wtf," and so on and so forth.
     Which brings me to my title. Homophones are words that sound alike but are spelled differently. "Your" is a possessive (i.e. showing ownership, "your book"), whereas "you're" is a contraction ("you are"). So, let me leave you with this word of advice . . . the next time you confuse your words , I think you need to get your shit together before you're made to look any more foolish!!!

I'm Bitching!

Shit fuck piss Damn! Hell!