The Minnesota Nice.

I know I'm not the first one to coin that phrase, but jeezus christ is it true!
I just got off the phone with the good people at Comcast Cable because for a couple months now, the channels I watch the most frequently (4, 8, & 10) have been severely breaking up and have become unwatchable. This has cost great stress in my life as Dr. Phil and Oprah are on Channel 4 and well, People's Court is on Channel 8. I forget why I even mentioned Channel 10 actually, becomes I guess I don't really watch it.
So I finally get the energy to call the cable company to get this fucking crap fixed once and for all. See, I've called the cable company so many times in my life, that I know what they're going to ask me to do right away to try and remedy the problem. So I started out by saying "Yes I've unplugged the power source" and then I promptly gave them the number off the back of the box so they could "ping" the box. Yeah so that didn't work so I'm just like, "Please send someone out to give me a newer and better box because I HATE this box". While she was waiting for her DOS-based computer to work...she made what I like to call "The Minnesota Nice". Ya know, small talk about dumb crap. "Sheesh, I'm pretty glad I'm in the air-conditioning today because I heard it's just a scorcher out there!" and "I hear a little baby in the background...I sure can't wait until I have grandkids". I mean it's nice and all...but WHY OH WHY do we HAVE to talk while we're waiting for the computer to kick out some information?!??!!? Silence is golden. I like silence. I don't think it's awkward at all.
Anyway, EVERY SINGLE TIME I've called the cable company they do this. This is why I've put off calling them for soooo long. No shit! I just don't have the energy for conversation that isn't meaningful, I guess.
So, between 11 and 1 tomorrow afternoon...a fat-ass Comcast tech should be showing up to yet again put me through the torture of small talk. Hopefully, my small talk efforts will be rewarded with a NEW cable box (one that's silver and not black). I'll just toss in the fact that my husband and I worked for the cable company for almost a decade combined so we know what's up in that department.
WARNING!!! WARNING!!! The following paragraph involves vaginas. Don't say I didn't warn you!! WARNING!!! WARNING!!!
In other news, I had my annual vag appointment today. Haven't had one since six weeks after The Tronic was born. Maybe this deserves a post all its own...but the bakery has officially shut down after one good run. What I mean is: Ami is getting a brand-new procedure between August 29th and September 11th...which, without getting into graphic details, is PERMANENT birth control. No reversing it, no going back, nope, nope, nope. The tubes will be blocked off and my sweet little egg will never travel down any tubes again. We broke the mold when we had Ava...and as much as I love her and can't imagine my world without her...we're DONE!
And as we all know, birth control pills and patches and shots and nose sprays or whatever, fuck with hormones majorly...and that is ONE thing I don't need. I'm already fucked up enough as it is.
So anyway, yeah. I've never been so sure about something in awhile...and when my 97-year-old gynecologist suggested it, my ears perked up, and I was like, "Can we do it today?"
Ya know, just to kill 2 birds with 1 stone. Apparently, there's only one doctor in like the whole state of Minnesota that performs this "state-of-the-art" procedure and I'm on her list.
I'll be a eunuch now, won't I? That's totally awesome.