I'm so mad. I was about to log in just now, and one of the random links on the page was to a blog called "t8er boi." How hilarious is that? That man could be my future husband! But cruel fate (or perhaps bill gates) tore me away from him when IE crashed, and now I don't know the url and couldn't find the page on google.

Anyway: I'm about to get on the 'roids. We decided this pansy colasol crap wasn't cutting it so I'm going to go on steroids. Fun stuff, I'll tell ya. Anyway, I'm relishing the chance to act bitchy and use 'roid rage as an excuse.

Also, it took an HOUR in the office just to wait for him. Stupid Dr's offices, I hate them SO much.

Also, I hate how I'm the only one under 60 who comes into that waiting room. It clearly shows me how fucked up my digestive system is that I'm the only non 60 year old who's going to a digestive disease consultant.

And I'm sick of the paperwork. I have to fill out 8 forms every time I go there. And they ask crap that doesn't even have anything to do with my colon. Like, marital status. I put down "Still lookin'."

And my mom told me this story about how a deer broke into my dad's office building. Honest to god. I would've loved to be one of the people working at the desk near where it busted in. That's gotta be like, the ULTIMATE "this weird thing happened at work," story. You could milk it for years. Hell, I still tell people about the car that exploded behind the Old Lady Store I worked at three years ago. Hell, I'll be telling my grandkids about the deer and I don't even work there. Hell, I just like saying hell.