Recent Ridiculousness

Ok, I know it has been quite a long time (full of weeping and gnashing of the teeth) since my last post, but give your jaws and eyes a rest because your grief-stricken days are over for now. A lot has occurred in the world during my hiatus, and I would like to address a couple of those things.

Avatar practically bombed at the Oscars, which gives me fuzzy feelings inside knowing that the ever-pompous James Cameron has run out of tears and has severely inflamed ducts due to his non-stop cry-fest since being beaten out by his ex-wife. Ha! Jerk!

The world seems to be taking a very brief vacation from swooning over those long-toothed, blood-gurgling, undead freaks from Twilight just long enough to embrace the needs-to-be-constantly-mostly-naked-with-crazy-glasses-and-a-disturbingly-unhuman-face, talentless, transgender known affectionately as Lady Gaga. What, exactly, is the draw to her? She has the face of an Ewok (those creepy, bear-like creatures from Star Wars), and the singing prowess of a Pussycat Doll being prodded in the neck with a hot iron (sort of like Poker Face – get it?).

Anywho…

People need to stop giving dumb names to their children. At the pharmacy there are really dumb ones, like Treasure, Heaven, Darwin, and even one named Messiah. Are you kidding me? Unless you are setting forth a path for your whiny brats to become leaders of some new, religious movement (Darwin/Messiah) or full-on, low-class, trashy, strippers (Treasure/Heaven), stop giving your children ridiculous names. I know as a parent you have the power to assign your unfortunate offspring with whatever ludicrous moniker your cruel, black heart desires, but think about what you are doing to those children before you send them out into the world to be thoroughly humiliated by my kids, Superfly, Ninja Dragon, and Queen Emma The Awesome.

Some guy came in complaining to Senior Jackie Chan that someone opened his kid’s bottle of liquid antibiotic. Really people?

A lady, whose attitude suggested that she regularly feasts upon the still-living bodies of mice, children, hobos, and new-born kittens, was giving me hell the other day. She was irritated that we didn’t magically have her new insurance information on file. I updated the system and reran the claim through her not-magically inputted insurance. I was ringing up her transaction and counting down the seconds to the glorious exit of the latest kitty-eating, slack-jaw the fine city of Katy has to offer when she pulled out a discount voucher from the pharmaceutical. I died for a few moments, and unfortunately came back to life with the lady still there. I explained that I would have to enter the voucher information and run her Rx through yet again. This, of course, took her by complete surprise (magic expected again), and she mumbled something inappropriate in a sinister-yet-hushed screech. I was about to come back with something to this pet raven of the devil that would be completely satisfying, unabashedly malicious, and sure to get me fired (Oh no, no more CVS!!! Millions of fake freaking tears…), when I read something on the voucher that amused me. Written in bold with lots of capitalized and underlined words, “Hand this to the pharmacist when DROPPING OFF your prescription NOT when PICKING UP your medication!” That is a bingo!!!

The Cylinders have stop coming in to fill!!! YAY!!!

Lastly, a guy walks up to the counter. The normal indifferent, exchange of existence acknowledgments take place, and he tells me the name of the person for which he is picking up medication. How many? He has no clue. I verify the medications with him. He has no clue. I could have told him I have three medications for your stupid kid, rat poison, cocaine, and marshmallows – he would still have that classic, brain-dead look on his face. The man calls his wife to make sure he is supposed to be picking up eye drops for his poor, poor, kids with allergies. I can hear her bantering on about how her precious little princess has watery, red eyes and is just minutes from an excruciating, untimely (yet in my opinion deserving) death. Verification verified, and ready to move on…nope! The guy who is still wearing his $300 Oakley sunglasses and $2,000, ugly Bulova watch cannot believe that Medicaid did not completely cover his kid’s allergy eye drops. The co pay is $20. He calls his wife again, and makes me talk to her. She is half-pleading, half-scolding me about charging her too much. I try to explain to her how Medicaid decides how much the co pay is as I am not in the habit of adding money to people’s medications to get some extra gas money. She screams something about not having $20 right now and hangs up the phone. Die, come back to life, and die again you government-tax-payer-scamming uber-B…

More to come later.