Who Here Loves The Twitter?

Go here if you don't know what I'm talking about. If you're too lazy to click on the link imagine being able to broadcast the text messages on your cellphone to anyone in the world who wanted to sign up to get them. You don't have to know the person to subscribe. You don't even have to subscribe. You can sit at your home computer and watch 160 character messages roll in from strangers all over the world.

I'm going to bed.

I just had a taco.

You never dance with anyone with a neck tattoo.

I'm praying the babies sleep the night.

Party at my house. You're invited.

Bill Cosby is so freakin' funny.

This is the kind of thing you'll see on twitter. I'm serious. I just wasted 5 minutes of my life I'll never get back on this, and I was pretty disappointed in myself until I realized something. I think Twitter would be the perfect way to leave a suicide note.

I can't take it anymore.

I have a handful of pills.

I'm getting sleepy.

Goodbye.

One last shooting star across the techno world that has crushed our humanity and then you're gone forever. I gotta admit I love the idea, and I gotta admit I've been feeling a little blue tonight, until this little creative jolt made me laugh a little. Suicidal thoughts cheering me up this night. I never said I wasn't a freak.

I can't imagine any other reason you would sign up for twitter though.

I Never Thought I Would Miss The Weather Report.

Especially since there really isn't any weather in California. It gets a little warmer, it gets a little cooler, sometimes it rains. Almost every night at work though, I got a report that "It's a little cool out there." At first I admit I found it annoying. I find almost everyone annoying. Night after night though, the little old man in the 1930's style cap shuffling around the shopping center to get his exercise wore me down. He knew the way to get to me was to give me an opportunity to bitch about work.

"Looks like you're awful busy, but at least you got an inside job. It's a little cool out there tonight."

I think the first words I might have said to him were "You got the busy part right" He took that little crack in the drugmonkey toughguy act and used it to drive a wedge through my whole wall against the outside world. The chats gradually got a little longer. One time I saw him coming up the aisle with a big old smile on his face. He opened up his outer coat to show me his original letter jacket from high school. I admit he looked so cute I just burst out laughing. It was a little cool out that night.

I learned he was in his 90's

He was born in the town where I work and had lived there his whole life.

He used to run track. That's where the letter jacket came from.

I never saw him with anyone else.

I never saw him get a prescription.

I never knew his name.

And tonight I realized I haven't seen him in a few days. Crap. It doesn't take my Mensa card to figure out what's happened. That jacket is most likely headed to one of the thrift shops on the other side of town. And no matter what I do in the next 40 years or so, I will end up in the exact same place. I'm not saying I'll end up in the thrift shop. That'd be kinda gross. You know what I mean. Ashes to ashes.

So why am I gonna schlep off to the pillbox of sweat tomorrow like a good little boy? Why don't I just stay up all night jamming tunes too loud, pack up my car and head to the Grand Canyon in the morning? I'd like to see the Grand Canyon. You know I've never smoked weed? Seriously, not once. Why not? Am I afraid of some father of the skies keeping a ledger on my life's rights and wrongs? Um, no. I'm an atheist. So why exactly don't I just empty out my bank account on a few high class hookers and a couple laps around the world? Why get close to anyone at all? You'll still end up just as alone. The same pile of ashes. I would be better off tonight if I had just growled at that old man the first time I saw him.

Other than AIDS. That would be a good reason to avoid the escorts, but I think you get my point.

It's not as cool tonight as it usually is.

A Day In The Ghetto With The Most Awesome Tech Ever.

I really enjoy the occasional assignments that take me back to my ghetto roots. Being a unilingual gringo, time spent in the Hispanic part of town can be the closest thing a retail pharmacist gets to being left alone to work in silence. Yeah, people are talking all around me, but I have no idea what is being said, allowing me a rare day of focusing on prescriptions as opposed to "WHERE ARE THE KLEENEX???"

By the way, I think "unilingual gringo" would be a really cool name for some sort of awesome sex game.

Most of this morning was spent in the noisy silence that belongs to one who does not speak the native language. About dinnertime though, A car pulls up to the drive through with what evidently is a happy sort of fellow behind the wheel.

"YADDA YADDA BLAH BLAH WORDS GRINGO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND" said the driver. This set off a sort of verbal explosion with the technician manning the window, who then said something like:

YADDAYADDAYADDABLAHBLAHBLAHYIYIYIYI
WORDSUNILINGULAGRINGOWOULDN'TUNDERSTAND
EVENTHOUGHUNILINGUALGRINGOWOULDMAKE
THEMOSTAWESOMESEXGAMEEVER
YADDAYADDAEYYIIIEYYIII
EYIIIIIIICARUMBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

Although I'm paraphrasing here, I cannot overstate the emotion with which these mystery words were delivered. The customer then said very softly:

yadda yadda. words gringo doesn't understand.

Then drove away.

"Um, V, is there something you want to tell me?" I said as the customer turned into the alley behind the building.

"These fuckers make me so mad!" said V, who proceeded to storm off to the bathroom.

I learned from the clerk manning the cash register the conversation went something like this:

Customer: "Yeah......I'm here to get my druuuuuugs.....some heroin.....my cocaine....."

V: "YOU STOP RIGHT THERE!!!!!! THIS IS A MEDICAL PHARMACY AND YOU WILL TREAT THIS PLACE WITH SOME RESPECT OR YOU WILL LEAVE!!!!!!"

Customer: "I'm sorry ma'am, we were just trying to be funny"

The most awesome customer takedown ever, and I missed it because I'm cursed with being unilingual.

I'm also very cunnilingual, but most, including myself, would consider this a good thing.

I really need to learn Spanish.

I Commit A Bit Of A Faux Pas In The Name Of Customer Service, And Other Highlights From The Weeks Pill Counting Action

The old bat at the counter was looking for come cockamamie pill concoction she had seen hustled on late night TV. Happens all the time. She was clutching an ad in her hand and was bellowing out the usual "DO YOU STOCK THIS?" The kind of thing that happens a few thousand times a week. This time I caught a break and saw the store manager out of the corner of my eye.

"There's your man right there ma'am" I said "He's the one to help you." It was then that I saw the words BETTER SEX FOR WOMEN Splashed across the top of the ad. Um, whoops.

I should also add the store manager is gay.

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Customer: "Can I mix some Absolut vodka with my prescription here?"

Me: "Probably not the best idea"

Customer: "Well is there maybe another type of alcohol I could use?"

I have to admit I admired the spirit behind that question.

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Customer: "What's a good topical antibiotic? My sister said to get one."

Me: "Try some Neosporin, it's down the first aid aisle"

Customer: "That's not what she said."

Release the scotch. Goodnight.

An Ode To Nuprin. We Hardly Knew Ye.

It all started with a request from one of my favorite customers. Yes I have favorite customers, some of which are not even hot women. "Can you help me find the Nuprin?" Said the woman, who may or may not have been hot.

It was a slow part of the day, only three of the six phone lines being lit up, so I decided to take a look. The name "Nuprin" flooded my brain with happy memories, like an old friend you haven't heard from in years. I soon found out why the old friend had gone silent. There was no Nuprin.

"This can't be happening, surely I'm just overlooking the Nuprin" I thought as I scanned, rescanned, and double scanned every last inch of the analgesic aisle.

You could say that Nuprin was responsible for me becoming a pharmacist. I remember as a young DrugMonkey the sense of awe and wonderment I felt knowing that one of the magical preparations kept in that mysterious world behind the counter was now available to me. I wanted to learn all I could about this new pain reliever.

It was little.

It was yellow.

It was different.

It was ibuprofen, and in 1984, Nuprin, along with it's partner Advil, took the pain relieving world by storm. I became drunk on the taste of drug knowledge learning about Nuprin had given me, and I soon applied to pharmacy school, starting me on the path to where I am today. So really, considering where I am today, you could say that Nuprin ruined my life. I don't blame it though. All Nuprin wanted to do was ease the world's pain just a little bit.

But now it was gone without a trace, and I didn't even notice it's passing. A frantic search of other retailer's pain relieving sections turned up only one empty slot where Nuprin should have been. Advil has gone on to bigger and better things, caplets, geltabs, a suspension even, and piece of shit over the counter meds like Milk of Magnesia and Epsom salts continue to thrive, but it would seem Nuprin is on it's last legs.

What the fuck is up with Epsom Salts anyway? Great cutting edge medicine you got there in the Epsom salts. Cutting edge from the Civil War. Dammit it's not fair!!! I could have done more. I should have done more.......for the Nuprin. Take your Milk of Magnesia and shove it up your ass.

Actually, don't. Neither one of us would be happy with the result.

Times may be tough Nuprin, but i know you're a fighter from the way you've taken on my toughest pain in the past. That empty slot I found tells me you're not completely gone. That empty slot represents hope. The hope of a young drugmonkey that thought pharmacy might be a good way to earn a living. Hope that is empty, but not completely written off.

Fuck Advil.

One More Reason To Hate Ford Motor Company, Besides The Taurus.

From the website of Democracy Now!, whose telecasts you should be watching or listening to daily:

Ford Motor CEO Saves Bush From Setting Himself on Fire

....the CEO of Ford Motor Company is being credited with literally saving President Bush's life. Alan Mulally said the president almost plugged an electrical cord into the hydrogen tank of a special Ford hybrid vehicle at the White House last week. Mulally said he violated protocol and grabbed the president"s arm to prevent Bush from setting himself on fire.

Let me tell you something Mr. CEO of Ford Motor Company. Protocol is there for a reason. Who the fuck do you think you are violating protocol when you are around the man serving in the office of President of The United States?

Next time you follow the fucking protocol bitch.

Remember, The Only Real Way To Support The Troops Is To Have A Yellow Ribbon On Your Car (Preferably SUV)

"I'm sorry sir, but he's retired. We cannot do more than a 3 month supply."

"He's active enough to be shipping out to Iraq tomorrow. What exactly is the definition of retired?"

Silence on the line.

"Did you hear the part where I said he's shipping out tomorrow? Now, we've been going back and forth with this for days now. You need to fucking get someone on this line who is going to solve this problem. Now."

At first I thought the request was some sort of a joke. The pudgy, I'm guessing early-to-mid 40's man in front of me had indeed been in about a week ago to ask for a four month supply of his Levoxyl and Vytorin to see him through his deployment. The insurgents most certainly must be on the run if we're shipping over people with thyroid and heart disease. I thought of the old Saturday Night Live skit about the attack of the elderly-in-walkers brigade.

First claim. Rejected. Call to help desk. Told to file two claims. One for 3 months supply of meds today, one for 1 month supply tomorrow. Did as told. Second claim. Rejected. Call to help desk. Need to research the problem and get back to me. Never got back to me. Third call to help desk. You can't do two separate claims because that would be fraud. Hold for supervisor. Supervisor on the line. Go to the top of this post.

Here's the thing. I don't support the troops. You heard me, I don't. You're doing a bad thing troops, and you need to stop. Actually I support this troop. I support that troop a lot. And these troops, I support them. The rest, not so much. Except for the guy in front of me. I sure seemed to be supporting him.

His daughter was there with him as he spent his last day in the United States at the pharmacy trying to get his prescriptions filled. She was maybe nine years old. I saw her face and I said a little prayer to a God I don't believe in that her father would come back. The same.

He told me they wouldn't let him on the plane without a four month supply of his meds. I could have stopped fighting with Tricare and done a little something against the war I supposedly am so opposed to. "Not my problem. That's what they told me pal." Was it professional responsibility or lack of conviction to follow through on what I say I believe that made me keep going until I found the one person at Tricare whose head wasn't up their ass? I don't know. But Dad is in Iraq tonight, doing who knows what, and partially thanks to me, he had no trouble getting on that plane. He shook my hand and gave me a sincere thank you.


Maybe I should just get one of those fucking ribbons now.

A Tale Of Drug Company Pud Sucking That Somehow Managed To Slip Beneath The Drugmonkey's Radar

It takes a village to keep up with Big Pharma's pursuit of every last possible dollar regardless of any health benefit to you. I was pointed to this sad but true tale by an alert reader who I'm sure wants to remain anonymous. Here's the teaser that I hope gets you to read the whole post:

If you've contracted HIV, executives at Abbott Laboratories seriously debated whether to force you to drink a liquid it knows tastes like vomit.

The story starts in the late 90's with the introduction of Norvir, part of the revolution in AIDS treatment that turned it from a death sentence into a manageable condition for lucky folks with cash. AIDS is still a death sentence for most people who contract the disease. Norvir kinda sucked, to the point where you really couldn't use it at a high enough dose for it to work and still have people tolerate it. No problem, you can combine it at a lower dose with other meds and if you have enough money to pay for it all you'll live. Yay.

Those other meds were made by other drug companies though, and remember what the number one mission of Big Pharma is. Your health. BBBRRRWWWAAAHHHAAAHHHAAA!!!! No seriously, the number one mission of every single member of Big Pharma is the accumulation of each and every last dollar it can get it's hands on. Remember this.

This drive for dollars isn't always a bad thing. In 2000, it led Abbott to combine the sucky Norvir with another med under the brand name Kaletra. The combination meant that patients took fewer pills, resulting in fewer missed doses and just a general lessening of the pain in the assness of managing around the clock AIDS therapy. Abbott was happy to be easing the burden of people fighting this terrible, life threatening disease. No they weren't. They were happy that people were now taking fewer tablets made by other companies. The lessening of the burden was just a side effect to them. Anyway, the story is still a happy one at this point.

Then in 2003, Bristol Myers Squibb had the bad taste to introduce a new AIDS medicine called Reyataz, and to present a study that showed that Reyataz combined with Norvir was as effective as Kaletra, with fewer side effects. Patients on this regimen would also be taking still fewer pills, further lessening the pain in the assness of living with AIDS. Abbott did the right thing and immediately sent a letter to doctors recommending new patients be treated with the superior Reyataz/Norvir combination, even though that would mean less money for them than if docs chose the inferior Kaletra.

OK, did you believe that? Seriously, did you honestly for a second believe the line about Abbott sending that letter to doctors? If you did, you probably believe this too, cut and pasted from the Abbott web site:

Throughout our 100+ year history, Abbott people have been driven by a constant goal: to advance medical science to help people live healthier lives. It's part of our heritage. And it continues to drive our work.

So, when the Reyataz/Norvir study was released, executives from Abbott started having meetings to try and decide how they could drive their work towards their constant goal of advancing medical science to help people live healthier lives. It's their heritage you know. Keep in mind two things before I tell you what they come up with.

1) Rayataz doesn't really work very well without Norvir.

2) Abbott would still make a pissload of money on sales of Reyataz/Norvir combo therapy, just not as much as if docs would prescribe the inferior Kaletra.

Here are some of the ideas Abbott executives came up with:

- Jacking the price of Norvir through the roof.

-Withdrawing Norvir capsules from the market, leaving only the liquid form of Norvir on the market.

John Leonard, Abbott’s vice president of global pharmaceutical research and development, referred to liquid Norvir as "this fluid that has been — I’ll just say it — characterized as tasting like someone else’s vomit."

Abbott executives suggested telling the public that Norvir pills were no longer on the market because "they needed to be sent to the developing world (i.e. Africa) as part of a humanitarian effort."

There are 12 million children in Africa who have no parents because of AIDS. It's nice of Abbott to care about this enough to incorporate it into a lie.

- Pulling all Norvir from the market. Abbott cares so much about it's constant goal of advancing medical science that it seriously considered cutting off access to the treatment option best tolerated by patients. It's all about the heritage baby.

In the end, knowing Big Pharma's love affair with dollars, I'll bet you can guess what option Abbott went with. The price of Norvir went up 400%, taking the cost of the better tolerated Reyataz/Norvir combo therapy to $11,187 a year. The average annual income in Sub-Saharan Africa is around $600. They're still waiting for those humanitarian effort Norvir capsules to show up.

Read the whole story here.

On This Easter Sunday, He Has Risen.

My exercise bike makes me glad I wear a lab coat during work. Otherwise I might end up getting sued for sexual harassment or something. I'll explain.

The exercise bike is the only commitment to physical fitness I can seem to keep. It seems less like exercise if I'm sitting on my ass, and really, 20 minutes a day of ass sitting huffing and puffing while listening to reruns of the Al Franken show isn't too much to ask in case the Mountain of Punishment comes calling again. There is a problem though. Exercise bikes do nothing to work the upper body, so after a few years of pedaling away, I am now Clark Kent from the waist up and absolutely Superman from the waist down. Any ladies out there with a thigh fetish totally need to call me.

It presents a problem when buying clothing however, particularly pants. I basically have two choices: 1) Have the pants fit around my waist but be tight around my massive superman thighs, or 2) Have pants that go around my thighs but then are a few inches too big around the beginning of the Clark Kent zone. I could go to a tailor I suppose, or I could do some upper body work, or I could keep hoping someday a sweatshop that supplies Target will get their measurements slightly wrong. The Target option is most appealing to me.

So this workday I was wearing a pair of "waist fitting thigh tight" trousers that were also a bit snug around the....um.....private area. A few hours of this clothing closeness and Mr. Happy decides to wake up and see what's going on. I'm not kidding. A total inappropriate boner in the middle of the workday. It was just like being 16 years old again without the zits.

I should add that there were no attractive people around, men or women. I work in a pharmacy remember. Pharmacies make their money off people who two hundred years ago would be living in leper colonies.

I tried baseball statistics. I tried thinking of dead puppies. Staying very still for as long as possible. I prayed that perfect skin woman wouldn't come in. Or that she would, depending on what kind of mood she'd be in. Eventually someone from the district office called, and when they asked if I would work a 12 hour overtime shift in another store, I was able to use my annoyance to put my Johnson back to sleep for the rest of the day.

So next time you see a man who seems mighty glad to see you, get over yourself. There's a chance he's just a poor schmo who needs a pants adjustment.

You'd Think On The Day They Killed Jesus People Could Back Off A Little Bit, Out Of Respect For What The Man Went Through.

.....but no. It was fucking busy, and the stupidity was flying like the blood from a punctured side. Everyone who came in the store Friday is going to burn in hell.

A sampler from today's stupidity platter.

Call me at work sometime and this is what you'll hear:

"Thank you for calling large corpo pharmacy......for the pharmacy, press 3 now....."

"If you are a doctor or doctor's representative, press 1 now....."

"If you would like to speak to a pharmacist, press 2 now......."

Only after you complete these steps will you hear me say:

"Hi this is the pharmacist, may I help you?"

This is what i got in return:

"Oh, I must have a wrong number. I meant to call Denny's"

Later I had the following actual conversation with another person who somehow made it through the voicemail maze:

Customer: "Is my prescription ready?"

Me: "Yes, I have 1 here ready to go for you."

Customer: "One tablet?"

Me: "No, one prescription."

Customer: "How many tablets?"

Me: "There are 30 tablets"

Customer: "I've never heard of 30 tablets before"

I did not doubt this.

Customer: "What does that mean, 30 tablets?"

I am now going to forget these things ever happened and begin to ponder other things, such as what Jesus did all weekend before he got his ass moving again, and why Good Friday isn't considered the holiday of all holidays for devil worshippers. The warmth of scotch hitting my stomach as I think this over will comfort me, as will the knowledge that everyone who came in my store on this holy day is going to burn in hell.