Monday, July 20, 2009

Profanity-ridden post the second.

Still no pack-out date, moving money, or anything else from the assholes at PSD. When the husbeast went over this morning they - again - had no idea who he was or what he was doing there. The only person in the place who admits to recognizing him is the receptionist, who keeps thanking him for not biting her head off (imagine how pleasant HER job must be). There is talk among the fuckheads of a packout date on Thursday or Friday, meaning some asshole movers will decide they don't want to come back Monday and try to pack my house in two days. The last time this happened half my property was destroyed and the rest was jumbled into boxes like someone picked up the house, turned it on its side, and shook the contents into a shipping container.

If it happens again, people will suffer. And it will not be me. I am not in a good mood and would love to have a target to take it out on. Fuckheads.




In other, related, the-military-is-a-clusterfuck news, Tricare is still refusing to pay for my anti-inflammatories and THEY didn't know who I was when I called, either. And as usual they're passing the buck and saying they don't know why the policy was issued and the rules put in place and I could talk to a supervisor who has no more authority to fix the problem than the stupid fuck on the phone and everything is always everyone else's fault. Fucking corporations. I got the number my doctor is supposed to call, left it on the doctor's answering machine, and now I get to sit here and take goddamn narcotics because they won't pay for the anti-inflammatories. When I get stomach cramps from narcotic withdrawal, I want to shit in a bag and sent it to the cuntheads over at Tricare. Maybe then they'll realize they're fucking with people's lives.


And I have a chin zit. That REALLY pisses me off.

6 comments:

Emily said...

This might sound silly: how about a threat of a lawsuit for reimbursement of the costs of not being moved? (If you have a lawyer friend to do this, or legal secretary, something.)Or perhaps Husbeast could go on getting PAID since clearly they don't expect him to leave?

I realize it's usually futile to try to sue the military; however, it creates dreaded paperwork...or maybe suggest that you'll go to the papers? I'm sure you've thought of all this: I am mentally punching the walls for you.

Anonymous said...

I hate chin zits. They never seam to go away.

You'd think you would get to a certain age (I am almost 50) and they would stop but they just keep on coming. I notice mine come more when I am stressed too.

I stil think sending the Goob with the camera and cheese doddles was the best idea. While sending shit through the mail might make you feel better, I think it might be illegal.

Pam

amy said...

This is a retirement move, right? So there's no base on the other end expecting your husband. And therein lies the problem. You're not anyone's priority, unfortunately. I wish I knew how to help.

And don't get me started on health care. If ANYONE in this country should have good health care, it's military families, for crying out loud. I just wrote a $746 check to the hospital for (ONLY PART OF) the pneumonia bills. That was for three bills, by the way. I'm already mentally preparing for the phone call I'll probably have to have because I wrote ONE check to cover THREE bills (to the same hospital).

Roxie said...

It might not happen when or how you wanted it, but the move WILL happen! Still, taking the Goober with the camera and a huge bag of Cheetos along with you when you go to reason with them is a charming idea. Perhaps you should also take in a poster with a picture of you, the husbeast and the goober, and the caption,
"PLEASE get these people out of our office!"

Amy Lane said...

Dude-- shit in the bag. Seriously--I think the military needs more potent reminders that their incompetence is someone else's suffering!

Donna Lee said...

I have no solutions or words of wisdom or even suggestions on how to best beat the military (they've been doing this far too long). Just some compassion and sympathy for your pain and your stress and anger and anxiety.