Dear Sudafed, I Love You

by aquagnome22

Is it shallow of me to pick a doctor based on his or her appearnce.  You see, the ear nose and throat (ENT) community seems to be lacking in the DILF (you know like MILF, only I don’t want a MILF I’m quite happy in my own heterosexual relationship thank you very much) granted I’m not looking to date this doctor and since they’ll probably be shoving things up my nose do I really care if they look attractive or not?  

With that said, my sinuses are oh so hilarious right now.

And I don’t want to go to the doctor (even though I’ve tried twice in the past month and a half to fix this issue)

And I have diving this weekend

And I’ll be mixing up a decongestant cocktail to get through this weekend

Oh and I’ll also be playing “Sinus Irrigation Fun!” tonight to see if it helps  (It will be like that time in high school when Kerry snorted salt while pretending to be Stevie Nicks, only I’m assuming this experience will be less painful -yet not quite as hilarious)

A doctor was recommended to me by a couple we with, however this doctor’s office is an hour and a half away from where I work.  Boo! I called DAN (Divers Alert Network) to see if they could recommend someone and they gave me the name and number of the doctor in charge of hyperbaric medicine instead.  Damn it.  So now I’m back to being shallow and picking doctors based on their appearance and where they earned their medical degree. 

This brings me to why I should have my own pharmacology degree, because pill mixing fixes everything (I sound like one of those moms who ends up in rehab for being addicted to pain meds. . .only I’m not taking pain meds I’m playing “decongestant roundup” instead).  You see Claritan mixed with whatever package I found in the company first aid kit = I can breathe today.  I feel like I’m running my own lab. No not a meth lab you freaks, go buy your wasp spray or whatever it is you use nowadays.

So yes, I’m a bit cranky about the sinuses issue. 

In other news, my apartment was re-rented within 24 hours of my turning in my notice.  So much for hoping I could stay another week.  The current plan is to pack my stuff into a truck, leave it with Becky’s parents, travel for half the week for work, come home and live with friends all while harassing our apartment community to let us in early.  All of which of course will probably cause me to drink purfuesly on the plane which also means I need to remember to get cash before I board.  “Why yes of course I’d love a nice Merlot, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and maybe some Grey Goose. . .no no I won’t need the meal today”   They’ll probably charge me for the meal, I’ll be better off getting my caloric intake from overpriced alcohol.  I’m kidding, how could I pass out rehydrated chicken and vegetables of a questionable origin?  (PS- Always trust the flight attendent’s view on what you should eat. I learned the hard way on a British Airways flight that chicken IS NOT the answer).

And my political .02 for the day:

Hey Al Sharpton and Jessie Jackson, perhaps now is a good time to apologize to these boys. . .