morally bankrupt

dizzy had to go to the vet yesterday because she hasn't been eating anything this week, and we've had to resort to force feeding her. the poor little thing was so stressed out from the move that she's mostly been hiding under the bed. she's come out to watch the toilet flush and stare out the front door on occasion, but now that we've gotten some food into her she's actually started to be much more sociable. not that feeding time is a barrel of laughs, ha ha. we've got the test results back that confirm what we had originally thought about her condition and derek is going to fax them to our vet at home for a second opinion.

we were less than pleased with our experiences at the office here. to say the least, the vet here SUCKS ASS. well, okay, the doctor was (if somewhat aloof) fine, but the staff is heinous and i hate them. they kept trying to push all these tests (cha-ching) and other treatments (cha-ching) that would've put us in the poor house. after turning into mary and researching them online, i was reading some reviews of their office and saw that this isn't the first time they've tried to cash in on a pet's illness. if i find the person whose idea it is to "recommend" all this extra shit i'm going to kick them in the fucking starfish so hard that you can see my shoe in their mouth. on top of them trying to pull a fast one on our wallet, the wait was interminable. we made an appointment. we showed up early. we left TWO HOURS LATER! they shuffled us between no less than five people. each one told the next one virtually nothing about our case. seriously, the doctor asked "if there had been a recent trauma in her life" and hadn't even been told that we had just moved cross country! towards the end i had to step outside so i could curse and smoke because i was so pissed about the entire incident.

guess what? they want us to bring her back there next weekend for another office visit and MORE TESTS! fuck them. fuuuuu-hhuuu-huuuu-hhhuu-huuuuuck them. let's see what our real vet says about our baby. i've also got calls in to the emergency room and the local spca in search of their recommends on a good doctor.

my opinion on the people of this place was already in the crapper before i even got here. thanks to people like that shitty veterinary staff and the guy we got/stole/appropriated/liberated this apartment from, it continues to sour. speaking of him, it turns out he's kind of a spiky bastard in general. the mailman hates him. the neighbors raise an eyebrow when speaking his name. he can't keep a good relationship with his girlfriend. he tries to fuck people over on signed contracts at his own whim. our new landlord was getting ready to pitch him. he parks his range rover (it's all starting to make sense now) like a fuckwit. did anyone like him? i mean anyone besides himself. i would have to agree with tim on this one. he can't be british... just a snotty racist black man from south africa who thinks he's entitles to whatever he wants. i can only assume that's he's here because whatever country he really does come from threw him out.

am i judgmental? yes i am. it's better than being morally bankrupt. i'm also pissed like a chick on the rag and frustrated with the idea that this is now the pool of people i have to choose from when making new friends. ack. maybe i can avoid the bottom of the barrel and start scraping from the sides. the OUTsides.

piss on all this. i'm gonna watch some bad vh1 and drink diet dr. pepper until i pee on myself. i've already seen the race and finished all my cookies. maybe later we'll go out for shitty burgers and fries. by the end of it all this day is going to be a stress eating bonanza. oh wait - does diet soda count as binging?