Some people have a list of things they want to do before they kick the bucket – their “bucket list.” And while, sure, I have one of those, I also have another list. I call it my “Suck It List.” That’s the list of people or entities that I need to tell what’s what before I die. Starting right now.

– First up is Pacific Pediatric Cardiology. YEAH, I’m so frigging pissed at this company that I’m not even coming up with a cutesy name for them. One of their doctors gave Maddie an echo cardiogram the night she was born. I received a few bills from different doctors for that day (most notably the anesthesiology practice that tried to claim my anesthesia wasn’t medically necessary – FOR AN EMERGENCY C-SECTION! Crooks.), but eventually my insurance kicked in and covered it all. I NEVER (REPEAT – NEVER) received a bill from this place. So you can imagine my surprise when I got a letter from a collections agency on PPC’s behalf. I hit the roof. I almost felt sorry for the poor collections agent that had been assigned to me, because she heard the beautiful English language twisted in some pretty ugly ways. She eventually admitted to me that she thought the claim was bogus, and suggested I speak with my insurance company. I called Blue Cross and spoke with a lovely woman who immediately got to the root of the problem. The claim was billed to Baby Girl Spohr, Sex: MAIL (NOT A TYPO), Relationship: Unknown. It’s so irritating to me that they sent me to collections for an error on THEIR PART. All they had to do was send me a bill or make a phone call.

– A couple nights ago, I was sitting on the couch in our living room. It was late, Mike & Maddie were in bed, and Rigby was snoring next to me. My phone chirped with a text message. I wondered who the heck was sending me a text after midnight. Sure, it was Friday night, but all my friends know better than to send a text that late unless it’s really urgent. Anxious, I picked up my phone, and read the text message:

Kill Yourself. Love, Dan

What. The. Eff.

I didn’t recognize the number. I sent a message to the only Dan I know, who assured me that he did NOT send me the message. I did some Google searches, and I even called the number back, but I never found out who the J Hole was. Most likely it was a wrong number. Still. Boo.

– Also last week, I had lunch with two of my favorites, my best friend Tara, her two kids Reilly and Georgie, and my fun friend Ashley (AUNTIE Ashley to Maddie). Reilly is three, and after lunch she wanted to go see the fountain that was near the restaurant. We let Reilly dance along the ledge of the fountain, and I thought Maddie might want to stand on the ledge (with my help). I did NOT expect her to completely lose her mind when she saw the splashing water. I realized she thought it was bath time (she hates bathes with a fiery passion). I turned to Ashley and Tara and said, “watch this, it’s going to make Maddie SCREAM.” I bet over, holding Maddie, with the intention being that she would touch the water with her hand and splash it. Instead, I bent over, and my purse on my shoulder flipped upside down. My little Sony point and shoot camera came shooting out of my purse, and landed right in the fountain. Tara screamed, “Heather! NOOOOOooooooo,” all slow-motion like, but it didn’t matter – my camera was soaked. Three days later, it will turn on, but it makes a high-pitched whining sound. Someone (probably not Reilly) said the word “Karma.” Well, Karma, you’re on my list.

Pacific Pediatric Cardiology, wrong numbers, and karma can all SUCK IT. You bastards.