A Picture From The "What The Hell?" File....

The hand on John's back pulled him closer, and he knew he could resist no longer. John realized the bitterness, the years of fighting, the hurt, it was all just passion misdirected. John struggled to place his own hand all the way around George's expanded waistline, and he realized what a good life his conqueror had lived the last 8 years. John had been vanquished, but he wanted a good life too.

"I.......I....did father an illegitimate black baby, didn't I?" John whispered softly as his head settled into George's soft warm shoulder. "And......I am against breast cancer research....just like you said."

"You're damn right bitch" The words came sternly out of George's mouth. He was the decider. "Tell me who's your Daddy"

"You're my Daddy George." John started to weep softly.

"That's what I want to hear. I'm your Daddy.....and you're going to make me forget all about mine"

George and John then went backstage. What happened next was both a beginning and an an end, but the passion was unchanged. The passion was eternal.

So I'm Still Not Sure Why You'd Want To, But You Can Follow Me Now On The Twitter If You Want.

Some of you may think it's a sign of my impending suicide, but really I just figured if it's good enough for Katie the Jewgirl, it's good enough for me.

Go here if you can't get enough of the Drugmonkey. The picture really is of me.

Sometimes The Customer Is Not The Idiot, Part Three

I lived half of every pharmacists nightmare tonight. Misfill. An absolute, tee-total, unqualified no excuses prescription filled incorrectly. Yay for me that I wasn't the one who filled it wrong. Woe for me that I was the one working when it was brought to our attention. Written for Lipitor 20mg and filled with 40mg instead. The customer was given 100% more drug than he was meant to take. Here's where it gets interesting though. You know what he did?

In a world where we have to specify that antibiotic liquids have to be taken by mouth and not put in the ear "because that's where the infection is......"

In a world where we have to be sure to tell people that they have to unwrap and remove the foil from a suppository before they stick it up their ass.......you know what this customer did?

To those of you in the profession, what I'm about to write may be the least believable thing you have ever seen on this blog, but I swear it's the truth.

The customer saw the 40mg tabs, realized they were wrong, broke them in half, and took them, 20 mg at a time, mentioning the mistake only when he came in to get his refill "because I know that type of thing is important to you"

If Nobel Prizes went to pharmacy customers, there would be no question as to its first recipient.

I've Been Thinking A Lot Today About How Good A Lighthouse Operator I Would Be, And I Don't Know Why.

I don't mean I don't know why I would be a good lighthouse operator. There is no doubt in my mind I would be the most kick-ass lighthouse operator in maritime navigation history. I could sit there, at the top of my lighthouse all day long, with a book or something, and when I saw a ship on the horizon, I would know in the marrow of my bones that there would be no way it would hit any rocks. Because I would have a backup light bulb next to me. Just in case.

It wouldn't be all business though. As the ships passed by I could tap out things like "You suck" in Morse code using my giant light. If the ship's Capitan figured it out, he wouldn't be mad, because I had done such a good job of making sure he didn't become grounded, and because he would realize that injecting a little fun into the day is one of the things that made me the world's best lighthouse operator.

They'd probably put me in the goddamn lighthouse operator Hall of Fame.

What I mean is that I don't know exactly why these thoughts became so embedded in my mind today. I've known for years what a good lighthouse operator I would be, but today I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. Maybe the lighthouse is actually some sort of phallic symbol, and I realized today that the way to safe harbor for someone I know is through my penis.

I think I should use one of those glow in the dark condoms if that turns out to be the case.

Sometimes I Forget Why I Hate Him So Much.

Because really, I try not to look at him unless I have to, and with his star fading like a Chinese made bargain T-shirt in a washing machine full of hot water, he's becoming easier and easier to ignore.

But every once in awhile I get a reminder, like when I came across this today:

"We need to counter the shock wave of the evildoer by having individual rate cuts accelerated and by thinking about tax rebates"

That's an actual real quote from the mouth of the um.....man....who thinks himself a great wartime president less than a month after the country he led suffered the worst attack in its history. There were probably still bodies lying in the rubble of the World Trade Center when he said that.

The other part of his plan involved invading the wrong country in revenge. That's what happens when you put an idiot in charge. Turns out he couldn't read a map.

Neither could Hillary, as she let the idiot lead her in into the failed fatal geography lesson as well.

You know what to do if you're up on the 4th.

Finish her off.

A Quick Question For My Friends In The Insurance Industry

If you can print off a letter that says someone is covered, and that their card containing all the info needed to file a claim on their behalf is on the way, and that while this letter doesn't contain a scrap of information your pharmacist will need to file any claims, you should bring it to the store with you and wave it around like a lunatic anyway.....

Is there some reason.....you couldn't take the time and resources that you used to print and mail this useless letter and do something like.....


......oh I dunno.....maybe......


PRINT THE ACTUAL FUCKING CARD?.......AND MAIL THE ACTUAL FUCKING CARD? THE SAME WAY YOU MAILED THIS GODDAMN LETTER????

Call me crazy, but I'm thinking it could be done. Some nights just lend themselves to big dreams I guess.

I Think I Got Ambien Up My Nose.

I used to work the graveyard shift in the ghetto a few years back, and let me tell you, there is nothing like practicing pharmacy in the ghetto in the middle of the night. I actually kinda miss it. Not once since I left the ghetto have I faced a decision like what to do when I saw someone receiving oral sex in the drive through. For the record, I decided interrupting might not be the best idea, and really, it was like free porn. Some people probably pay good money to watch stuff like this. In the end, my eyes met the um.....receiver's and I gave him a thumb's up. He gave me one back and drove off a few minutes later.

Or the time an employee found a bag of cocaine while cleaning the shelves in the cosmetic section. It was shocking.....absolutely shocking.... that an employee was cleaning a store shelf. Damn if you couldn't eat off them for a few weeks after that though. Good times.......good times.....

The only thing I have to remember those days now though is an old prescription bottle of Ambien. I used to use the Ambien to help me sleep in the daytime back in the ghetto days. I opened it up just now to take a look and relive the memories, and all the sudden my nose started burning. Some of the ancient Ambien powder must have drifted into my nose and now it hurts like hell.

I'm sleepy all the sudden.

I Have A Better Idea Than Superdelegates. I Call It Super Whoopass.

We all know the deal. For the first time in a generation, one of the political parties may open their convention this summer without knowing who their nominee for president will be. It happens to be the party I belong to, and one of the contenders is someone I started rooting for long ago. Thing is, while I've been a political nerd longer than I've been an adult, I've never come this close to actually being on the winning side of a presidential campaign. It's a bit of an odd feeling. Normally the race for the White House for me involves a few weeks of hope, a crushing defeat in New Hampshire, and four years of sulking. This time though, we could win, and I have a plan to make it happen.

We fight them. When we get to the convention we physically fight the delegates pledged to Hillary Clinton. We pummel them until they concede defeat. Even if slightly outnumbered, I feel good about this. Remember her strongest demographic is the elderly.

I'm tired of her and her crap. We lock the doors, turn on the cameras, and sell the rights on pay-per view. Both to help finance the campaign and to let McCain see what he's in for. It'll be cathartic, unifying to the party in a way that mere words could never be. In the manner of two drunk dudes who get beer muscles then leave their neighborhood bar arm in arm, Hillary will have no choice but to respect us after we beat up her delegates. We stop only when she finally says she's sorry for voting for the war.

Then the strategy for November will involve triggering McCain's PTSD. I recommend appointing a campaign manager who's Vietnamese. He should be mean looking and talk with a heavy accent. We'll see if we can find a way to get some of his speeches piped into McCain's hotel room in the middle of the night. When it's good and dark. Getting physically violent with McCain will probably be less effective, as honestly, I don't have any ideas on what to do to him that haven't already been tried. I'm thinking there's still some room to fuck with his mind though. More every day actually, as his date with Alzheimer's draws ever closer.

Maybe there's a reason I've never been on the winning side of a presidential campaign. Or maybe I am the next Karl Rove.

Tonight A Customer Cracks The Secret Code Needed To Obtain Coverage In The American Health Care System.

One of the great joys of my profession is the fact that while other healthcare professionals may have a little sign in front of the receptionist saying that payment is expected at the time services are rendered, few have the ability to file and adjudicate your health insurance claim on the spot, instantly determining your eligibility and financial liability. Customers appreciate this, and it never fails to lead to many a lively discussion during the workday regarding the scope and amount of their coverage.

What I just said in that last sentence is that customers bitch about their insurance coverage. A lot. Many times at high volume.

The conversations are usually very predictable, and over the general din of pharmacy sounds this afternoon I hear one going on in the background, It's kind of like the pharmacy equivalent to crickets chirping outside a country cabin late in a summer's evening, just part of the expected background noise:

"Sir your insurance company says your coverage has expired."

"WHAT?!!"

"Blue Cross says you're no longer covered. Do you have a new card?"

"No" The customer usually then will just stand there, expecting that that answer will still get them their meds at their usual co-pay. It must be explained again to them at this point that without a valid insurance card, they are liable for the entire cost of their prescription.

This is what today's customer said next, complete and unedited. I double checked with my keytstone tech to make sure I heard him correctly:

"There was a senior citizen behind me last time, would that have made any difference?"

I had no choice. I instantly stepped in and reinstated the man's insurance coverage. He had a senior citizen behind him last time. He had figured out the Da Vinci code of health care. What every insurance company employee and health care professional knows and is sworn never to tell. Senior Citizen behind you = full coverage. Having an old geezer stand behind every American was actually the cornerstone of presidential candidate John Edward's health care plan.

I still don't know exactly what point the customer was trying to make, and I haven't had any scotch in a week.

That streak will end tonight.

Actually, If He Had Had A Drug Problem, He Might Have Kept His Job.

However, it seems like he was having his porn sent to the store. It came in a discreet brown envelope. Maybe a bit too discreet, as the store manager opened it and was a little....um.....taken aback at what she saw.

My sources tell me it was mature plumper porn.

The Drugmonkey learned two things this night.

1) They still make porno magazines. People still pay for them. Evidently there are just not enough naked people on the internet you can see for free.

2) It is possible for a pharmacist to be fired for something that doesn't involve drugs and/or theft.

I have the feeling there may be some overtime in my future.