It occurred to me recently that some people might think my poor hubby would be justified in putting me through the wood chipper (as he has frequently offered).
I would just like to take a few moments to praise my longsuffering hubby, butt of all my jokes, straight man, and bickering opponent for 13 years now.
I know you won't believe me, but he loves the stories I tell about him.
See, he's got what they call a "sense of humor."
Like me, he doesn't care if the joke is about him, as long as it's funny. Wait a minute, let me clarify that - I don't care if the joke is about ME, either, so long as it's funny. Yes, I also don't care if the joke is about him....
He's a good man, a quiet drunk, a killer scrabble player, a man born with a silver ________ in each hand. (Insert name of any tool is the world.) He's also an insane Quebec driver - you should SEE the startled looks on the faces of the pedestrians! He's Irish, that's why he's so stubborn, opinionated, and he thinks he's right - ALL THE TIME.
But he loves deeply and hardly ever complains. And he's the world's most patient man.
He's had to be.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
W A I T I N G F O R D O C T O R . . . . .
I had vertigo yesterday. To those whose vocabulary isn't yet completely formed, vertigo is dizziness. (Now, now, no comments about "dizzy broad." This is SERIOUS!!!
I was unable to work, because the world was spinning around me. And closing my eyes made it worse. And there were stabbing pains in my head. Time to head for the horse-pickle.
Where I waited. Ate. Quilted. Drank. Made friends. Gave out marital advice. Quilted. Ate again. Drank again. Had searing pains in the head. The world continued to spin. Asked the nurse - not how long the wait was, because they CAN'T TELL YOU THAT.... but how critical I was, on the list of who gets bumped down when someone with a more serious condition comes in. I was in the middle. So I waited. Ate. Drank. Finished the quilt. Gave out more marital advice.
The tedium was occasionally punctuated by two psych patients who roamed the first floor at will. "C", a woman who looked to be somewhere between 20 and 40, was having a party. I don't know who she was talking to or dancing with, but she mostly didn't bother anyone, except if you had to get past her - that sometimes took a minute or two...
But Pyjama Man was a bit more annoying. He talked very loudly and expected people to listen to him, and if they didn't, he got in their face and talked louder. Oh, except when he was trying to pick up a woman.
Towards the end of my wait time, they wheeled in the stretcher-bound alzheimer's patients. "Doktore! I need to see DOKTORE!" yelled one unfortunate woman. Though the nurses managed to convey to her that she had to be quieter, she still yelled out every time a uniform walked by.
By this time I'd been waiting for eight hours, and as I had an appointment to get to that I'd made seven months previously, I took my chances being dizzy and left.
In the meantime, I'd figured out a pilot script for a new tv show. Medical shows abound on tv, they've long been favourites. But this one wouldn't have the doctors and nurses as the main characters - it would be the patients in the waiting room.
Because, let's face it - no one is funnier that human beings at their worst!
I was unable to work, because the world was spinning around me. And closing my eyes made it worse. And there were stabbing pains in my head. Time to head for the horse-pickle.
Where I waited. Ate. Quilted. Drank. Made friends. Gave out marital advice. Quilted. Ate again. Drank again. Had searing pains in the head. The world continued to spin. Asked the nurse - not how long the wait was, because they CAN'T TELL YOU THAT.... but how critical I was, on the list of who gets bumped down when someone with a more serious condition comes in. I was in the middle. So I waited. Ate. Drank. Finished the quilt. Gave out more marital advice.
The tedium was occasionally punctuated by two psych patients who roamed the first floor at will. "C", a woman who looked to be somewhere between 20 and 40, was having a party. I don't know who she was talking to or dancing with, but she mostly didn't bother anyone, except if you had to get past her - that sometimes took a minute or two...
But Pyjama Man was a bit more annoying. He talked very loudly and expected people to listen to him, and if they didn't, he got in their face and talked louder. Oh, except when he was trying to pick up a woman.
Towards the end of my wait time, they wheeled in the stretcher-bound alzheimer's patients. "Doktore! I need to see DOKTORE!" yelled one unfortunate woman. Though the nurses managed to convey to her that she had to be quieter, she still yelled out every time a uniform walked by.
By this time I'd been waiting for eight hours, and as I had an appointment to get to that I'd made seven months previously, I took my chances being dizzy and left.
In the meantime, I'd figured out a pilot script for a new tv show. Medical shows abound on tv, they've long been favourites. But this one wouldn't have the doctors and nurses as the main characters - it would be the patients in the waiting room.
Because, let's face it - no one is funnier that human beings at their worst!
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