Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is with certain people who use bathroom sinks. You know who you are. You use bathroom sinks in your home and in public places to brush your teeth. This may sound trivial but it is not. When brushing your teeth you spit out gobs of toothpaste that then stick (like super glue) to the sides and sometimes the edge of the sink. Occasionally there is a little green or brown gunk stuck with the mess. I am assuming the brown gunk is from your excess chewing tabacky that you keep stuck inside your mouth. That's gross and you smell like smoke, actually you stink but no one will ever tell you. The green glob stuck in the toothpaste stuff is probably drips from your infected nasal passages. This is also extremely gross to look at so early in the morning.
My advice to you - clean out the sink when you are done scrubbing your ivory whites. Do not leave that tell tale toothpaste scum for everyone else to look at. Who knows what kind of germs are harbored in that mass of repulsive goop. Surely you don't do this intentionally. Or do you? I will not clean up after you.
Sloberly,
Mr. Pid
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Daily Gripe
Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is with the packaging of medicine. I have wasted my precious time sitting in the doctor's office waiting to be called for my scheduled appointment. Then, I am losing more of my precious time waiting for a prescription to be filled. Now, the last battle to be fought is opening the darn packaging to get to the medicine. The miracle pills that should be curing me are pushing me over the edge closer to an anxiety attack.
The clever packaging has five separate compartments for the tiny little pills. Getting these compartments open is like breaking into Fort Knox. The directions state to gently push the pill through the foil. Have you ever tried to push a boulder up a mountain using a toothpick? It cannot be accomplished.
I have resorted to cutting open each individual compartment trying to get the little miracle pill. I even have difficulty trying to cut these open with a sharp pair of scissors. It's like cutting through strips of metal. These are beyond child proof. At last I cut open the super strength package and the tiny little pill flies high in the air, falls fast and slides beneath the refrigerator. Thank goodness the fridge is on wheels and can be removed with little effort. My blood pressure is most likely off the chart at this point in time. I find the little white pill hiding in a dark pile of dust bunnies. That's got to be germ free. Once again my time is being wasted and all I want to do is get over this bug.
Sincerly sick,
Mr. Pid
The clever packaging has five separate compartments for the tiny little pills. Getting these compartments open is like breaking into Fort Knox. The directions state to gently push the pill through the foil. Have you ever tried to push a boulder up a mountain using a toothpick? It cannot be accomplished.
I have resorted to cutting open each individual compartment trying to get the little miracle pill. I even have difficulty trying to cut these open with a sharp pair of scissors. It's like cutting through strips of metal. These are beyond child proof. At last I cut open the super strength package and the tiny little pill flies high in the air, falls fast and slides beneath the refrigerator. Thank goodness the fridge is on wheels and can be removed with little effort. My blood pressure is most likely off the chart at this point in time. I find the little white pill hiding in a dark pile of dust bunnies. That's got to be germ free. Once again my time is being wasted and all I want to do is get over this bug.
Sincerly sick,
Mr. Pid
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Daily Gripe
Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is with pharmacies. I am at my doctors office and he writes me a prescription and he sends it directly to my pharmacy. What a grand solution to the prescription issue. I am so impressed and we have saved yet another tree or perhaps a forest. I'm feeling quite lousy but I drive straight to my pharmacy - Publix. This drive takes about 25 minutes.
I step through the automatic doors hop on the scales, frown and move over to the blood pressure station. I'm still alive. I walk with confidence right to the 'pick-up' window. I give them my name and smile. The gruff pharmacist (not one of my favorites at this location) grumbles they do not have my prescription. I begin with, "My doctor sent it over through the Internet."
The not so friendly pharmacist says, "Oh I haven't looked at it."
Well, if this is supposed to streamline getting your medicine it does not work. Mr. Unpersonality looks up the information. "Be about 30 minutes," he grumbles.
It always takes about 30 minutes no matter what time or what day you drop off a prescription. There never seems to be anyone waiting desperately for their drugs but it is always 30 minutes. This must be a pharmacy standard that the public is not familiar with. I am too sick to sit again and wait for my illness curing pills.
I drive home to lie on the couch still feeling like a horse whipped puppy and wait till my prescription is filled. I am not happy with this situation that should work in a timely manner. Here I am looking at progress face to face and it's not a pretty sight.
Still sickly,
Mr. Pid
I step through the automatic doors hop on the scales, frown and move over to the blood pressure station. I'm still alive. I walk with confidence right to the 'pick-up' window. I give them my name and smile. The gruff pharmacist (not one of my favorites at this location) grumbles they do not have my prescription. I begin with, "My doctor sent it over through the Internet."
The not so friendly pharmacist says, "Oh I haven't looked at it."
Well, if this is supposed to streamline getting your medicine it does not work. Mr. Unpersonality looks up the information. "Be about 30 minutes," he grumbles.
It always takes about 30 minutes no matter what time or what day you drop off a prescription. There never seems to be anyone waiting desperately for their drugs but it is always 30 minutes. This must be a pharmacy standard that the public is not familiar with. I am too sick to sit again and wait for my illness curing pills.
I drive home to lie on the couch still feeling like a horse whipped puppy and wait till my prescription is filled. I am not happy with this situation that should work in a timely manner. Here I am looking at progress face to face and it's not a pretty sight.
Still sickly,
Mr. Pid
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Daily Gripe
Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is with doctors and scheduled appointments. I am constantly reminded by my doctors office about being on time for my appointment and canceling 24 hours in advance. If this time issue is so important why do you keep me stuck in limbo in the waiting room for 30 minutes. Can I send you a notice about my appointment being on time. Probably not! Why is it so utterly important to be there on time and then sit and wait?
After (30 min.) being totally bored and feeling like death warmed over with the person next to me hacking and coughing in my space my name is called. I am then escorted back to the exam room to sit and twiddle my thumbs for at least another 10 minutes before nurse Ratchett comes in to take my vitals. She probably wants to make sure I did not die in the waiting room. She takes my entire life's history even though she has done it numerous times in the past. She pokes and prods and says ever so sweetly, "The doctor will be right in."
What does 'right in' really mean? I sit for at least 15-20 minutes on the sterile, noisy, slippery white paper covered in a flimsy paper gown with the opening in the back freezing nearly to death. In walks the white knight to cure my ills. Five minutes later I am paying my bill. Then - I am off to the pharmacy and that is another rant.
Sickly,
Mr. Pid
After (30 min.) being totally bored and feeling like death warmed over with the person next to me hacking and coughing in my space my name is called. I am then escorted back to the exam room to sit and twiddle my thumbs for at least another 10 minutes before nurse Ratchett comes in to take my vitals. She probably wants to make sure I did not die in the waiting room. She takes my entire life's history even though she has done it numerous times in the past. She pokes and prods and says ever so sweetly, "The doctor will be right in."
What does 'right in' really mean? I sit for at least 15-20 minutes on the sterile, noisy, slippery white paper covered in a flimsy paper gown with the opening in the back freezing nearly to death. In walks the white knight to cure my ills. Five minutes later I am paying my bill. Then - I am off to the pharmacy and that is another rant.
Sickly,
Mr. Pid
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