Thirsting For Some Punishment

, , , , | | Related | May 13, 2019

(A friend of mine told me this story. She is meeting her eight-year-old granddaughter at the annual spring fair in our village. Note: ours is small village so the fair is tiny — two rides, one raffle ticket booth, one shooting range, and four stalls that sell sweets and toys.)

Granddaughter: “Grandma, I’m thirsty. Can you give me money to buy something to drink?”

Friend: “I already gave you ten euros.”

Granddaughter: “I spent it all.”

Friend: “And what about the 20 Euros that your godmother gave you?”

Granddaughter: “I spent that, as well.”

Friend: “Well, if you spent all your money, you just have to go home to get something to drink.”

Granddaughter: *outraged* “Clearly you WANT ME TO DIE OF THIRST!”

(And no, my friend didn’t give her any more money.)

The Fahrt Jokes Are Back

, , , , , | | Related | May 10, 2019

(Mom has never been outside the US in her life. We pick her up in Frankfurt and head out on the Autobahn back to Wurzburg. As we are going along, she starts noticing the signs, “Ausfahrt” and “Einfahrt,” at the side of the road. She asks her dutiful son:)

Mom: “What do those signs mean?

Me: “Well, Mom, ‘Einfahrt’ means you can only fart once. ‘Ausfahrt’ means you can fart all you want!”

(Twenty silent miles go past as she mulls that over.:)

Mom: “These people are nasty!

(My wife can’t stand it me pranking her.)

Wife: “Don’t listen to that fool. Those words mean ‘exit’ and ‘entrance.’”

(Mom looks at her, looks at me, and then exclaims:)

Mom: “These people aren’t nasty; it’s my own darned son that’s nasty!”

Starved Of Decent Medical Care

, , , | | Healthy | May 10, 2019

(I have been diagnosed with Lipo/Lymph-edema several years ago, and because of that, I have gained an ungainly amount of weight on my lower half waist down and my arms. To be honest, I have not stopped caring about my weight, and every miserably failed diet has been a throwback to my mental health, too. My former doctor of choice, sadly, could not keep practicing, so I am on the lookout for a new specialist to take care of me and my needs of MLD — Manual lymph drainage — and compression stockings, to give me at least a little relief from the fluid build up in my extremities. Finding this doctor in a well-known hospital close by, a so-called specialist that was recommended to me, seems to be a lucky find!)

Doctor: “Ah, I see. A classical lip-edema type, complete with lymph-edema. Losing weight is horrible, isn’t it? No wonder, with the genetic factors, and the fact that lip-edema cannot be starved off.”

(Finally, a doctor who is not fat-shaming me or telling me to stop stuffing my face!)

Me: *almost melting into the exam table from relief* “Oh, God, yeah. It’s a nightmare! Not even six months on a 1200-calorie diet helped! And the lymph-edema is making it worse; every step hurts!”

Doctor: “Well, no wonder it hurts. I can–” *presses a thumb into my calf, making a nice deep dent there that stays even after he takes his thumb away* “–do this, and it just shows how much fluid you got. Now, you need to lose weight, drastically, and after you lost 30 to 50 kilograms, you can come back, and we’ll see how you feel.”

Me: “What? You just said… You just said that losing weight…”

Doctor: “Yes, but you need to lose weight! Get a dog or a husband, and you’ll be busy enough to forget about food! To lose weight, you should stop eating those sugary snacks, and the sugary fruit, and all those carbs, and eat more red meat and poultry! But remember, you cannot have too much protein!”

Me: *stares, not believing what I just heard* “Uh… okay? But what about compression stockings, and the MLD?”

Doctor: “Yeah, you see, I am not going to prescribe you that. You can lose weight with a good diet, and then you won’t have those symptoms anymore.”

Me: “You said lip-edema cannot be starved off… and I’m really in pain from the lymph-edema and the fluid build up. At least to help with that?”

Doctor: “Yes, but it is not worth either my time, nor the money, nor the effort to prescribe any of that if you can just lose weight, and forget about it!”

Me: *getting up, feeling like I’m in the twilight zone right now* “All right…”

(I left after that, and met with my family physician, who stared at me, called the health insurance company to complain about that doctor, prescribed me the lymph drainage and compression stockings, gave me a pamphlet about a specialised clinic for my lipo/lymph-edema, and filled out forms to get me a spot there for a three week “rehab.” He also told me to eat “normally/healthily,” since, you guessed it, lip-edema cannot be starved off.)

Mean Girls Versus Deadpool And Harry Potter

, , , , , , , | | Friendly | May 8, 2019

I take the bus to work, since I don’t have a driver’s license yet and my bike has a flat tire. I’m 23 and female. This morning, a young girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, sits across from where I am, wearing a Deadpool jacket, jeans with ink-marks, and Harry Potter-like glasses. She minds her business as I mind mine, until four girls around the girl’s age enter the bus.

They start giggling and laughing when they notice the other girl. I hear comments such as, “I bet her clothes get washed once a year,” and, “With hair that short she probably wants to be a boy,”  followed by, “No guy would ever want her, anyway.”

Unaware that I’m listening, they don’t stop until I get up — because I have to get off the bus at the next stop — get closer to them and say, “You know, your makeup might try to make you pretty, but you girls sure have an ugly character.”

The looks on their faces were priceless, but the smile the other girl gave me was worth it.

Unfiltered Story #148940

, | | Unfiltered | May 5, 2019

Note: We also sell cigarettes, cold drinks, snacks, etc.

Customer: “What’s the cheapest packet of tobacco you have?”
Me: “That would be [brand] at [price].” *I show it to him.*
Customer: “And what’s in it?”
Me: *confused* “Umm, tobacco?”
Customer: “Yes, I know, but for doing what?”
Me: “Making cigarettes?”

I still don’t know what exactly he wanted to know, and I suppose, he doesn’t, either…

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