A Professor, a Doctor and a parking deck attendant walk into a bar....

Tell me if you've heard this one....

Seriously though, each of the above represents someone I had to deal with in the past 48 hours. Let's start with the Professor.

• Professor

So, you all (meaning the two of you who actually read this) know how I have been anxiously awaiting my grade for my second class this semester. I should preface this by saying that my class was the first and only class he had taught at JHU, and he was probably the most unpopular professor in the history of the school. Nice enough guy, but horrible teacher. I won't go into all of the details, but suffice it to say that the rumor is, he will not be teaching any more classes at the school. So, having received not only my final exam grade but also my final semester grade in my finance class and nothing from this professor - let's call him "Bow-tie" - I e-mailed him Sunday night (and yes, these are actual e-mails and responses):

Deb:

Prof,
Can you please send my final exam back to me if I send you a self addressed stamped envelope? I like to obsess over the answers I got wrong and beat myself up about it until my husband gets tired of listenin to me berate myself and pours me several cocktails. Crazy, I know, but it works for us =)

Bow Tie:

Liquor is quicker. Don't obsess too much.

Two days later I get this message:

Bow Tie:
91

A very good job. Overachievement, or achievement? Either way, very good.

Uh..Thanks?

So then I realize that I have completely miscalculated my grade and even though I bombed the midterm I have an 89.2 (or thereabouts, depending upon my class participation grade, which I gave myself about 80% on to be conservative) and can still pull an A and walk away with a 4.0 for this semester if he gives me just a little more credit for my class participation. Then I get my final grade.

B+

WTF? A B+???? It's worse than a "B" because it means I was this close. At least with a B I would have known I wasn't even close to the Nirvana that is an "A". You couldn't have pulled one more measly little point out of your ass and given me an "A"? B+ is like saying "Oh my, well if you had only tried a LITTLE bit harder I could have given you an "A", but alas, you suck, so here's a B+".

I'm off to a great start.

• Doctor

So Olivia's ear starts draining over the weekend. Gallons and gallons of pink tinged greenish goo. And she's stuffy. And I find out that she has been exposed to Strep (Yeah, thanks for that.) She has not complained of a sore throat or had a fever, but after the scare earlier this year, I'm not taking any chances. So off we go to the doctor Monday morning to get her checked out. I should tell you that I have been through the ear infection thing with her on several occasions before and I know that they don't typically treat it with anything. But, even I know that when your child wakes up looking like she's been fighting ghosts next to Dan Akroyd and losing, it's time to go to the Doctor.

Who says she has Strep. And a nasty ear infection, with a ruptured ear drum. Which the doctor wants to consult with another doctor about before we leave. Say it with me now, "Lovely". We get antibiotics for the Strep, antibiotic ear drops for the ear, a follow up appointment for Olivia on Monday and an appointment later in the day for Sydney and I to get strep tests. Oh, and did I mention that dress rehearsals are this week and the recital is this weekend? Right. Get my children on meds NOW. So, Sydney and I come back with a negative Strep, but we still get antibiotics and they send our tests out to be cultured. I am typically against any sort of antibiotics unless it's a proven fact that they are needed (Stop taking those antibiotics for a cold, people - you're creating super bugs! It's not helping you to take them so suck it up and take some aspirin! ) Sydney and I will not start our meds unless the cultures come back positive.

At 5:00 last night Olivia starts throwing up - not from the meds - she hadn't had a dose yet (pharmacy snafu - don't ask!) She didn't stop until almost 5 this morning - you could have set your watch to her. Every hour on the hour. She slept on one couch downstairs and I slept on the other. My reasoning was:

1) We were close to a bathroom

2) She always runs to me when she feels like she's going to puke, so I just cut out the hallway upstairs and my bedroom, thereby saving the carpet on the second floor

3) She needed me - I'm her Mommy =)

4) we were pretty darn comfortable!

Well, let me rephrase number 4 - I was apparently VERY comfortable because I fell into a coma after her tenth trip to the bathroom. I believe I remember hearing her jump up at about 4 o'clock a.m., grab her bucket, run to the bathroom and retch, run some cold water over a fresh washcloth to wipe her face and then trot back out to the couch. Being the good mommy I am, I reminded her that her bucket was still in the bathroom.

Move over Dinah Lohan - I'm a'nipping at your heels for Mother of the Year.

• Parking Deck Attendant

So, despite the fact that Liv was up all night puking, I was home from work two days and things are in general disarray around here, Sydney's dress rehearsal was tonight, and we had to go (see pictures below). The theater is located downtown next to a parking deck. As I pulled in and took my ticket at about 4:50, I read the sign about the parking deck charges. It said:

9 to 6 $1.00 for the first hour

$ .75 each hour thereafter

After six $1.00 - exact change only

As a native Fredericktonian who used to frequent the bars downtown - frequently - I smiled at all the old memories of parking in the deck, perusing the entertainment downtown as we went from bar to bar to bar, then stumbling back to our cars at 2:00 in the morning at which point everyone would frantically search for the dollar we knew we had saved to "get out of the deck". It's been $1.00 to get out of the deck on evenings and weekends since I was a an innocent wee lass of 21 - some five ...no ten ....well, um, it's been that way for a lot of years OK?

Sydney has her dress rehearsal and she is FANTASTIC. The kid should be in pictures. She could have performed the dance by herself - kicked all those other kids who were crying and "scared" off the stage and shown them how it's done - while I stand in the back of the theater screaming "Sing out Rose Louise!" - no wait - that's Gypsy...anyway - she was great.

We get in our car and I call Brian to see if he's thought about dinner (I know I was home all day, but I was taking care of a sick child! I didn't have time to think about dinner! Olivia needed her sleep and I, well, I needed to catch up on some reading..and... things...) As I pull to the gate the timer on the gate keepers castle reads "5:59". So I smile and say to the very large, mean looking woman and the quiet little man sitting opposite her "Oh! It's almost 6:00. Can I just sit her for the next thirty seconds so that I only have to pay a dollar to get out? Ha ha?"

At which point parking lot attendant lady just about comes through the glass, spit flying saying "I need your ticket! I don't know why all you peoples (yes, "peoples") keep a'thinking it's only a dollar to get out this deck after 6:00".

When I got over the shock of her CLEARLY unfounded tirade at me and picked my jaw back up I said politely "B-B-B-because that's what the sign says?" (I was scared!)

At which point her head spins completely around and she launches into Tirade #2 with "That's only if you come in after 6:00. You gotta pay what your ticket says".

OK, now I'm getting a little pissed. If all us "peoples" read the sign the same way, then don't you think perhaps its an issue with THE SIGN??????

And my husband is still on speaker phone in the car,which comes through my stereo speakers - great for hands free driving, bad for situations where not only can he hear what's going on in and around my car, but she can also hear every...word...he says... And he's not really "tactful", my Brian, God love'm. I was terrified he would blurt out "Who is THAT bitch? Tell her to get a real job and shut the hell up". Thankfully he didn't, but at this point I want to get out of there before he says something that will get me beaten up.

So I politely say through gritted teeth as I hand her my ticket and three dollars (which is all I have on me) "Well then the sign isn't really that clear. Here you go."

She Barks "Well, I am not HERE to ARGUE with YOU!"

"Really?" I say, "Because you are." Big Smile.

At which point she hands me my change, and I drive away. As I get to the stop light, I look down at the money she's unceremoniously shoved back into my outstretched hand. And guess how much it cost me to park in the deck and be subjected to that?

A dollar. Go figure.