Quick! Everybody hide the wire hangers!!!
:eek:
But dontcha kinda of want that for a sig line?
Did I actually just write “kinda of”?
shakes head
Weird. Like “gotcha ya.”
Not bad, not bad. Blood is a fair shoe polish, but anyone who is going to bleed on my shoes gets tested for HIV and hepatitis first.
And I make serial killers clean my floor and empty my wastepaper basket. When I’m in a good mood. Which I ain’t, today. :mad:
You are now obligated to change your user name to Wildest Crayon Eater.
(Yeah, it’s a hijack. You don’t think I’m going to say one word that might irk Eve right now, do you? :eek: )
I don’t suppose you could find another pulmonologist, could you? Or is your mother’s history complicated enough that the snob is the only one who could hope to remember it all and handle it properly? Not that he does, obviously.
Where’s his head at that he doesn’t tell other doctors who are prescribing for your mom that he’s changing her medication? I mean, other than the obvious answer of “up his ass”. After 30 years you’d think he’d have gotten the clue that you have to check medication interactions first.
I think you may also have caught a glimpse of your “What Would Paulette Goddard Do?” garter based on your thread title (bonus points to anyone who gets the double reference).
I put Eve’s crankiness down to her unrequited love for John Kerry.
‘fellas’ – it’s more alliterative
You must be upset to misquote miss congeniality.
You, ma’am, are a diva.
'Nuff said. 
WRS
Fortunately, Wholecloth Publishing’s Pocket Apocalypse series has just come out with the definitive guide to the consequences of annoying Eve. Titled “So Now You’re Just Asking for Trouble,” it outlines just exactly what will happen if Eve:
Spits – small gout of flame, puff of smoke, grass never grows again;
Frowns – 10 degree temperature drop, North American songbirds off-key for 48 hours, acid rain;
Scowls – Bridge tolls double, Chinook Salmon spawning cycle disrupted, extended warranties on all major appliances void, Teddy Roosevelt slides off Mt. Rushmore;
**Clenches teeth ** – Uriah Heep reunites, goes on tour, kites flown over Central Park burst into flame, Pizza and Chinese food deliveries delayed a half-hour throughout New York, New Jersey and New England;
**Shakes fist ** – Hail the size of artichokes, artichokes the size of hailstones, artist Christo accidentally wraps self in mylar and suffocates, Noam Chomsky tells a joke;
**Swears aloud ** – Hives for everybody! Also, ice cream now explodes when exposed to air;
**Stamps foot ** – Atlantis rises and declares war, carnivorous locusts, nobody finishes the Sunday Times crossword.
Seriously, Eve, please accept my sympathy and best wishes for you and your mother.
That one’s a keeper, The King of Soup.
Eve, I still want to be you when I grow up. 
You forgot:
Raises an Eyebrow – traffic lights go haywire, food rots in refrigerator, small mollusks explode;
Exasperated Sighs – stock market declines, souffles fall, rain in L.A., random baldness.
My Mom’s doctor likes to switch her medications when something new comes along. Of course, she doesn’t adapt well to changes in medication, so it usually makes her sick, and she ends up back on the original drug, but this has only happened oh, a half dozen times or so, no reason for the doctor to give up experimenting! We all love her doctor–won’t let him retire even, but if next time he doesn’t speak to one of her daughters about exactly why he wants to change Mom’s medications, I’ll be asking Eve for lessons.
Hope you Mom is doing fine.
Narrows eyes – Laser beams slice through skyscrapers; Mt. St. Helens burps
Hands on Hips – Snow squalls ravage Florida; mutant frogs invade backyard swimming pools
Shakes finger – Gale warnings, small craft advisories on both coasts; cornfields flattened
Growls – Brick buildings collapse; Mississippi River halts, runs backwards
One of my first thoughts for a User Name was “She Who Must Be Obeyed.” It’s so hard to be a control freak when people will not do exactly what I fucking tell them to.
The damn pulmonologist has been Mom’s doctor for 30 years, so she would be very upset if we changed. But he says he’s “too busy to talk to families,” and I cannot seem to make him understand that she is also getting prescriptions from her cardiologist, geriatric psychiatrist (because of her stroke) and her orthopedist, and that I have to keep all of her doctors fully informed of all of her medications. This summer she wound up in detox, because she had more drugs in her than Liza Minnelli. So I have to get this schmoe to work with me.
The cat-sitter and Michael, though, are grease spots in the road, as far as I’m concerned.
Now I’m going to swear aloud, just because I want to see ice cream explode.
Oh, and I also have to find a reliable, pill-giving cat-sitter in the next week, so I can visit Mom over Thanksgiving . . . Anyone know of any online pet-sitter clearinghouses?
Eve, I apologize.
This was not a time to try to be funny. I withdraw my earlier remarks and urge others tempted to follow my lead to follow this one instead.
I’m very sorry. And I hope you and your mother find comfort, competence and compassion, far in excess of what I in my arrogant stupidity have provided thus far.
No, no, no! This is exactly the time to be funny! You gave me the first good laugh I’ve had since . . . Well, since I saw Gus Visser and his Singing Duck Sunday night.