Now, because I AM the Dutchess and I live in Dorkville, you must know that this not the end of the story. Oh no. I am God's personal joke. I think he delights in fucking up my life.
Maybe it's because he is still pissed off at my whole "Dude, I am religious. NFL Sunday Football and Nascar Race watching are my Sunday church and alter!", but WHAT-EVER! Don'tcha just hate deities that are all uppity like that? Dude should take a lesson from the ever smiling Buddha, and just toke one up. There would be a hell of alot less judgement, eternal hell and damnation going on. You will never convince me that Buddha wasn't a stoner. The fucker was always smiling, has stoner eyes, and look at the size of him. I bet he got the best fucking munchies in Buddha land.
I'm just sayin'.
ANYWAY... back to my story.
So the Doc prescribed 3 antibiotics, ear drops and vicodin. KICK ASS! I love me some vicodin! It's the perfect after dinner mint. He gave me a prescription for 30 of them! wheeeeeeeee! I was positively giddy when I sashayed up to the pharmacy counter. As I was waiting for my script to be filled, I saw the new blood pressure thingy. It was sparkly new, with twinkly red flashing lights, and y'all, I love sparkly, twinkly things. So I think, COOL! I'm in!
I sit down, stick my hammy arm in the cuff, and press go. It lights up, and starts to take my blood pressure. But,(of course, right?) something isn't quite right. It keeps pumping, and pumping, and pumping. Jesus christ on a cupcake, the fucking thing is squeezing my arm like Chester the Molester at his first tittie convention!
I'm starting to panic AND lose my buzz, which is just not acceptable. I press the emergency stop button, and it just. won't. stop. My arm is a bit purple now, and I'm in such a state of panic I'm considering gnawing off my arm to stop the pain and set me free.
One would think that SOMEONE would notice a Dutchess with a purple arm from the elbow down flailing wildly about, but, nope.
Next, I hear them calling me from to come to the counter to get my prescription. Just. Fucking. Great. I decide to wildly fling my other arm up over my head and wave like I was trying to get Kenny Chesney's attention.
By now, I'm pretty sure my mother fucking arm in the cuff is not going to need to be gnawed off because it is getting ready to pop right the hell off of my shoulder from all of the goddamed pressure.
FINALLY, someone notices me. SWEET! Too bad it's the ditzy pharmacy tech who is all of about 12 years old. She comes up and says, "What's the problem here Dutchess."
Are you fucking kidding me?!
I'm pretty sure my eyes popped right out of my skull because the bitch ran away so fast she could have won a mother fucking gold medal at the Olympics. The pharmacist came over looking panicked, which of course, has now attracted a sizable crowd.
He unplugged that machine from hell and the cuff stopped squeezing, but, it wouldn't release my fucking arm. Now the store manager gets involved and decides to get a pair of scissors and cut my ass out of the damn thing.
People actually applauded when my purple, hammy arm was released. Fanfuckingtastic!
I'm off to take a couple vicodine, drink a few beers, and change all of my existing prescriptions to another pharmacy. I will never be able to show my face in that joint again.