Gang-Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conference

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<— Have you ever seen that "First World Problem" meme? Where they compare REAL problems like clean drinking water and child soldier militias to the fake-ass bullshit problems we Americans whine about? 

Well, this week, I was BURDENED with First World problems! And I'm here to tell ya…1st World, 3rd World…they're ALL a pain in the ass.

The main problem I faced was with the fucking useless U.S. Postal Service — which LOST my Burning Man ticket!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I spent over $400 and rimmed Larry Harvey five times to secure a ticket to the social event of the freak season, and I was excited to see that Burning Man finally shipped my ticket out via Signature Confirmation mail on the 15th. I kept an eye on the mailbox, but you know I can't stay home 24/7 waiting for a fuckin' letter. Sure as sugar, the mail carrier came when I was out hustling, so they left a little postcard telling me to come pick it up at the post office the following day. Not a problem! I cruised over there Thursday afternoon, after having lunch with my friend from StoopidVegas.com — but the damn letter wasn't at the post office!!

The jackass at the counter told me to call back between 8-9am the following day (Friday) so I could speak with my mail carrier and arrange for delivery, but you KNOW my dissolute ass ain't out of bed at that whacked-out hour. Instead, I got up at my usual time (closer to 10 or 11am) and waited around the house alllllllllllllll day for the mail carrier…who came and left me some mail, but did not knock or ring the doorbell or otherwise alert me to the fact that s/he had a letter requiring my signature.

FUCK!

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The next day (Saturday) I had to work all day, so I left a note clipped to the front of my mailbox, along with the postcard they'd left me: "MAIL CARRIER! PLEASE LEAVE THIS LETTER AT THE POST OFFICE. I WILL PICK UP ON MONDAY!" Well….Monday rolls around, I drive all the way BACK to the fucking post office (which, incidentally, is pretty fuckin' far away from my house)…and the letter STILL isn't there!!! Worse, the asshat at the counter tells me "Well why don't you do like I told you and call between 8-9am?" I snapped, "Because like I told YOU, I work nights, and I'm SLEEPING at that hour!" Asshole! I stormed out of there, resigned to getting up early the next day and calling them AGAIN.

So that night I went to bed as early as possible, and set my alarm for 8am Tuesday, at which time I called the post office and was put on hold by 3 different people before finding out that my mail carrier was on vacation or some shit, but that someone would "call me back." Of course, no one ever did. I called back myself later on and spoke to a supervisor, who said he would "look for it" AGAIN, but then never called me back, either.

So finally on Day SEVEN (Wednesday) I set my alarm for 8am AGAIN, called the post office AGAIN, and got the same fucking runaround: "I'll look for it and call you back." ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHH!!!!! Now I know the meaning of the term "going postal." These assholes have no fear because their fat asses are locked into cushy government jobs, and there's no competition for their shitty services. OR IS THERE??? BURNING MAN ORG/ IN TICKETING, I BESEECH YOU: USE FEDEX/ UPS NEXT YEAR!!!!! Privative that shit already!

Aaaaaaaanyhoo, I was pretty vehement on the phone, and called back several times until I **FINALLY** got a straight answer: "Uhh, we tore this place inside out and we can't find your letter anywhere!" THANK YOU! All I wanted was a fucking honest answer from you people so I can get started appealing to the ticketing agent in time to save Christmas!!!

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So I emailed the ticketing agent explaining my predicament, and sent two emails to Burning Man, and also emailed a complaint to the Post Office for good measure. We'll see what happens. Some guy from Burning Man actually put down his pipe long enough to reply to one of my emails, saying that I should wait a week or so and see if the Post Office returned the letter to the ticketing agent. If I haven't heard anything by the first weekend in August, I'm supposed to email him again and they'll "work something out." Work something out!!! I should hope so — I've had like the shittiest year of my life, and the only thing that will cheer me up is to run aroudn the desert naked and baked out of my brains, hula hooping to electronic music for 10 days straight!!!!!!

Arrrgh!

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, in the meantime I've been dealing with all manner of other First World bullshit. In addition to losing my Burning Man ticket, the Post Office also lost the autoharp tuning wrench I ordered from amazon.com…so I STILL can't play the fucking autoharp I bought last month! Then the power company sent me a termination notice because my bill was delinquent — come to find out, when I moved I forgot to log into my online bill payer and change my account number, so my payments have been going into the old inactive account where over time they mysteriously "disappeared" (you tell ME how money can just "disappear…" it was debited from my bank account, so SOMEONE has it!!!). On top of THAT, the souvenir photo company where I work owes me $40 back pay from a month ago that they're making me beg for, and on top of THAT my health insurance agent entered my date of birth wrong on my insurance application — so when I developed a RAGING FUCKING YEAST INFECTION I had to dick with all THAT, too, before I could even get a fucking doctor's appointment!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

Speaking of that, it was awful. I think the yeast infection I had back in May never really went away, despite my having taken TWO Diflucan…and it reappeared with a MIGHTY VENGEANCE this week. My shitty-ass health insurance only allows me TWO measly doctor's visits a year (!!!!), so I had to use one of them up for this nonsense :-/ (I should have just gone to Planned Parenthood, in retrospect…but WHAT THE FUCK is the point of paying $154/month for health insurance if you're just gonna use Planned Parenthood?????) Anyhoo, the doctor prescribed me some foul goo with which to baste my birth canal every night before bed, and told me to only wear plain white, pure cotton underwear from now on.

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WTF! Easier said than done! I went to Wal Mart, and all their fucking plain white undies are size XXXL granny briefs!!! Help!!!! If anyone knows a good place to buy inexpensive white cotton panties that have a surface area less than Wyoming, please let me know ASAP!

So aaaaaanyhoo, speaking of the medical insurance business, this week I got a special insight as to why it's so fucked up. I've been desperate for work lately, so I was beating up the help wanted ads on Craigslist, and got a gig as a model at a medical conference in Henderson. It sounded pretty straightforward — they said to wear black yoga pants, and they would give us a white branded tank top to wear. I figured we'd be handing out flyers or something… WRONG!

I showed up and hung around with the four other bimbos they had hired, and suffered through their miserably inane bullshit conversation about boys, eyelash extensions and blah blah blah until the lady in charge came over and told us what we'd be doing: basically acting as guinea pigs on which the doctors could practice using this new ultrasound equipment. Normally I guess they use cadavers, but to give the docs a thrill they hired real, live models this time. Can you say CREEEEEEEEPY???

The lady told us they needed three of us to have our upper arms done, one to have the lower back done, and one to have the hip done. Now, I hadn't shaved my legs in about four months, so I didn't want to expose my legs, and volunteered for the lower back instead. "Oooh, someone must be single," one of the other bitchy "models" smirked. Fuck you, you two-bit hag hack! I don't shave more than twice a month, and guess what…I STILL have plenty of guys banging on my door!

The tables turned on that dumb bitch, though — she ended up being the hip model, and had to pull down her pants and expose her nasty, hairy snatch!!!!! HA HA, BITCH! She was totally mortified — and actually rightfully so, since the craigslist ad hadn't mentioned anything about anything like this, and the gig only paid $100 total. Serves her right, though!

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Meanwhile, we all changed into scrubs and laid on exam tables in this giant operating theater, while groups of doctors came around and prodded us with ultrasound probes. They were supposedly ultra-sounding my "lower back," but it was basically my ass, all the way. I've never had so many strange men sploshing goo on my asscheeks, then probing me and complimenting me on my excellent piriformis (lookit up….LMFAO!). It was kinda weird, but to be honest I was already pretty well used to that shit from when I used to shoot for my medical fetish site, www.divinelyssa.com, and all we ever DID was play with ultrasound machines. So I wasn't as freaked out as the other girls, and even kinda dozed off laying there, face down with some orthopedic surgeon from Houston poking my piriformis. 

After awhile we got a break, during which Little Miss Bitch whined incessantly about how "uncomfortable" she was having her nasty-ass scraggly pubes exposed…so I finally offered to switch with her, mostly to shut her up but also because the doctor in charge of her station was kinda hot. So now I got to lay there with my own nasty-ass scraggly '70s bush half-exposed while they ultrasounded my hip flexor or some such nonsense, only making one or two inappropriate jokes about trans-vaginal probes (I'm not kidding, they really did!!). But the worst part was listening to the doctors' greedy babbling: "So how do we bill for this procedure?" According to the main demonstrating doctor there was a certain way they could bill the procedure to maximize profits, so he spent half the fuckin' time telling them how to do THAT instead of how to use the fucking machine!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk about a broken fucking system! Gawd, I wish I could have hidden a camera in my twat and recorded all this — you would have PUKED!

But all in all it was a very easy gig, and I would definitely do it again. Alas, it was a one-time thing, so it was back to Craigslist for me the very next day. I got all excited when I saw an ad for "SEXY BIKINI CLOWNS NEEDED!" and started typing up my application right away…before stopping to think for a minute that maybe I should check the website first, to see what the gig was all about. I went to bikiniclowns.com, and O…M…G!!!!! "The Hottest, Sexiest Clowns Sucking and Fucking and Masturbating…." nooooooooooooo thanks! I may call myself a Wonderhussy, but I'm really a secret square about stuff like that — I can't even be a stripper, for chrissakes, because I'm too shy to give a lap dance…let alone fucking and sucking and masturbating!!!! 

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Craigslist was pretty dry other than that, so I gave up on work and decided to just take care of other business. I spent 6 hours cleaning my house and my camper (getting ready for Burning Man, dog willing), and then another day I went and got a chemical peel from this awesome aesthetician who used to be an Oakland Raiders cheerleader back in the day. In case you're wondering, a chemical peel is when they splash glycolic acid all over your face to blister off the acne and stuff — and I'm here to tell ya, IT WORKS! This woman blasted my face so that it peeled for about 4 days afterward, but it looks better now, and I will definitely be going back again. My acne has been flaring up as of late, so I gotta do something!

Then another day one of my friends, who is an Alice Cooper impersonator/blackjack dealer, came over and replaced my brake pads for me. I watched him do it, and it looked pretty straightforward — I bet I can do it myself next time! He did it for free, but I hooked him up with a special thank-you gift because the last thing I want to do is take advantage of an Alice Cooper impersonator…ya know?!  

Another night I went over to Wonderground, this monthly variety show/event thing where a bunch of magicians and weirdos congregate to do tricks and schmooze and booze. My roommate had volunteered to be bodypainted at this month's event (they do a different model every month; I've done it a time or two myself) so I cruised over to support him. He looked GREAT! A quick word about my roommate: he's a NUT, obsessed with fitness and health food and alternative energy and stuff, and he's a very cool person. We get along great, since we're both ultra-vain freaks…and we both lead unconventional, self-employed lifestyles that have us coming and going at all 

547779 422907924426770 1913134146 n 200x300 Gang Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conferencehours of the day and night. He drives a big, red beat-up old rapist-looking van…which he leaves parked out front in the driveway, so no one fucks with us because they think we're molesters or something. Fabulous!!! Anyhoo, he did a great job at Wonderground and the pic at left is fantastic — like Fabio raping Mrs. Roper!!! 

Speaking of my roommate, I need to do a photo shoot with him as a Viking or some kinda old-time romance novel shtick, and me as the heaving-bosomed damsel in his arms. The only problem is, I don't have a bosom to heave icon sad Gang Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conference But I'm sure I'll come up with SOMEthing!

And speaking of photo shoots, I have all these GREAT ideas that I want to shoot, but am short on funds to get the needed props. For one, I need about 50 Hostess Sno-Balls — you know those pink coconut-covered cakes that look and feel like breast implants?! One of my neighbors claims to have an inside connection at Hostess, and is supposedly gonna get me a whole pallet for cheap…but I'm not holding my breath. If anyone reading this wants to donate, I have Sno Balls on my amazon.com wish list here. Once I get at least 50 of them, I can do this amazing photo I have in mind! Trust me, it's sexxxy, edgy and will give you hours of enjoyment…I promise! icon biggrin Gang Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conference

On that same note, the fucking haters at kickstarter.com DENIED my project to raise money to buy a metal slave bikini like Princess Leia wore when she was captured by Jabba the Hutt in Return of the Jedi. I could TOTALLY rock this costume — it's only about $50 online — but I'm a broke-ass fool these days, and can't justify spending $50 of my own money to buy one. My idea was to start a kickstarter campaign to raise money for my wacky photo shoots — they're ART, DAMMIT! — but the fuckin' hipster elitists at kickstarted shot me down icon sad Gang Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conference WHY???? If anyone has other ideas as to how I can raise money to buy these things, please let me know asap.

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Thank you!

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About wonderhussy

I am a foul-mouthed, flat-chested bon vivant and adventuress who likes to curse, drink, smoke and run around nude, and I refuse to kow-tow to the bourgeois moral code of the day. I’ve lived in Vegas over ten years, and have a few stories to tell. I roll around town in a truck stocked with a Breathalyzer and a swizzle stick, a spare pair of panties and two stun guns. Don’t fuck with me!
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7 Responses to Gang-Probed by Doctors at a Creeeeeepy Medical Conference

  1. Chris f says:

    You could try the site indiegogo.com it’s a lot like kickstarter I think

  2. John says:

    Great writing! Keep up the good work.

    • wonderhussy says:

      Thanks for the tip! I looked into it, but wouldn’t you know…my loan servicer is not on their list. My loan was originally thru WaMu, then Chase…but Chase sold it to Seterus, which is not on the list. D’OH!!! Fuckers!!!

      • Theo says:

        Ah…sorry to hear that. If, by any chance, the foreclosure process was started before Chase sold the loan to Seterus, you may still have a case. Good luck!

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