Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Rants are what God made blogs for.

So, do you ever have a half hour of crap happen that almost convinces you you're being punked? That any SECOND some dried-up ex-child-star will leap from behind a bush with a cameraman and say, "Wow, Miriam, you really handle stress well and that shirt looks great with dried drool on it on national TV. By the way, your fly is open and you're hyperventilating."

Driving to buy a stroller off Craigslist (because I'm CHEAP) I decided to call J and find out where our bank had an ATM so I could avoid paying the fee (because I'm CHEAP). Husbands with busy jobs make excellent concierges.

While in the ATM drive-through, some dip (expetive deleted) from the OHSU pediatrics office calls to tell me they are having trouble with our insurance provider. Except they have never had an actual problem with ours, and they aren't even saying its exact name- apparently ours just uses the same list of preferred providers or blah blah sweet jiminy blah. Bottom line: we can sign some waiver making OHSU come after us for all payments or we don't come to OHSU. She sweetly offers to leave our next appointment on the books for now. I sweetly fail to say anything smartassed and hang up so I can call NATO or somebody to get this straightened out.

Now I'm heading toward late for my clandestine internet meeting, so I schlep over where we were headed, buy the super cute stroller while Toby languishes in the carseat (FEVAH! recovery) and it starts to hail. While the sun shines down. Hard. Lots of hail. No locusts yet or seas of blood, though.

I hate to use the cell in the car, but this insurance thing was freaking me out because in my head our next seven kids must all be popped out at OHSU with the midwife group or at least given post-adoptive care there. So all the way home I'm talking to our company (who basically said, HUH?) and then J, and then when I got home I called OHSU back and they won't even give me a number to call. The NURSES are the ones to talk to about this? Really, where's the candid camera? I am trying very hard not to swear. The nurse doesn't understand what she's talking about either, especially the part where I tell her I need a number of a businessperson, not a babycareperson. What I need is somebody who understands, "ridiculous business practice" and "lawyer", so I'll end up with the priviledge of having HER take care of our BABIES.

There is NO PROBLEM with our insurance and I am not signing that waiver because they CAN'T MAKE ME just because they're annoyed with some OTHER company. They have horrible wierd complex billing anyway and isn't this exactly what we pay the insurers to deal with? Our company is actually trying to take care of this, but the only number I could give them was the daft nurse with the dafter supervisor.

AND, my ATM card was apparently left behind in the fray. The bank can't tell me if it's out having fun on the Nigerian stock market until 3pm, when they open the machine for all the idiots who leave their precious's behind.

Gaaa. If this is candid camera punking me, can I at least request somebody from the Breakfast Club? Or Six Feet Under? Or maybe Annie Lennox?

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