Thank goodness we can't tip bus drivers

Because I would not.
The AATA bus drivers are 85% rude, 5% boring, and 10% good I guess (and I only say this because I have had a few sweet old men that I would never ever want to offend because they are so lovely- but I actually mean that).
But the younger bitches, now they're a problem. When I pay my (ever so increasing) bus fare as I board the headache-inducing bus, I am not only paying for transportation but service as well. I do not receive the service, unfortunately.
Most times when I get on, the younger drivers especially give me a half nod as I deposit the $1.50 (SERIOUSLY?!) and then fail to acknowledge my presence ever again. So lovely.

Yesterday, as I boarded a certain bus number which I will not reveal (and early, may I add? Had I come at the real time the bus was supposed to leave, I would have missed it. Listen bus drivers, being early is cool to like a standardized test or something, but not to the bus stop), I deposited my mom's money (I had to borrow it; $1.50 is way too steep for a jobless chick) and did not even get ONE look from the sassyass bus driver-- not even a mean one! Just none, whatsoever. So I went and sat down, rode the bumpy route, and pulled that little laminated string when I wanted to get off. The driver screeched the bus to a halt and looked up impatiently waiting for me to get off. As I chose the farther exit, only so I could walk past her, I gave her the sweetest smile I could must and said "thank you very VERY much!" She snarled and said nothing. Charming woman.

So like, why are these fussy humans being paid BY ME to be rude? I could stand to save the money that I pay for the bus and use it toward my unemployed fund. But alas, I have people to see so I must use their transportation.
If all bus drivers were as friendly as the few nice older gentlemen that drive, or had social skills even, I would not be so bitter that they are making money that I could make. I would also not mind riding the bumpy and nauseating bus. But they are not. So I do.

You're not witty OR sexy

I can't bear to listen to another un-hip DJ.
While driving through town today I was caught off guard by one of the male DJ's on 95.5 giving details of his newly found half-sister.
He claimed that he received a facebook message the previous night, from his acclaimed sister. That's darling. He then urged all the young mamas out there to call in and tell a story about how their baby daddy doesn't know he has a kid.
It's cute that he thinks that any of us care enough to hear his or anyone else's story. Save it for the family reunion, Mojo.
All I want to hear is Katy Perry's "California Gurls." That's all I'm asking. Please, don't let me hear another word of your petty shit.
If everyone got paid for telling dumb stories publicly, we'd all be taking spontaneous trips to Abu Dhabi, I'll tell you that much. I could use one right about now; being unemployed is tiring.

Get your wrapper out of my coffee, you dirty vegetarian

Time after time, I venture to a very certain downtown vegetarian restaurant and am usually repulsed- by both the things found in my food, and the waitstaff's attitude.

First of all, I can't bear to tell you all that I have found in my food there, but if you insist-- I guess I will. Candy wrappers in my coffee, paper in my omelet, a bug in my salad. Just to name a few. And these are all non-fiction claims, I promise.

A couple months ago, my family and I went there for the first time in months. I had been craving their (apparently updated and not so yummy) yam fries, so I ordered them with my sandwich. Our boring and rude waitress brought me regular fries. When I extremely politely reminded her that I had actually ordered yam fries she rolled her eyes and said "uh well that'll cost extra..." AS IF I HADN'T ORDERED THEM ORIGINALLY. I told her that yes, I knew that, because I had ordered them. She did another (not so impressive) eye roll and walked away to fetch my fries. Fifteen minutes later, as I finished my mediocre sandwich, boring and rude waitress came by to tell me my yam fries would be out in a minute. I told her that I was actually full and done with my dinner, so that would not be necessary. I'll let you guess what she did with her face next.
As she walked away, I wanted to scream "tip her nothing daddy!" but alas, I did not. With so much attitude in that place, someone's gotta make up for the lack of manners.

My waitress today, who apparently did not have a name because she did not introduce herself as we customarily do in this world, was a disaster. Not only was she a little yucky, but she got all of our orders wrong, too. Usually I don't mind when halfwits screw up orders if they posses manners and social skills. Nameless, however, did not. She apologized (which I'm telling you, was really really sweet!), proceeded to bring out the food that we actually did order (minus half of the things we actually ordered-- but we let that slide), and then was not very friendly. REALLY? If I had that well-paid job, I would turn up the sweet way more than necessary and go out of my way to be friendly. She did not.

Perhaps the waitstaff is all taking that memory loss medication that my doctor so kindly recommends. Good for them! I, on the other hand have a stellar memory and am really good at being fake. Too bad I am not employed here.

Also, please note that I may or may not be a vegetarian too, and am not repulsed by all of us. Only these bizarros.

Just give me my goddamn medicine

I wish that one of the requirements to graduate nursing school was competence. Unfortunately, it is not.
Without going into full details (which, I assure you, would convince you to take a west-bound trip to the Golden Gate Bridge), I will tell you that there are some nurse's assistants that are a hazard to the world.
After taking a trip to the doctor to cure a long-lasting neck pain (the subject of this doctor's visit has been changed for reasons concerning confidentiality and protecting the idiots' identities) that has been planned for months, the nurse's assistant dressed all in lime green (crocs and all) declared that they were unable to go through with the appointment because they did not take my insurance. Unfortunately, that's incorrect because I've been going there for years. After calling and getting into an argument with my very lovely but stressed out mother, she determined that they had written down the wrong information for me and she misunderstood what was written. I wish they had all gone to elementary school.
I proceeded with the appointment, where my doctor told me that I had two options: a pain preventative that will make me lose certain words in my vocabulary, or one that will make me obese ("and I mean really, really fat" were her exact words). I opted (or rather, she opted for me) for the one that will make me lose my memory. Splendid.

I was then told that I needed a blood test to make sure that my blood is strong enough to lose my memory, I guess. The nurse proceeded to stick the sharp needle in my vein and comment on how large it was. I almost vomited. Out of annoyance-- not loss of blood. Right before she thankfully pulled the needle out, she remembered that she had forgotten to bring the cotton swab to cover the wound. She then marveled at how large my bruise would be. At least she made one correct remark that afternoon.

After paying the $84 for what my family is still confused about, the nurse's assistance excitedly (yet also somehow boringly) announced, "Oh boy! You're an adult now! You get to fill out your own forms!" How exciting. If I were a nurse (which would probably make me gag), I would not only be un-patronizing but also human. And I would get things right.

I found out today that they forgot to call in my memory loss medication to the pharmacist. I am switching doctors.