Rants By Request, Part 1

Today's post is brought to you by Firefly Sweet Tea Infused Vodka, in cooperation with the great suggestions for my booze-fueled rant post provided by you. I can't thank you enough, and I'll try to do you justice. You may be disappointed to learn that I'm going to have to break this into installments, partly because I want to give each topic full coverage, and partly because I'm so lit right now that within 30 minutes or so I may take my top off and sing Let's Hear it for the Boy.

For those of you who might like your blogs with a side of sugar, fair warning: here's where the nice stuff ends and the obnoxious, politically incorrect stuff begins. I'm sure I'll curse a few times before it's all over, and it's a certainty that I'll offend someone along the way. At least I hope I do.

I'm going to start with an issue near and dear to my heart, and that is being called Mom by people who were definitely cooked up in some other poor woman's uterus. I've kept very careful track, and there are only two people on Earth who can call me Mom. Anyway, if you've never experienced this, let me tell you that this is the most annoying, patronizing bullshit you could possibly imagine, and I don't tolerate it for a minute anymore. I can recall one dentist, Dr. Randal Rowan, who was seeing Tyler for the first (and last) time when he addressed me thusly, "Mom, you can wait right here. Tyler is a big boy and doesn't need his Mommy present for the exam.". I'm still kicking myself three years later for not saying, "Listen, you patronizing son of a bitch, I'm not your Mom, I'm a paying customer with a right to accompany her minor child anywhere she damn well pleases, and you can call me Adrienne. How does that work for you, Randal?"

You know, in general I think the medical establishment needs to be taken down a notch or two. My GP calls me Adrienne, and I call him Dave. He was a little shocked at first, but I'm not a big advocate of paying money to kiss someone's ass. Ok, you're a doctor, and it's a big deal, but I'm a big deal too. Do you even know who I am?

One more thing...I think any medical establishment that has the stones to charge for parking should be boycotted. I suppose it's not enough that when you go to the doctor you inevitably have your sovereignty as a human being violated in at least one way and pay richly for the privilege of doing so, now you have to pay to park your car. Bastards.

Speaking of what *holes doctors can be, I'll also go ahead and throw Dr. Michaeledes (formerly of Piedmont ENT) under the bus as the biggest jerk-face-doctor-jerk-guy I've ever met. As you may know, I have a condition that results in fluctuating hearing loss, so whenever I have to go to the ear-nose-throat place, I'm in dire straits and can't hear a damn thing. So here I am, deaf as a phone pole, trying to make my emergency appointment on the phone and I'm told that my original doctor had left, and had been replaced by (I thought) Dr. Michael Levy. So the doctor comes in and I asked him to clarify that his name was Michael Levy, at which he rolled his eyes and yelled, "It's Michaeledes. I'm Greek, and it's Michaeledes.", at which point I said helpfully, "You know, if you're sensitive about your name, maybe you shouldn't have chosen a profession that involves working with the hearing impaired." After a perfunctory, rudely performed exam, he prescribed me the wrong medication and sent me on my way. Then I paid for parking. Nice!

I recognize that I'm not doing a great job of staying on topic right now, so I apologize. Let's talk about cheap toilet paper, shall we? I'd like to think that only men are buying this crap, but I'm sure there are some gals out there who are guilty of this cruel false economy. If you're guilty as charged, you are hereby instructed to read the following statement out loud three times: We owe it to ourselves and one another to treat our most naughty anatomical parts kindly, even if it means parting with another precious dollar. Don't be cheap. Spring for the good stuff, and some lady's bits will thank you.

On the topic of ladies, I can't end this post without addressing what I like to call "Prosti-toys". If you're not sure what I'm talking about, think of those crazy Bratz dolls that look like promiscuous aliens. Isn't it great that some toy designer is out there thinking of ways to encourage preschool girls to be bratty and dress like whores? Trust me, by the time they're 12 they get the idea all by themselves. As if there aren't enough forces in play to teach girls to hate their bodies, deny their intelligence, and play to the lowest common denominator, we have these unholy dolls.

Oh, and how about thong underwear for itty-bitty little girls? At the risk of TMI, I think the whole thong thing is the finest example of sexist oppression since pantyhose, and I'm not effing participating. Don't like my VPL? Great! I didn't invite you to look at my ass, anyway, and I'm not paying $15 for a pair of underwear to have $10 worth of it up my crack.

Ok, folks, I'll leave it at that for now, but fear not...more rants by request to follow.