This was a crazy fucking decade. Let’s reflect together, shall we?

2000 - I turned seventeen. I was a rock star. I went to rock concerts and met bands. I was cool. I had pink hair. I played the electric guitar in an all-girl band. We only had one song. Life was good. Like, really good. I was popular in my own way and doing well in school.

2001 - Fucking hell. Totally dropped out of high school my senior year. Well, not exactly. I just stopped going to class. Depression was kicking my ass. KICKING IT SOFA KING HARD. I had my heart broken by someone who isn’t worth discussing anymore. I then met and fell in love with my first actual not a doucheface boyfriend and we moved to Houston because we were stupid (I hate Houston). I started college (your mom goes to college).

2002 - BORING. I was going to school and working part time at some busted up mall. Boyfriend and I were boring.

2003 - We moved back to Dallas and I continued going to college. We broke up the week before my birthday and then got back together just in time for me to not spend my birthday alone and then we broke up again. I moved into my own place. I was lonely so I moved in with my dad and his wife. It was hell. I didn’t spend much time there. I was doing things like getting drunk and sleeping on random people’s sofas. My liver was very upset with me during this time.

2004 - Got accepted into UT-Arlington and fucked that shit up. Depression came back HARD and I slept away the semester in my cold and isolating dorm room. I got a job at fucking Kinko’s and moved with a girl that I drank with. I met a dude who lived in Oklahoma and we long-distanced until I got evicted from my apartment and decided to move up OK. I transfered to a store in Oklahoma and ran away from my problems in Texas. Yes, it’s THAT easy.

2005 – We broke up. God was he annoying. STAB STAB STAB. I decided that I hated my job and would join the Air Force so that I could travel or whatever. I met Jacob the week before Thanksgiving. We got engaged Christmas day.

2006 - Gave up on my idea of joining the Air Force. I didn’t want to be bossed around. Or something like that. I moved in with Jacob and his nine gazillion roommates. I quickly got to work on getting them to move out. And yes, I was 100% successful. Worked kinda hard, partied hard. Made new friends. Life? It was good.

2007 - I fucking got married! I never thought that would actually happen. Sucker! We got married on St. Patrick’s day. It was amazing. Shortly after that I accepted a promotion and moved back to Dallas. Jacob moved down a few months later since he had to finish out a contract at his job. We lived in a shit hole apartment. We had double dates and slept late and went out to sushi often. Oh, disposable income.

2008 - I got promoted to center manager of a brand new store. Awesome. Or whatever. Worked my ass off. We got pregnant! Moved to a better apartment complex. Hosted our very first Thanksgiving dinner. Felt like grownups.

2009 - I started this blog. My grandpa died. WE HAD A BABY! I quit my job so that I could stay at home with Peanut. Money became very tight. Ramen noodles = dinner. Went back to school and decided to kick some ass. Built a house and then moved into it.

So… I guess that’s it. THAT’S IT? Lauren, are you fucking kidding? This year alone was totally bananas and you sum it up in like six sentences and a math equation?

Fine. The aught decade is fucking over. Good times, bad times, really bad times. Not to mention all of the shit that happened around the world which I won’t get into because you already know and I’m sure another blogger is doing a proper decade-in-review.

So yeah. Happy New Year.

Don’t get me wrong, ladies (and Dad). I LOVE Sex and the City. I thought that the series was fun and entertaining and the first movie is my go-to film to watch when I’m feeling sick and blah (what’s your sick day movie of choice? Nevermind. I don’t actually care.).

WITH THAT SAID, I think that one movie was enough. It was a nice end to the series for the fans that wanted a little more of the four classy but mostly slutty New Yorkers. We needed to see Carrie and Big (whose name turned out to be JOHN. WTF, dude. All of that wait for JOHN?) get married. Other than that it was all good ol’ fluffy flufferson that only SATC can deliver.

I love their styling. It makes me want to take chances with my look (but only at home in front of the mirror while I play dress up in my closet. Not in the real world.). I love the scenery – I’ve never been to NYC but it looks like an amazing place to visit. The storylines are a little watery but whatever. I always thought that Carrie was such a selfish bitch and that someone should have shoved her down a manhole.

So whatever. I’m totally going to see the second movie but from the looks of the trailer I can’t fucking figure out if there’s an actual story or just shot after shot of their clothes and cocktails.

So there you have it. Wanna go with me? We can wear uncomfortable shoes and drink. And look, the adult tutu is making a comeback!!

Ahem.

I’ve got a complaint.

And yes, it’s with YOU, Medco.

I never intended on using my blog to get stuff or put companies on blast. But this is unacceptable. I am livid.

I am out of my sweet Zoloft. Actually, for the sake of accuracy, it’s Sertraline which is a generic form of Zoloft. It’s fabulous. It keeps the crazy in check. IT IS IMPORTANT.

And I ran out. Oops. My doctor gave me a ‘script for three refills and I finished it. I received a letter from Medco stating that since this is a long term prescription that I will be switching to mail order refills that will automatically be delivered to my house. Sweet! Now I don’t have to go into the pharmacy with all of the sick people! Oh, the germs!

The letter instructed me to get a two week ‘script from my doctor “while [I] wait for [my] mail-order prescription to arrive.” Makes sense. I can do that. I called up my doctor and explained the situation to her and she had it all set up for me. Fantastic! She had a nurse call in my prescription to the “retail pharmacy” and set up my mail order with Medco. Awesome. I didn’t have to do anything. Love it.

I go to my retail pharmacy which happens to be Walgreens to pick it up and the pharm tech tells me that my insurance won’t cover this refill.

WTF???!?

I get on the phone with Medco and the call center drone puts me on hold for no less than 15 minutes just to come back and tell me that they have sent me two letters and even did a courtesy phone call to remind me to get my mail order refills set up in order to avoid a lapse in my medication.

GOOD! GREAT! THANKS! APPRECIATE YA!

(STAB STAB STAB)

I didn’t have the mail piece in my hand that instructs me to get a two week supply but I did tell him ninety-eleven times about it. You know, that mail piece that YOUR COMPANY sent to me? You DO work for Medco right? This isn’t some third party call center horseshit that doesn’t understand how these sort of things work? You seem to speak proper English and yet you don’t seem to understand a single fucking word that I’m saying.

There was nothing they could do. According to Matt. Or whatever the fuck is unhelpful ass is named. I told him that this prescription is for an SSRI and it is imperative that I not have a lapse of more than a few days because things will get ugly and that there MUST be something that can be done.

He then told me that I could pay full price for the prescription.

I chuckled. AND THEN SLAMMED MY PHONE ONTO THE COUNTER AND SCREAMED “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!………

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Actually I did kinda laugh and then while biting my liberal tongue I told him that I pay for health insurance and that I’ve handed over enough money and that Medco should take care of the rest. I would pay my copay but that’s it.

Apparently the stellar logic of I GIVE YOU MONEY SO YOU CAN COVER THE EXPENSES THAT I INCUR WHEN I AM SICK OR CRAZY was lost on him.

The pharmacist gave me two little green pills of my sweet Sertraline to get me through the night and to keep me from killing anyone. I thanked her and told her that my husband will appreciate her giving me medication to keep me from being a total asshole to him.

I am amazed that my insurance company would not cover the cost of my medication. Have you ever taken an SSRI? Have you ever STOPPED taking it? Well, you can’t just quit it cold turkey. Not only that but people usually take SSRI’s for a reason. What if this was my diabetes medicine or an anti-coagulant or blood pressure medicine? What if I had cancer or HIV? Would Medco tell me to pay out of pocket and refuse to cover a measly fourteen day prescription? Why are mental illnesses not regarded as legitimate illnesses?

I am pissed off about this for a few reasons: 1. Medco does not take my need for medication seriously and is basically telling me that my illness is not as important or serious as someone else’s; 2. Medco receives a hefty amount of money from my family each month for our health insurance and they are now being stingy with it; 3. The call center guy basically told me that I was shit out of luck and that I should have heeded their messages to get this taken care of even though it clearly states in the letter that I should get a two week supply in the interim.

So thank you, Medco. While everyone else is going to bed on Christmas eve and snuggling and dreaming of the wonderful holiday, I won’t be. I’ll be having an anxiety attack. I’ll be wide awake because I’ll be afraid that someone will try to break into our house or that the baby will asphyxiate. So yeah. Thanks for that.

Since I didn’t vaginally deliver Peanut and I didn’t see her being pulled from the incision in my belly it is likely that she isn’t MY child. I mean, hospitals mix up kids all the time, right?

She can’t be mine for one obvious reason – she is SKINNY.

At her nine month well visit today she weighed in at fourteen pounds twelve ounces which means that since I last weighed her over a month ago she has gained less than one pound. She usually gains AT LEAST a pound so this is a little abby normal for my girl. Her pediatrician reassured me that once a baby becomes more mobile (and she totally is) the weight tends to pack on a little more slowly than when the baby was just a cooing drooling pooping vegetable (my words, not hers).

Good to know. She is now in the third percentile which is three percent from falling off of the chart altogether.

MY CHILD IS THINNER THAN NINETY-SEVEN PERCENT OF BABIES HER AGE?

Seriously, whose kid is this?

She’s tall and thin. WTF dude?!?!

I just don’t know who I need to contact in order to clear up this mistake. I mean, I’ll still keep her since I have grown attached to the little booger but I would like to verify that I did in fact give birth to an overweight baby and not a lean mean drooling machine.

She has to go back in about a month for a weight check. I made her pediatrician promise me that she wasn’t going to call Child Protective Services on me for having a skinny child. I SWEAR she eats ALL THE FUCKING TIME! I nurse her constantly! She eats carbs! Her favorite food is bread for crying out loud!

Maybe she’ll end up packing on the pounds during her most critical and terrifying years; her teens.