I got more pricks than A Porn Star also here's a pic of my beaver.

Ok this shit is getting old in a super fast way.

As most of you know on the 10th I drove myself to the E.R. like a big twatwaffle because I was having a heart attack. I never had a heart attack  before and since I wasn't in a junk yard, and didn't have chest pains to be fair I wasn't 100% sure it was indeed a heart attack.

The Military in true fashion  had 1 dude that finished the last couple weeks of school and he was playing golf or having an affair or whatever so they sent me to the civilian equivalent to a Gold fish Doctor where they cathed my heart on my daughter's 22nd birthday. I was awake for the beginning of the heart cath and I don't really recommend that for anyone except maybe a couple of those hyena bitches from "The View",
Click here and read - A nut in the Hand
anyway I wrote about it here, because I grabbed the Italian GoldFish Doctor by the nutsack.. He prescribed a medicine and we pretty much left thinking I had dodge another bullet and was rocking the heart with the kick butt sexy brain and it was all just gravy. Went to daughters grad, worked overtime trying to make up some funds, because MENSA man can't balance a budget any more than he can shave hair off a moldy dish he leaves laying in the sink for 3 days. Then went and watched the prince rock his county baseball tournament. Each day I got more and more tired. The fatigue was kicking my butt. But my days needed to be longer, going from 17- 19 to 21 hours. I had to catch up, I was becoming slower so my days had to become longer. I was tearing it up like a herd of turtles.

Ok actually I couldn't take more than 10 steps without panting like a freaking fat hog who just ran a 10 k with a hoho on a stick in front of her face. I saw my PCM ( which means Primary Care Physician even when they aren't always physicians, and most of the time they don't really care. I expressed to her like 15 times that I was extremely exhausted and it was getting worse, and I was worried. But my nearly a Doctor if she went to school for 10 more years and was over 17 years old  said that's what happens with stress ( wtf you turd?)  so I guess I am ok right? The only stress I have is the inability to communicate with you jackholes.

Long story short between they screwed up meds, and me trying to catch up from the time out from the heart attack ( which I called an event last week so as to play it down)  and the "almost nearly a doctor" blowing me off,  I almost nearly ate dirt in a permanent  fashion this past weekend.

Thankfully the droid was home.  I took a nap, ( rarely happens)  on Saturday because I am in a state of constant exhaustion.  I woke up with back pain. ONLY.  However,  since I have been in a state of permanent exhaustion he pulled the 'FUCK THIS" card,  and took me to the Emergency room.

They scooted me straight back to the E.R. where my first labs and EKG came back awesome but they admitted me because it can take up to 12 hours for the Troponin ( or whatever enzime shows in your blood that you had the heart attack) to show up.  Mind you neither time did I have chest pains.
Click here So you don't die, read this almost PSA by me  This time I didn't even have the jaw pain or sweats, or shakies, or dizzies, or nothing.  But the Droid was here, and he doesn't feel like wearing a tie to a funeral or cooking for the prince until he's 18 if I die so he is protecting his investment so he made me go.

They admitted me, and requested my records from the other civilian/ Goldfish hospital/doctor/popped nut Italian hottie guy.

Come to find out,  it   I win the bet against the Droid.  I do have a freak heart.  So nee nur.   Unfortunately it's  nearly as jacked up as my brain, which is as whiggidy whack as my attitude.  I have super small aterieries, and  some type of spasm issue which I guess makes me a spaz.

INSERT WORD AWESOME HERE- ___________________________________--
Because I am actually a freaking spaz.

The medicine they gave me the Goldfish Dr messed up and shouldn't have given me because I have low BP and low heart rate and dude gave me stuff to lower it.  That will teach me to pop a Dr's nut YO.   Yeah he may have been sitting on frozen peas but I kept eating tile flooring and stuff. Then the military Docs kept blowing me off, you know cause,  I don't look or act sick.  Apparently the hospital is based on theatrical abilities not medical issues.

So I spent my weekend in the Military hospital finding out the Goldfish people knew my heart was 47 levels of jacked up,  yet they did nothing other than give me a medicine that could have killed me.  The PCM ( nearly almost a real doctor who is looking forward to being able to vote next year and drink in a couple years)  blew me and my complaints off even though she was handed the medicine.

My care is now handed over to a team of actual Dr's in Internal Medicine and Genetics.   My bloodwork was drawn every 2 hours, I am on 5 new medicines which brings my daily total to 23.  This time I am actually going to listen and be on bed rest. Because in the grand scheme of things I would rather be dead broke then just dead. I have been digging in the couch cushions broke before. Hell I have been, "wish I owned a couch!" broke before, so it's no biggie. Alive is so much more cool. I spent 2 years of my life adjusting to this crazy brain crap and    yesterday I have coronary artery  disease, some blockages, some spasms, some super small arteries, I think they found out that the smurfs butt rocking Gargamel live in my heart who knows.


Your tweets, dm's, facebook posts, and emails mean a LOT.  Honestly I adore all of you crazy folks.
I have just as much hair on the dishes in my sink as I do on my floors. I am not spending much time on facebook or twitter.  I miss everyone but I really want to dance at my daughters wedding one day,  hold my yet to be dreamt up grandchildren and watch the prince who is 10 graduate.  Those things are far off in the future and damn it I intend to be here.   They say this shortens my life, whatever, they told my dad in 1987 he had 6  months.

So the entire " lifes a journey not a job thing,  take it serious folks,  rock every day, and who gives a crap if your socks don't match, or you spilled that lunch down the front of your shirt.  Rock it !


xo

PEACH OUT

**  Due to popular demand to see my 1/2 shave monkey/ beaver/groin   just like the 80's in Daytona totally free of charge.   These bruises were just from the first hospital stay.  honestly now I look even more like Violet Beauregaurde,  it's very sexy.   Very Very Sexy.

Don't you wish your Beaver was hot like me.  doncha, doncha..

A little salt with that?

When dinosaurs roamed the earth, I went to this place called school.  Yes it's true my last 2 years of High School I skipped more than I attended but that's what happens when you place a high school close enough to Dayton Beach that I can smell that salt water.

I am sure it had little to do with the fact I turned my trunk into a cooler with roll out insulation and garbage bags, and the days I did attend I was so drunk I couldn't stand up. I had understanding teachers and went to school in the days that it was ok to tie up your principal and throw desks out a window.  It was a time before no child left behind or zero tolerance.

Somewhere around the Mesozoic era I taught, yes me, shut up, I did it for 1 year and it was in exchange for my children's tuition at private school.  My oldest son was sighted as the reason that a teacher quit in her letter of resignation and moving to Iceland.  I don't blame her, I almost removed my reproductive organs with a spork after he was born.  But that was long ago and I have blocked it out with much effort and expensive vodka.

My husband the Droid has a higher advanced math Degree, Metorology and a couple Computer whatevers, and I have a couple under my belt not to mention the Prince is our 3rd go around, and literally the easiest child on the planet to raise or teach.  So when this year, Mr.  Good Citizenship.  Student of the Year,  Good Conduct, winner of the Regional Physics Science Fair,  A Honor Roll brought home his 4th C on a test in math we were how do you say..... " pissed".

After the mandatory parental lectures a conference was requested.  Then we looked through his folder and saw that 7x7=49 was wrong and 7x3=21 was wrong and   12x2=24 is wrong.

Well suck my imaginary dick and color me confused.   Clearly there was an error in the grading. No biggie we will straighten this out in a jiffy lube.

So we get there 15 minutes early and wait 30 minutes because she apparently had to tweet or what the hell ever because it was her break.  Then the cram my fat ass and my husbands 6'5 ass in the tiniest chairs you have ever seen while she and her cohort sit in normal adult chairs.

* Note- this was a power technique we used in psychology and GVT to keep the upper hand,  and control of the situation.  It didn't work since she is the same age of my daughter and I felt I didn't need control.

So we begin with how is he in the class, are there any problems?  blah blah, yackity yak, blah.  Then we say we are concerned as he has brought home 4 C's and he has never had below an A, and this is the foundation to the rest of his education and we want to make sure he understands here so that he doesn't fall behind, is he understanding in class, paying attention turning in work, what can we do to work as a team blah.

TEACHER-  your son is absolutely the sweetest child ever, I adore him, don't even worry about the grades, he is a doll baby.

ME:  well if this was the doll baby acadamy I wouldn't but it's a school so I am worried about the grades, for example I think there is an issue with the grading on this test, example 12x2=24  is marked wrong so is 7x3=21 and so on.

TEACHER ( looks at us like we are morons)=  yes, those are wrong,  a LOT of the OLDER parents have an issue understanding new math,  we don't waste time memorizing multiplication anymore, we now estimate, he didn't estimate, so they are wrong.

HUSBAND-  ( about to lose higher math mensa IQ shit)-  excuse me, did you just say "waste time learning multiplication?   are you aware they are called math FACTS?   it's because it's a fact, not a theory or opinion, they don't change, also how can they divide, if they can't multiply?  also no where do the instruction say "estimate" those "x"  symbols mean multiply in mathematics.

TEACHER- ( wont make eye contact with husband anymore and looks at me)  your son knows this we learned this in class, so he knew what to do, and knows why he got it wrong.

ME- Well with us being OLDER parents, with HIGHER DEGREES, we are probably confusing him by making him learn things like multiplication and such, so I would like him to enter your tutoring program immediately.

TEACHER- OH, well that's for kids who are failing.

ME- ok I will tell him to stop turning in homework or answering any questions, since we are old and dumb. Also do you like chair with salt?

TEACHER-   excuse me?

ME-  I am just wondering if you want salt on that chair if I make you fucking eat it if you call me old again?

TEACHER-  OH I didn't mean it like that.

ME- I did.

End result.  My kid went to that teachers tutoring for 6 weeks 3 days a week, and fell off honor roll for the first time in 5 years,  yep,  he went from 5 years of straight A's to 1 A,  3 B's an 2 C's,   can you spell A-W-E-S-O-M-E?

Probably not if you're an old parent,  because even as an old parent he was still on honor roll all A honor roll, possibly looking at a B in one subject.  But Thankfully we put him in tutoring so he was able to be fully submerged in that awesome learning system and we stepped out of the equation as to not confuse him with our old and dusty out of date thoughts that the teacher pointed out would only " mislead him". Now he has horrible grades.  How cool is that?


XO


PEACH OUT