Yesterday morning Corinne called me almost in tears after yet another simple appointment for standard bloodwork failed. When she arrived at the appointment she was told “we don’t do that here”, despite her calling and making an appointment the day before. Her first appointment failed because the doctor treated her so badly she walked out, crying. You can read her Yelp review here.

It’s a pain in the ass when this happens, even more so when you don’t drive. She sounded like her head was about to explode so I snarfed down some oatmeal, packed up the dogs and immediately drove over to her house, where I presented her with her Christmas present (black Tweezerman tweezers–only the best for my Broad!), her freshly serged legwarmers and the very first pair of pettipants I ever made (a week ago).

Ta daaaaa!

She’s blurry in the photos because she wouldn’t stop moving. Her cat stared at Maggie and Molly during the entire duration of our stay, while Maggie ate all of his cat food and then took a massive, yellow dump out in the backyard.

“That’s okay,” shrugged Corinne. “I won’t be going out there for months.”

Her knee socks were purposely mismatched. “I haven’t shaved my legs!” she protested, but I waved that off. “I’ve seen way worse.”

I told her as my pettipants guinea pig it was her job to wear the pettipants a few times, move around in them and then give me honest feedback. I realized last night as I was making another pair that the pattern size I’ve been using is a small–I’ve now made three pairs of size small pettipants, which is fine–but the next pairs will be medium and large. Large and in charge!

We found a lab that promised to do the job and drove over, where we lucked out: an old man gave us the remaining time on his parking stub, the waiting room was empty, and the girl drawing Corinne’s blood stuck her on the first try. We were impressed, especially me. Part of my fear of needles has to do with what I’ve been told, repeatedly, are my “tiny veins”–they never stick me on the first try. Maybe the third, or fourth. I hate needles near my body but I sat in the room with Corinne and watched her blood get drawn, no problem. Interesting how that works.

Success! Corinne felt 85.66667% better so she treated me to brunch at “The Breakfast Club” on Lake City Way.

Apparently this place is notorious for surly waitstaff but delicious, greasy breakfast, and Corinne is now a regular. When the waitress came to take our orders she just said, “Hobo?” to Corinne (which makes me think of Jerri Blank every time). Corinne got her standard hobo skillet smothered in cheddar cheese, and I ordered a BLT, because 1. I was really in the mood for lunch and 2. I had never ordered a BLT before. Verdict: eh, I’m not much of a bacon fan–it needs to be juicy and crispy, not overcooked, but Corinne’s hobo skillet was tasty. Next time I’ll order breakfast.

Across the street: “Dick’s”. Right next door: Corinne’s gym. So you could eat a fatty breakfast at “The Breakfast Club”, go work out, and then eat a fatty lunch at “Dick’s”, if you so desired. People love “Dick’s”. Love it!“cause Dick’s is the place where the cool hang out…”

The decor was really over-the-top, which I enjoyed. I love places like this. Minimalism be damned!

Our waitress was perfectly nice. Surly? I know surly (hell, I’ve been called surly, famously, by one of my undergrad professors), and that wasn’t it.

Note to self: time for that bi-annual haircut, friend! Is 2012 the year I finally decide to try something new? Eh? I mean, if the world is gonna end and all I should probably attempt a side part, right? Let’s make it work!