Buffistas, meet our new Prime Minister

Wowza!

Yay, Canada!

I’ve been so depressed lately over the Donald Trump thing, so thanks, Canada, for showing me that people won’t necessarily vote for the racist fuckface.

Frankly, I'm a bit ambivalent about him. We'll see how he does in power.

At least he's decorative.

Too bad about your MP.

That's SOME Prime Minister!

I was thinking about the fetal alcohol thing because there is some new link going around Facebook about how just one drink is not allowed etc,etc.

Oh, look. Emigrating to Canada is back on the table.

The evidence for low-level alcohol use having much effect on the fetus is pretty shaky.

Colonial ciders and beers probably averaged 5% alcohol, and it was not uncommon to start the day with a quart of cider and a pound of bacon.

The loss of a Buffy-loving governmental official is always cause for sadness (and makes me wonder if we'll ever see a Buffy-loving president, and then makes me wonder whether, between his age and being the spouse of a damn cool woman and the father of two incipient ones, we might not have one already -- why has no intrepid journalist asked the hard-hitting questions that really matter?).

Ugh so tired. And not looking forward to work. Yesterday afternoon a package arrived containing two medical group applications that must be completed by Friday, or DIRE CONSEQUENCES. By hand, because apparently these people don't do writable PDFs.

Each one is 37 pages long.

I hate these people so much and want to stabbinate them hard. It's going to take roughly the same amount of time to complete both no matter what I do -- laboriously write it all out, or, box by box, convert the whole thing to a writable PDF and then fill it out twice by computer.

I called their office yesterday to see if someone could email me the forms, couldn't get through to a live human, and called the number their voicemail claimed was their new members office and got the Radiology department (twice, so, not my mistake -- they're sending people to the wrong place, which no doubt sucks even more for the radiologists).

(Also, they pre-filled out the forms with the names of the two doctors I work for, and spelled one guy's name wrong. On every one of those 37 pages. HAAAAAAATE.)

And, cereal because it in no way deserves to have to share space with my pathetic work rant:

Tons of health~ma and it's-nothing~ma to your DH, Sox, and calming, reassuring vibes to all of you.

Lots of ~ma for T, Sox. Let us know if there is anything we can do.

Health`ma for Sox's DH.