"I'm going to the hospital" and other things not to call your parents with at 3 in the morning

Another fun one not to use is "Daddy, has the warranty on Mom's car expired yet?" (when a tiny light on the dashboard indicating the temperature of the seat warmer had burned out, although dad probably thought I crashed the van into a pole. Which, given my driving history, is not all that far-fetched)

I went to Introduction to Semitic Linguistics which was awesome and cool by virtue of the fact that it is a course for Israeli students majoring in Hebrew Language and therefore, entirely in Hebrew. I followed along quite well, and only had some trouble copying down the powerpoint slides fast enough, but it's okay because the teacher sent them to me. And I even answered a question in class about the difference between a dialect and a language after an Israeli student got it wrong. And FYI, i was right. Though the fact that I momentarily forgot how to say "different" and conjugated language as masculine even though it's feminine probably gave me away as "Not An Israeli Student". But whatever. It was good times.

Anyways, since my tonsils are all "aaaaaaaah, jihad!" on me, I went to the doctor at the clinic who kind of creeps me out, but he said that since I haven't really been better in 3 months, he's sending me to an Ear/Nose/Throat guy at the hospital. So I called my parents, freaked them out (Mission: Accomplished), called my madricha to come with me, and off we went!
I even have a red hospital bracelet. Cause I'm that cool. The E/N/T guy checked out my throat and said that since I didn't have an abcess (thanks god) and I could still swallow fluids, they wouldn't have to keep me overnight. He took a throat swab, prescribed some just in case antibiotics, and sent me home.

On the way, we stopped at Super-Pharm, a huge nation-wide pharmacy owned by the same company who owns Shopper's Drug Mart in Canada, and yet it is entirely possible that it is run by people who were hired off the short bus. It is the only place where even if I am third/second/first in line, it will take me a minimum of half an hour to get from a)lining up to b) out the door. I lined up at the pharmacy, and sure enough, I was the third one with three pharmacists working and it still took me half an hour just to get to the front of the line, whereupon my pharmacist was apparently the only competent one behind the counter and had to help every other pharmacist while filling my prescription. I hate Super-Pharm. It's like a really bad movie starring Hilary Duff (Cadet Kelly, worst. show. ever.) on the Family Channel that you want to turn off but are somehow strangely attracted to watching again and again, always asking yourself afterwards "Why? Why?" in a strangled voice. Strangled, much like the state of being you would like to inflict upon the idiot staff who don't seem to know how to do their jobs even though they're wearing those spiffy ties which to me indicate that they "get stuff done". If they're going to be slow, they should lose the ties, unbutton a couple of buttons, untuck the shirt, and get some big gold chains. Ghetto-bling.

The moral of the story is, my throat is beginning to feel better and I need sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.