Fear Not Dr. Dath...

So, just wanted to let everyone know I am alive, but haven't been feeling too hot since my last post. Don't worry, I don't think I'm dying or anything dramatic. Though I *do* have a flair for the dramatic.

Found myself in hospital emerg. last night.

I had the pleasure of pushing a button, waiting for #106 to be "served" (what is it, the damn deli counter?), then sitting beside a young fellow with psychiatric issues who discussed his passion for saving others uncertain of a) the Afterlife b) Jesus Christ and/or c) some computer game. He also discussed his passion for his sister, and indicated he wished her "resolve was not quite so strong" to the gentleman beside him.

I wish I was making this shit up.

His sister appeared, and she split her time between praising Jesus/finding his light and letting the sick, elderly people in the room know, insulting her mentally ill brother, and talking trash about the hospital staff and how she would like to sue them.

It was truly heartwarming. I love me a well-rounded Evangelist.

As I clutched two little teal-coloured plastic bedpans (in case of vomiting), I just hoped a spot would open up for me.

The crazy went on and on and on.

I thought to myself... let's be positive! Then the true me starting thinking about how much it all sucked and all the bad things associated with being there.

I summarized my thoughts, left to right, in a chart just for YOU!

At the end of the day? Some unpleasant findings, and a (supposed?) referral to another doctor next week.

His name? Dr. Death Dath.

I shit.you.not. Can't wait for that appointment. Should be great. I'll let you guys know (presuming I live through the appointment to tell).

p.s. I am asking for my health for Christmas. I wonder if the girl with the line to Jesus could have gotten me into direct contact with Santa? Dammit, the pain clearly clouded my judgement.

UPDATE - OCTOBER 5, 2010:
Dr. Dath was a very very nice man who took time to explain things to me and calm me the eff down, and I hope he doesn't Google himself, find this page, and think I am mocking him. I admit, his name sort of terrifies me, but to anyone who has happened upon this blog while looking him up - you will not be disappointed, I have every faith that he will be able to help you with your problems, or at least let you know where to go/who to talk to if he cannot help you himself. Just wanted to clarify that. He is a very good doctor.

And, interestingly enough, as Jody pointed out, I have the 4th spot on page 1 when you search him, even if my Gerard. J. Butler post failed miserably and never even made it into that stinkin' search engine.

 
That is all.



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Michael Bublé Incites Rage

[EDIT - November 2016] - I wrote this post years ago, and it still gets a surprising number of reads. I am an asshole, no doubt. This is mindless blather. I've just recently learned that Mr. Buble's son, Noah, an innocent and certainly wonderful little 3 year old boy has been diagnosed with cancer. I extend my actual real sincere heartfelt concern to him and his family at this time. I have a 3 year old, and I can't imagine the agony, fear, sadness and turmoil they must be experiencing. So, yes, I am obviously an asshole with my irrelevant post below, but I hope Noah can overcome this.... as quickly as possible. Make a full recovery and that he will flourish and the family can rest easy. 

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Yes, I said it. It's totally irrational, not at all logical, and unclear even to me. But it's true.

The moment I even hear his name uttered, I can feel the hairs raise on the back of my neck (and not in a good way). I cannot change the radio station fast enough when his voice comes on. It makes me blind with rage, for some strange reason.

Exhibit A: MB causing inner rage right now. Probably will never be able to look at this post again. Thanks a lot.

In my mind, I overlap his face with John Mayer which automatically gives him about 90,000 points for douchey-ness. "But Stephanie," you say "he is NOT John Mayer so why punish poor Bublé?". You might also say "Stephanie, don't start sentences with the word BUT".  Who knows, I can't read your minds, people.

Exhibit B: Douchebag Mayer (anyone who hurts Team Aniston is no friend of mine, kids)

 See, not really similar. Except for the douchiness.

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