Dangers of the Drive-Thru Pharmacy

This drive-thru pharmacy may look innocent enough, with only one car in line, but gentle reader I warn you: naked to the eye, there is danger!

You see, or actually you can’t see, what this is hiding: the build up of…COMPLAINING.

When one uses the drive-thru pharmacy the most important aspect of the experience is lost: that of complaining about your ailments to the pharmacist and your fellow pharmacy customers.

It’s just not the same to go to the window as it is going inside. Take for example going to the McDondald’s or other fast food drive-thru and complaining:

Speaker: Welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order

Driver: Yeah, I’ll have the Big Mac combo, make it large fries and a Coke.

Speaker: Will that be all?

Driver: Ah no, now that you mention it, how ’bout a McFlurry too. Put all the candies in there.

Speaker: That’s all?


(Driver drives his car to the window)

Innocent Underpaid Employee: Your total is $7.62

Driver: (handing over money) You know, you got a lot of nerve being open. This is going to severely impact my diet and it’s all your fault!

IUE: Um, do you not want it.

Driver: Well I have to take it now don’t I? We’ve entered into a verbal contract and I would be some kind of jerk if I didn’t take the food.

Or something like that. My experience with the pharmacy was driving my grandmother to get her diabetes medication. She always insisted the innocent young Asian woman in white, behind the tall counter, was giving her the wrong prescription. And the poor woman every time told her she was giving her exactly what her doctor had prescribed. But my grandmother wasn’t going to hear it. Because then she might have to accept the fact that her still eating candy may be the culprit instead of the incorrect dosage. Then she might realize that she was not fooling me when she would show me the package of sugar-free candy to ask if I’ve ever tried them because they’re delicious in the hopes I wouldn’t notice the bag of fun-sized Snickers. And she might even have to realize that there’s sugar in things like soda and alcohol and candy wasn’t the only culprit.

But it wasn’t just the pharmacist: the seniors that would frequent the drug store at that hour were there to bond with each other. Compare bottles. Compare dosages. And of course, the grandaddy of them all, Compare number of medications taken.

So gentle reader, go inside. Take your relatives inside. Because if that complaining bottles up, you know who’s going to pay-YOU.

P.S. Drive-In pharmacies really are for wimps. Get out of the car. If you’re using the drive-up you probably need the exercise.

The Loneliness of the Brita

Loneliness of the Brita

I have been self-employed nearly all my adult life. For the most part, it’s wonderful, but there is that missing element: water-cooler kibitzing (or gossip.) It’s just not the same around the Brita in the kitchen. I already know that I saw last night’s Mad Men, and no, my God, I can’t believe that Don Draper did that. I already know the boss is an a$$ and isn’t fooling anyone by saying he’s really going to swear off junk food this time. I already know Jeff thinks the girl in the cubicle (apartment) next to him is hot and yes, he is way too old for her and she’s just being nice.

So what is a self-employed performer and writer to do. Well, blog. This way I can say what’s on my mind and maybe soon people will  start commenting and I’ll have someone to talk to.

How are you? Really, well you look great! No that dress does not make you look fat but yeah, dude, you should hit the gym.

Ok here’s what’s on my mind:

I think that when someone throws a cigarette out their car window it should fly back in and burn them. Just an “ouch” so they won’t do it again. You made the choice to smoke and, um, there’s an ASHTRAY in there.

I believe that if you continuously wear sunglasses inside when it’s unnecessary something will eventually happen to your eyes to cause long-term damage. So stop it. I say that for your health.

Musician and magician are only different by two letters. But one gets the girls and the other doesn’t. I better just accept that or take up the guitar.

I don’t have a car right now and have to take public transportation for the first time in many years. Just a quick note to riders because I believe it’s good advice: if you’re overweight you should just go ahead and walk those couple of blocks instead of waiting for the bus.

The 1% doesn’t really care that you’re mad. They can afford security.

I think all the women in Los Angeles that carry their dogs around in their purses should have to get in there sometime and be carried around. Might be me, but I don’t think it’s comfortable for (wo)man or beast.

Ok it is both scary and cute when they do pop out of the purses like a little puppet show. I expect them to jump out and run to pull the curtain back on the Wizard.

My grandmother once told me I was going to be famous in ten years, she could feel it. She was also drunk.

I lived through the 80’s and never once go to “Wang Chung” tonight. That bums me out.

I think the word “poop” is hysterical. Every time. Poop.

A Conversation between Angels

“What do you think?”
“It’s nice. A bit bright, I’m from Seattle.”
“Ah. Did you see Marilyn Monroe?”
“I did. Makes you wish we didn’t all have these same gowns.”
“I hear you. What about Elvis and those sideburns?”
“I know! We all get to fix one thing we didn’t like, you’d a thought he’d choose that. Look at Michael Jackson and his old nose?”
“He looks great! What did you choose?”
“Got my hair back. You?”
“Got some improvements downstairs, Marilyn’s gown has got to fly up sometime.”

Monday doesn’t like Monday

Once upon a time there was a day called Mon.  He was lazy, tired and sad.  No one liked him and even the other days made fun of him.  He yelled at them, “but we’re all the same!” Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday looked at the other three and the Weekend just laughed and they joined in even loud.

Monday hung his head and went off by himself. Cal Endar saw him sitting alone and came to sit beside him.  “Why so glum chum,” Cal said.

“I want to be popular like the other guys.”

“Oh Monday,” Cal said, “they all have their problems.  You just can’t see them. Tuesday is when the work day really begins and so there’s so much pressure to perform. Thursday’s the same after Wednesday being hump day and not knowing what that means. Friday is so over-stimulated with anticipation and the last two are sooo  built up with expectation they can barely stand the pressure. So you see they all have their own difficulties to deal with.”

Monday looked at him, then looked at the ground, then looked back at him. “I’d still rather be Friday or Saturday, they get all the girls.”

The End.

Exciting New Study

A recent study in England has revealed some exciting results: It’s not our fault. Scientists found that a blow to the brain has been passed on from generation to generation. When parents in the earlier part of the 20th Century would smack their kid on the side of the had and say “what’s a matter with you”, this caused a blow to that part of the brain responsible for manners and consideration.

So you see it’s not our fault that we talk too loud on cellphones, drop litter carelessly, throw cigarettes out the car, leave things for others to pick up and fail to say please or thank you. All the rude and inconsiderate things we do were caused by our grandparents and great-grandparents. But the researchers behind this study have published that we should still leave flowers on their graves and remember them fondly. Those generations didn’t know it was wrong to give a kid the occasional smack, it was perhaps caused by their relatives.

The Demands of Pre-School

sign advertising skills learned in pre-school

The pressure!

This blog is sub-titled “A comedic perspective” and I’m so glad to have found the above photograph to display just how my mind works.  I apologize for the blurriness and perhaps if enough people support this website Apple will send me a new iPhone with the better camera.

I’ve tried to highlight the two key words “COMPUTERS” AND “POTTY TRAINING” that caught my eye on a billboard advertising the benefits of this Montessori school. First of all, and speaking of Apple, I want one of these computer stands (or would that be sits) that you can work with while sitting on the toilet waiting for things to happen. Such advantages: it must be really comfortable so as not to disturb the training and magazines have been on the way out for the last fifteen years anyways. But I’m not looking at it from a three year old’s side.  This is like the workhouses of the twenty-first century! These poor children are trying to figure out the mechanics of pooping and their teachers are demanding they edit a film (it is Montessori after all, they should know basic Math at this age.) Then again maybe I’m not looking at it from the perspective of trying to aid a child in reaching it’s potential. I know that I always found it fascinating that while I’m juggling my left brain is occupied with the pattern of the objects and that releases my right brain and stimulates me to come up with some of my most creative ideas. Perhaps the creative activities they are pursuing on the computer, like editing, writing, or playing Angry Birds frees up their left brain to go about its duties and assist with the basic bodily functions almost without the child’s knowledge and soon the muscle memory takes over.  Maybe these kids are out of their diapers before they’re even two.

Which brings me to the other reason the sign made me curious.  Since when do children have to go to school to be potty-trained? Are parents that busy? Are they too weak to lift the child as our country reaches forty percent obesity? Is there a new method that I’m not aware of that can’t be taught at home? Is it European, cause that usually accounts for the latest craze. From my involvement with Montessori schools as a professional magician I picture it going something like this:

Teacher: Trevor, do you have to go?

Trevor: No.

Teacher: Trevor, I’d like to invite you to use the potty.

Trevor: No.

Teacher: Let’s discuss your feelings.

I don’t remember being potty trained, my only memory of that age is the ducky that I eventually had to throw away because of my having drooled all over it. Perhaps if I’d gone to Montessori school I’d still have it. But we didn’t go to any pre-school, we just started in plain ole kindergarten where we took naps and pushed trucks around. I don’t think I could handle the pressure these children face today.