Son of a bitch

I feel much better now. And my lovely doctor has been. And I am still all worked up about the other doctor who deserves the Chopping Square. I've never seen such a silly man in my life. I haven't seen him for a long time now, and I haven't missed him one bit. I also like the fact that although he is an ambitious son of a bitch, he always gets left along the wayside, and that feels so good. This doctor always thinks he is God to womankind, struts and trots instead of walking, whistles (how rude) in a way which would make my cats all leave home, and most importantly of all, sucks at diagnosing. And when he cannot diagnose he blames it all on the brain, not in a good way. A simple GP, he turns shrink when he hits a blank walk. And a bad bad shrink too. He could do whatever he likes, but not when it comes to me, not when he hits close to home. He is also very guilty of breaking the PDPA a million times. He clutches at a straw when he knows he's half-drowned and he could do that if he liked, only not come up with imaginary straws just to steer the spotlight away from him. He said, behind my back, that I was a broken woman. He said, also behind my back, that my sanity was questionable, he said, again behind my back, that I was extremely ill. Well, look at me now. Now I say, that this man is a total con. Doctor? Doctor my ass, which incidentally he also thought was ill. So I may be a woman with a sick butt, I wonder what this illness is called, dysfunctional anus syndromatic illness. I wish I had that, so I could have blast-farted this son of a bitch into oblivion. And if that is mad, then yes, I am insane.