You're like sunshine on a cold, dark day. Sounds a little cliche, but you are.
I don't actually know what to write about. That's the truth.
The last few days have been terrible, and I barely know why.
I had resolved to find myself a millionaire boyfriend until Rachel told me that would be using him for his money. Turns out that was my intent in the first place, I just hadn't thought about it that much.
I bought new underwear.
Don't mock me.
It's cute underwear.
It was cheap.
Oh, I had a doctor's appointment today (that's something semi-interesting in an old lady sense of the word, right?).
They said my kidneys are screwed up. Too much protein in my urine.
By the way.
Am I the only person who always gets the pee everywhere but the little plastic cup?
What the heck is up with those?
Are they like the nurses way to get back the rest of the human race?
How many girls actually know where their pee-hole is? How do you even find that???
I just kind of stick it down there and hole it gets in the cup.
But seriously, you have to hold the freaking cup, which means you get pee all over your hands. Gross.
And then you get it all over the cup.
Which means you have to wash the cup off in the sink.
And if you're a germaphobe like me, you use soap on the little blue cup. And soap, my friends, is slippery.
And then, you have to wipe the warm cup of yellowish-clear liquid off because it has water all over it, and you don't want the nurses to think that it's actually pee because then they might do something nasty with the blood-drawing needle.
So you wipe the gross warm, less-than-a-quarter-cup-full cup off.
And another thing. Who has actually had to go pee when you're supposed to?
I can never go when I'm ordered to. . I let nature take it's sweet time.
Nurses are fun.
They do some amazing things.
"This'll only pinch."
I wonder about their honesty.
Or how they actually think I'm gonna go around in one of those hospital gowns with my butt hanging out the back.
I'd much rather use more tax-payer dollars and use two gowns to cover my rear-end up.
No, it doesn't matter that I have cute underwear on. Because, as luck has it, I usually end up having no laundry done the day I'm scheduled for a doctors appointment.
Winnie the Pooh, anybody?
Actually, I'm kidding. I do not have Winnie the Pooh undies.
And what is it with nurses and ugly shoes?
Crocs were never, ever, ever in style, ladies.
You also do not need to accessories with your scrubs. Betty Boop earrings, watches and shoelaces aren't necessary.
Can you tell? I hate hospitals. Or clinics.
Don't get me wrong, I'm always nice. I've met some amazing nurses. . .
Actually, my favorites are the tech guys.
Like in the ER, they're always the sweetest.
And, may I mention, the hottest (not that I notice or drool or anything like that).
I do like nurses.
If I didn't I wouldn't have considered being a psychiatric nurse.
They really should get some training on stuff though.
No, when there's a pattern of scars on a person's arm that all resemble each other, I did not fall down and scrape myself. Seriously?
That's almost up there with the kid that asked me if I fell through a cheese grinder. "Yep, I got dropped through the Kraft factory. Worst day of my life."
They always don't know what to say.
Is self-injury really that uncommon?
I can count on the doctor saying "Even on your tummy?!?". It happens every dang time.
It's during the time when they lift your shirt up to "check your intestine functioning".
Yeah. Freaking. Right.
They KNOW they're doing it to tickle you.
I laugh every time. It's terrible.
They give me these looks like: I'm not really trying to tickle you. No, I'm molesting you.
So, on the physical form, the doctor wrote nothing for all the categories, she just checked them off except for the breast one.
She wrote "defined" or "developed".
One or the other because the writing is almost unintelligible.
It couldn't be anything else though because if you piece all the letters together everything else isn't a word.
Developed? Yeah. They have been for quite some time. Thanks for noticing that I'm not 10 anymore.
Defined? Why the heck was she looking that close? What, next is she going to be telling me that they're "chiseled"? Ha ha ha. Wow.
I crack myself up.
I'm really tired. This is insomnia writing, not me.
She bids you adieu.