So, last night was the night of many Halloween parties. Everyone is an asshole for scheduling the things on the same night, just so you know.
My head still has a dull ache. My left eye has decided to become a bit swollen. Fucking eyeballs not being made to withstand mascara wands stabbing them, or whatever the fuck I did to manage scratching my eye this time. I may actually be able to seek medical treatment about it though! When I got home from work on Friday, there was a pretty, pretty envelope with the return address of McLaren Health Plan. My first reaction was something along the lines of, "WTF?! I didn't know you could bill people for going to every hospital but yours." then I sat there for a minute, realized that that is probably not legal, and decided to open the envelope. Inside was a shiny new MEDICAL INSURANCE CARD!!! Upon reading that and the not-quite-so-pretty letter from the FIA, I learned that I have somehow become magically eligible for Medicaid again. I say magically cuzz I was told I made too much money to be able to recieve benefits before I got the raise that doesn't seem like it's there. I'm a tad confused as to how I have medical coverage again, so I'm going to call up there on Monday and figure out wtf is going on. It'd be nice to have the insurance so that maybe, just maybe, I can start going back to the doctor about the PCOS bullshit. I tell ya, sometimes, I wish I had been born a man. Then maybe I wouldn't have to deal with this kind of crap/ Ugh. But that's bitching for a rainy day.
Becky and I went to my company Halloween party for about an hour. In the time we were there, I had 3 cups of beer and 4 Jell-O shits. STRONG ass Jell-O shots. I had a pretty good buzz going on by the time Becky looked at me and commanded me to finish my beer so we could go to the Machine Shop. I complied, peed real quick like and we were on our way.
Got to The Machine Shop and amused Kevin Zink, annoyed Tony LaBrie a bit, and looked for Becky's ex, Del, who had apparently called her. I guess she agreed to go up there for some reason, I'm not remembering what it was at the moment. Seems he also asked her to go out and do something sometime. O_o But, I'm getting off topic. Long story short, Del wasn't there, so we left and headed out to The SHIT SHACK OF DOOM!!!! to watch From This Day Foreword
We get parked and all and walk in and immeadiately see the band. Becky begins our introduction.
Becky~ I am Capt. Obvious!
Me~ She is Capt. Obvious!
Becky~ And this is my trustee sidekick, Ranger Redundant!
Me~ I am indeed her trustee sidekick, Ranger Redundant.
See why Tony would be annoyed?
At one point as the night progressed, I realized that I needed to pee. the only place I had available? That's right folks! The Plastic Shit Shack of DOOM!!! Ugh. They moved it onto the big porch(?) thing next to a wall, so my only fears were snakes, the leech monster thing from The X-Files that lived in a Plastiic Shit Shackk of Doom, and random druck people deciding it might be funny to push it off the porch(?) since there was no longer a way to shake it back and forth. None of thast happened, but I was mildly disturbed when I walked in and noticed that it hadnt been emptied since, most likely, the first trip I made to the Plastic Shit Shack of DOOM!!!! (Look at my earlier blogs for the dat, I'm too lazy to do that for you) I'm serious when I say that there was used, urine soaked toliet paper alomst to the rim of the plastic molded seat. I have never been more happy to have figured out how to perch without toughing ass to seat in my entire life. Ew.
I left around 2AM. The second 2AM. Which was really 3AM. Or something.
Becky stayed out till round 4AM. I caught a ride with Jeff, the roommate from the apartment of happiness. I walked in the door, threw my shit on the couch and went to bed, where I guess I talked to Greg for a half an hour. I'm not sure what I said, but seems I was rambling on non-stop. I'm gonna have to figure out what the hell I said...
Pictures to come, though very begrudgingly. I have decided that the people who make my work uniforms are the devil, along with Boonesfarm and the people who created that damned "Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo! Whoo-hoo-hoo!" song that wqas in Kill Bill and is now in every fucking commercial I ever hear. I swear to crap I look like I weigh 500 fucking lbs. You'll see when I post the pictures. That probably won't be until next weekend, though. All I have to say is EW.
And, for your giggling enjoyment, I present to you The drama I caused in the bad_sex comm on LJ