Antioxi-WHAAA?!

Oh CRA, how dare you take over Welch's! I love their grape juice. Cranberry juice is only number two now. *tear*

First, I must rant. But that word is over-used, really.

And so I sign the little prescription form, claiming that I'm in higher education (I don't think I am, but I'm certainly not paying! I don't even have a job. And don't get me started on bus fares to that apathetic place on the other side of the city) when I'm not. So I have to sit in this new chair (several weeks ago they were all of a different variety) which are all uniform. Bizarre!

Anyway, after about five minutes, this heroin junkie comes in then goes into this little booth with the "METHADONE. NO CHILDREN ALLOWED" sign scrawled in giant bold letters, but I let it pass as I keep staring ahead, not wanting to see her tainted visage, even though about ten other people were all in line first.

Still sitting in this leather seat that was becoming uncomfortably hot, another crackhead comes in and is served before me. HOW DARE SHE? (xi)

My name is called and so I can only feel Schadenfreude and announce the embarrassment of them by asking if those addicts are more important than actual sick people; of course, they are probably emotionally sick. But she just stares, and I don't really care so I just leave. I hope this doesn't happen again otherwise it'll be a not-so-anonymous letter people will be receiving.