la_belle_laide | GRRR ARRRG.

I hate my school. I mean, no seriously, I hate my damn school and I can't wait to get the everchristing hell out of it and as far away as possible.

We had our exit interviews last week, which basically means that they sit us down and tell us which forms to fill out, where to send them, and the mad stupid amount of money required just for us to walk out the door. It's a good thing we had an entire class on how to leave, because this junk is so complicated, with all the forms and whatnot, that it's beyond "paper trail."

I was all happy because I never had to go through registration hell again? Yeah, this is just as nonsensical.

Here's the best part, though: I need my valid first aid/cpr card. Which, no problem, I took the class, right? Except they misspelled my name on both of them. When I brought the cards up to clinic, I told them that they'd been misspelled and said I'd probably need new ones. "Oh, that's no problem, dinnna worry lassie, we know who ye are, LOL."

Except now that I'm applying for a license, they need ones with, you know, my actual name on them. By October 29th.

So I called the school last week and left a message: "Please get back to me ASAP, I took the courses through the school and I need cards without a typo, thanks." No reply. I called again and left another message. Nothing. I called a third time and told the operator that I needed to talk to someone who was there, since no one had returned my calls. Still, no one picked up, I left another message saying that time was growing pretty damn short, and could someone please call me back.

Yeah, still nothing.

So I called again today and finally got someone.

Now they want FIVE DOLLARS FROM ME to print up a new card. I know, I know, it's only five lousy dollars, right? But this school has taken me for so much effing money over two years it isn't even true. I don't talk about this much, but they never refunded all of my money from the two aborted China trips – even though the contract I signed said that the money was refundable. They gave me a very small fraction of it back, probably about a quarter of it. The rest, the kept to cover their losses. When, you know, my Gran died a few days before the first trip I was supposed to go on, and my Dad died a few days before the second. And the money was refundable.

So when the guy told me this today, I got all "WHAAAAAAAT! WHAAAAAAAT!" And then he told me that it would probably take about fourteen days for me to get the cards even after I did pay. Which, I don't have fourteen days because this stuff needs to be in by Oct. 29th which means I have to send it by the 27th. This would not have been a problem if they would have called me the eff back last week, or if they hadn't made the dumbass typo to begin with.

I was mad. Mad. Finally he was like, "Well, I'll pay the five dollars."

Damn it, it's not about the five stupid dollars! It's about how this school didn't bother to take me out to dinner first before DOING SEX TO ME.

Then he told me to just call the Office of Professions and explain the situation. I did, but the office was closed, with no way to leave a message.

*punch punch punch punch* I want to beat the Christ out of this place. I just want to kick the whole building down like the Old Spice muscle guy.

Loathe!

Okay, okay, deep, calming breaths. That's what I tell my patients who have stress in their lives. Deep breaths, descend your qi, meditate. Relax your entire body, get rid of your thoughts, let them float away in a balloon every time they occur.

Have a cup of decaf tea. Drink a glass of wine. Put on Barry White and give me a kiss before DOING SEX TO ME.

Also I studied my face off for today's midterm, skipped happily off thinking it was my last midterm ever, only to have the written exam pushed back to next week because we ran out of time because the school was way too busy DOING SEX TO ME with the practical.

GRRR. ARRRG.

ETA: GAHHH While I'm ranting, one more thing. I'm bored and reading this stupid article about getting rid of wrinkles, thinking it's going to be about antioxidants, right? Nope, it's about cheap, quick fixes. Hey, I'm bored, right? I don't have a lot of wrinkles to worry about anyway. But this part made me LOL:

Linda Brantley, a 46-year-old physician's assistant, sees Dr. Northington for occasional laser-resurfacing treatments, ...after two weeks, she says the results are impressive and last for several months. "I'm never going to be 20 again but if I feel good in my skin then I project a positive feeling to someone else," she says.

LOL, okay honey, you keep telling yourself that you're getting lasers and junk in your skin or whatever because it makes other people feel better about themselves.

Moron.