So I spent my Black Friday doing what all good girls do--working. I know, you're thinking, I'm supposed to be a shopaholic, but I'm not really. I love shopping, but I hate looking for parking and that is mostly what you do on Black Friday--drive around and around looking for someplace to park and never finding anything and that is way less fun than parking. Also, I hate standing in lines and I can just about tolerate Forever 21 on a quite day in the middle of the week and the busiest shopping day of the year would make me collapse on the floor in a heap which wouldn't be good for shopping and also might make people call 911 and ambulances are very expensive, which I know from personal experience having ridden in 4 of them.
Yep, you read that right--four ambulance rides in my life so far, but one of them was for Baby Child 1 so that one shouldn't count. Also, I didn't call for that one--my neighbor the sheriff did because he panicked at the sight of blood. But the other three were for me and twice, I was actually dying and only once was it probably not necessary but because I was unconscious, I couldn't tell my band director not to call the ambulance. I think I may be the only band member ever to be taken off the football field on a stretcher. It was thoroughly embarrassing but again, because I was unconscious having fainted from heat stroke, I don't remember much of it except the ugly yellow surgical down they put me in because my stupid black satin and silver lamé uniform was too hot for 110 degree Texas heat. These aren't our uniforms, but you get the idea.
That was the first ride. The second was when Korea tried to kill me and that was the worst one because apparently nobody pays attention to sirens in Korea. It took over 30 minutes to go less than a mile. Then the third one was after giving birth to Child 1 when I was hemorrhaging. There is a whole story along with that one which I may tell at a different time, but it was the most expensive because our insurance wasn't very good.
I have no desire to ever ride in an ambulance again, but I can't promise that given the crowds at mall where I am taking Child 1 tomorrow against my better judgment that I won't come close to needing one. I'll keep you posted, though.
This Norwegian ball of slime is having a worse day than me, and I have to say that I am really happy about that. I refuse to write his name or put up his picture because he doesn't deserve the attention. He is evil as evil can be and killed 77 completely innocent people. My friend was visiting Norway when it happened and he heard the explosion and I can't imagine how awful that must have been. But anyway, the ball of slime is complaining about Norwegian prisons and how awful they are and I have to say, Mr. Slime, you. know. nothing. Nothing! If you think for a second that Norwegian prisons are bad, you should feel very grateful that you don't live in Indonesia, or China, or Tanzania, or Mexico, or any of a hundred different countries whose prisons make Norway's look palatial. I actually lived on the grounds of a prison in Norway (we rented a room in the grounds keeper's house) and I'm telling you that it was great. You can smell a Chinese prison from two blocks away. I have never been to one in Mexico, but I've heard stories. Even Korean prisons are a pit compared to Norway and those were pretty good. (Korean prisons have a karaoke room and videos for rent.) So, Mr. Slime, thank you for reminding me to be grateful that I am not as delusional as you. And if all you have to complain about is that the guards are impatient while you're brushing your teeth, then you are much better off than any of the people whose lives you stole. I really hope that someday you get what you actually deserve.
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