There's gotta be a retarded centaur

Think about it...

I was reading up on my diabetes notes and there's an actual brand-name drug named "Mixtard".

Tell me you don't read that and think of a retarded centaur and I'll give you a dollar. All I can picture is a horse with a human torso who just happens to have Down's syndrome trying to walk and yeah...

But realistically, if centaurs exist - as in humans with horse bodies - there's bound to be a mentally challenged one here and there, and as intelligent/caring creatures, they aren't going to make like lions and eat their retarded babies. So, eventually, there will be a fully grown mentally retarded centaur.

I believe one of those centaurs was diabetic, and the other centaurs figured out a drug to save him, and we humans discovered it from them. So, of course, we called it Mixtard, as a homage to the true genius who discovered it - the centaurs.

Or maybe we homo sapiens are just a bunch of fucking idiots.

A Complete Waste of Money

As I watched the robot fill the 20th prescription for zolpidem for the day, I wondered exactly why so many members of the ever shrinking middle class insist on using it to fall asleep.

Granted, they aren't on the useless products of Zolpimist or Ambien CR, and they aren't spending an extra arm and a leg for Lunesta (eszopiclone - oh yeah, I've been studying up on the Top 200).

But still, why waste the money each month when, for a one-time payment of $180, a patient could get the best sleep aid I have ever come across? This sleep-aid can be used over and over again and never lose its effectiveness. Actually, I only paid $60 for mine, and it's even more effective at putting me to sleep than the $180 version.

That sleep aid is my Biochem textbook. I seriously believe that Lehninger could make much more money by marketing his book as a sleep aid.

He could even mark the international version (the one I own) as a fast-acting version, because nothing puts a person to sleep faster than an all black and white Biochem textbook.

I have a quiz tomorrow. I'm sure I'll be asleep in 20 minutes. Goodnight.

Sometimes I Hate The Pharmacist

Yeah, I said it. I get sick and tired of pharmacist that decides to check to make sure everything is done according to "the law" while she forces me to count benzonatate.

I'm sick of watching them check the prescription while I push little marbles around, trying count by five and hold on to my sanity at the same time. That isn't easy, and one of these days I'm going to snap. I don't care what you think your "job" entails, making me count out every single prescription for benzonatate is cruel, and one day you'll pay.

I can just imagine it, forcing a bottle's worth of pearls into the pharmacist's mouth and making her bite down on them. Oh, that would be sweet, sweet justice.

Finding Jesus

I was talking to a friend of mine who has found Jesus. He told me he's never been happier since he's found Him, and that life is beautiful. At first I sort of just ignored my friend; I don't push my beliefs on him, he shouldn't push his beliefs on me. After a while though, I started to think about it. My friend has been happier lately, and much more fun to be around. The best part is that he doesn't have any Bible versus memorized so I don't have to listen to those all the time. But after hanging around him lately I've decided to see if I could find Jesus.

At first, I looked in the obvious places. I went to all the churches, but didn't feel His presence or encounter Him. I then went to the local prison, because I've heard a lot of criminals find Jesus in prison. Apparently, you need to actually be incarcerated to find Jesus in prison, because I didn't sense Him there either, although a couple of the inmates asked me if I wanted to "sense" them, and yes, they air-quoted when they said it.

After a long day of trying to find Jesus I had given up. Perhaps some other day I would see the light, and it would guide me toward Him. It was a little chilly, and I had worn a jacket, and as I opened the closet door to put my jacket away I heard, "Fuck! I'm so bad at this game!"

Startled, I jumped back. "Who are you?! What game?!" I shouted.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega. Hide and go Seek is the game," said the man walking out of my coat closet. There seemed to be a spotlight behind him.

"Wait, whoa, Jesus?! I've been looking for you today! You were here the whole time? Wait, did you just say 'Fuck?'"

"Ah yes, I did say 'Fuck,' didn't I? But what sin is committed in swearing?"

Jesus had a point. I couldn't think of a single reason why swearing would be a sin.

"Would you like some wine?" He asked, as he tapped the kitchen faucet. I watched, breathless, as red wine flowed out in to the sink.

"Uh, sure," I choked out, "Hide and Seek? You play Hide and Seek?"

"Duh, dude," he replied, "Why do you think people are always trying to 'find' me? I thought it was pretty obvious."

I was beginning to feel pretty stupid, and as I took a sip of wine it just got worse. "This tastes like iron!" I exclaimed as I spit the wine all over my hands.

"Well come on dude, this is my blood; I need oxygen too, you know."

His logic was overwhelming, I could see why people pray to Him. "I'm sorry, but who exactly do you play Hide and Seek with? I mean, if it's just me and you wouldn't you win all the time? Because you're always the last one to be found?"

"Ah, another common misconception," he said. I began to wonder how many times He's had this conversation. I began to feel ashamed of all the times I've gotten annoyed with someone who called to see what time we closed. "I play with the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause, but those fuckers cheat because they only come out once a year, where I have to be out all year round. It's bullshit."

"Wait, the Easter Bunny is real? And Santa?" My disbelief was palpable.

"Oh for My sake, of course they are. Me," Jesus said, obviously annoyed.

"Did you just use your name in vain?"

"Technically, no, asshole," Jesus spat back.

"Whoa sorry dude," I replied as I went to the sink to wash the wine off my hands. "Hey! This is still wine! Can you change it back to water?" I asked.

"I just performed a miracle, and you want me to undo it? Fuck you dude. I'm out."

And then He was gone.

Paranoia

I was walking down the hallway today and saw a sign on a water fountain that said DONOT USE! Now, at first I thought that perhaps someone just forgot to put a space in between "DO" and "NOT." However, as the day passed I started to realize that perhaps they just misspelled "doughnut." It happens, spelling is hard, and often confusing.

I then wondered why doughnuts got their own water fountain. Yes, they are delicious, especially because they're pretty much a piece of cake shaped like a bagel with sugar coating the entire thing. That's pretty awesome, but why should that give them the sole right to a water fountain? The powers that be must be prejudiced against non-doughnut breakfast foods. They can't even argue "separate but equal," because the doughnut water fountain is closer to the bathroom and taller than the other. Can you imagine the strain bending over to drink from the smaller fountain will put on the average breakfast food's back? Do you think eggs can handle that when they can't even decide if they're healthy for you?

Cereal is completely screwed. Every time it wants a drink of water milk will spill out due to the increased angle it must dip to to receive the water, and we all know that milk is the life-blood of cereal. A couple drinks from water fountain and cereal will need a milk transfusion. Emergency rooms will need to stock more 1% milk, which is the universal donor of milk. The skyrocketing demand for 1% milk will cause hospitals to stockpile it, forcing them to use more energy to keep it refrigerated. Thus, more carbon will be spewed into the environment, causing more global warming.

Separate water fountains for breakfast foods is causing global warming. I brought this up to the Dean, and he gave me a blank look and told me to leave. I'm beginning to think that perhaps this is a conspiracy the doughnuts are using to destroy the world. Doughnuts are notoriously bad spellers, so it makes perfect sense.

Or maybe someone just forgot to hit the spacebar.

A Letter To Watson

Dear Watson,

Not to be a stickler, but why oh why do you manufacture BuPROPion 150mg SR with two different NDCs? Because of this, my robot will not let me add your drug into it until it runs out of that same drug with a different NDC. So as I wait for 3 or 4 more prescriptions of BuPROPion 150mg SR to come in, I stand and look at the other bottles of BuPROPion 150mg SR sitting on my shelf. They turn green with envy as I tell them I cannot dispense them until I have run out of the other NDC. It is obvious they do not like this.

Watson, why must you put this strain upon me and my drugs? I fear a civil war will break out amongst the BuPROPion 150mg SR species. I fear for the safety of my drugs as well as my coworkers. There could be much powder spilled. It does not need to be this way. You can stop this.

Please, please, for the sake of your children, make only one NDC. Many lives will be saved.

Sincerely,

PDS

Bad Hair Day

We got another new tech intern today. She seems nice. After saying that I almost feel bad about making fun of her. But dear lord, do you really think it's even remotely normal to wear your hair that way? I mean... Picture this combined with this, without the MC Hammer lines. Instead of that those, she has long hair there too. That's right, she has shaved the top of her head, but left the sides, back and front of her hair normal. Did I mention her hair is mostly gray? Yeah. I was almost speechless when I first saw her, but I managed to choke out a "Hi, I'm PDS."

I thought that was it. I was wrong. An hour after I arrived a very feminine-looking man came in with his head shaved and bangs longer than hers. He also had a chin-strap beard and mustache. I decided the reason he still looked quite womanly was due to the extremely thin plucked eyebrows. I just stared at him.

Then I saw his son. Mohawk-mullet. I shit you not. The kid had a mullet and a mohawk. I stared once more.

I don't know what it is about summer that make people make such bad decisions, but I hope I'm never that "creative."

****
I got poison ivy on my arm recently. I've never had poison ivy, so I scratched the shit out of it right away, and now it covers a relatively large portion of my arm. Instead of using calamine lotion or hydrocortisone, I just grabbed a "Poison" sticker from our collection of stickers and prescription taped it all up. This didn't help with the itchiness, but it made for some fun conversations at the register.

I'm starting to work a lot more 8 hour shifts as people take their vacations, and I noticed that we never sell any condoms, but we sure run out of them. So, I decided to have a little experiment. I put "For Anal Use ONLY" stickers on 1/3 of the condoms, "For Vaginal Use ONLY" on 1/3 of them, and "For External Use ONLY" on the remainder. We'll see if we've got more anal, vaginal, or masturbating patients who steal in a few days.

Perhaps I've Had One Too Much

Nah... Drinking Grey Goose on the rocks and reading pharmacy blogs is what a normal person does on a, what day is this? Wednesday? ok, Wednesday night (fuck it, Thursday morning).

I finally happened upon JP's Too Adult postings. Holy fuck was I born in the wrong generation or what? Free love, amazing music, slutty bitches that do your bidding, no matter what their relation with any other guy? Um, yes please, I'll take two.

There have been a few girls I've "fallen" for. By "fallen," I mean, I really really really wanted to be with, not because they were extremely attractive, but because I could talk to them for hours upon hours and just not run out of material. Yes, most (read: all) these girls were attractive, but that's really just an added bonus (or requirement, one of the two).

The problem with the PDS is that he can't find a girl to "fall" for that isn't involved with someone else. One has a boyfriend, one is engaged, one has a husband, one is waiting for a military grunt to come back. I believe it's a curse. I don't know if it's that everyone that I like is involved, or that I only like involved people. Fuck me right?

I've tried to talk to the floozy chicks at the bar and found them extremely boring. Most dress up in some scandalous outfit that attracts the primitive part of the male brain, and I'm not about to argue with that part of my brain at the moment, but once they actually open their mouth, I realize that they have no common sense and no sense of humor beyond shitty romantic comedies. This I cannot handle. I'd rather be single my entire life than have to deal with that bullshit. What I need to do is go back in time and hang out with JP and get in on the swinger action. That way I get to be involved with involved chicks, which is apparently what I want. What do you say JP? Wanna invent a time machine?

An Introduction To A Co-worker

Apparently I have a strange sense of humor. Either that, or one of the techs I work with, Gingersnaps (quite obviously not her real name, just thought I'd point that out), has no sense of humor. One of the two.

Students are, of course, in charge of putting the drugs we get delivered every day on the shelves and in the robot. Today, we got in a large amount of hydrocodone/APAP 5/500, because it's always good to have extra on hand. I'm sure everyone that reads this blog knows at least a little about pharmacy, since I got my first comments after the Drugmonkey gave me a shoutout. Thanks for that, by the way. Anywho, you all know that the docs prescribe that shit like it's candy, magical pain-relieving candy.

After filling the robot as full as possible with the magic candy, I went to put the rest of it on the shelf we reserve for robot drugs. However, there was no room on the shelf for it, so I threw it on top, thinking anyone would look up there, considering that's where we keep all the shit that comes in bottles too big to fit in the shelf.

In the next hour or so, we went through a shit-ton of magic candy. Yes, "shit-ton" is an actual measurement; it's between "crap-load" and "fuck-load," but I digress. So Gingersnaps comes up to me as I'm doing a refill for someone who wanted That One Pharmacist, and asks where the Vicodin is, because she wants to put more into the robot.

"I ate it," I say, then I try my best to glaze my eyes over. I then turned to her, and said "All of it."

She just stared at me, so I laughed and said it's on the top of the shelf. She replies "Oh," and walks away. No smile, no "Oh, that was a joke!" just "Oh."

I bombed. Took a swing and missed, but now I can make fun of her for not having a sense of humor, unless that wasn't as funny as I thought it was... hmm...