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Today, I get to play angry screaming white bitch. That’s my role in this telephone conversation. It’s going to go something like this:

Doctor’s office: “Hi, how can I help you?”
Me: “RAWWR. RANDI WANTS DRUGS.”
Doctor’s office: “Excuse me?”
Me: “I have been calling you for TWO FUCKING WEEKS trying to get a fucking refill to my fucking medication, which I kind of REQUIRE due to my EXTREMELY PAINFUL degenerative disc disease. MY FUCKING SPINE IS FALLING APART AND YOU WON’T GIVE ME MY GODDAMN PILLS.”
Doctor’s office: “Ok, the doctor will call you back to confirm.”
Me: “Oh hell no you don’t, dumbass bitch. That’s the line they’ve been feeding me every time, if they bother to even answer their fucking phones. I want the doctor on the phone right now, or you better call up Walgreens and give them my prescription information. It’s not like I’m asking for Valium. I’m asking for anti-inflammatories. They aren’t addictive, you’re just a stupid bitch.”
Doctor’s office: *click*
Me: “fuck.”

I desperately need a new doctor, but for that, I’d have to have new insurance. Mike thinks he might be able to get me on his. We’ll see.