Creepy Crawler, Part II

Now I'm mad, which I admit is sometimes difficult to differentiate from the normal me.  It was bad enough to have some corporation's geek for hire or some alien computer crawling my blog, but today our home voice mail was invaded by a representative from the lab that drew and processed Micah's blood work.  The name of said company shall remain un-typed to prevent further crawling the aforementioned corporate entity through this entry, but let's use the initials QD for simplicity's sake.

This is MY blog, for me, for family and friends and a few others who happen to wander in who might be interested in atresia/microtia.  Not for some corporation to be acting like an electronic proctocologist in its own self interest.

Sooooooo. . . . . .

Go away, QD, leave me, my blog and our voice mail alone.  I'm not talking to you by phone, email or any other means, even if hell were to freeze over or if I were offered one million dollars (I might reconsider the latter, perhaps in light of the future relocation, private school tuition for one kid and having to find a good preschool for the other kid by September 2010 - and I could use a cleaning service.)

Butt out, QD, if you didn't  read or understand my meaning the first time.  I am permanently unavailable for any further discussions.  Go away, far, far away, leave me alone, bug off, be gone, vanish.

Which doesn't mean I don't like QD - it's the one lab we use at the office because its competitor never managed to be able to interface with my employer's EMR software and its results went off into the ozone constantly. QD has done a good job with its results going into the patient's EMR records. No complaints there, at all.

But in this instance, I have been seriously annoyed, I have a mulish, Teutonic stubbornness that is not to be messed with - test the concept and I will win.  In stubbornnes, I am only out-shined by my lovely daughter. 

I have had a crappy week, thus far and the lashing out at QD is quite therapeutic.

And I am one step closer to going toward a restricted reader list, where interested parties will need to ask to be added to the list.  Kiss the hit counter good-bye, kiss the flags good-bye, I'll toss it all to keep this from happening again.