UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu You are just a number to me! And that number is: PAGES UD MADE: My Books Page My Reviews Page My Reference Page My Music Page My Pictures My Store UD-RELATED PAGES: My LiveJournal My MySpace music page My Flickr page My del.icio.us page My Last.fm page My Amazon Wishlist HEAVY ROTATION Dan Deacon: Bromst Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavillion Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago Vampire Weekend: Vampire Weekend Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes BLOGS ETC claude le monde nuncstans rock 'em stock 'em tomato nation postmodern drunkard tuckova 22 ghastly mess constintina total virility fuzzysquid drunken bee stacey nightmare elyse from ANTM stereolabrat dark side points jf_franklin 123 i love you READ NOW brotherhood 2.0 NOT BLOGS ETC qwantz (dinosaur comix) go fug yourself the burg cat and girl book of ratings married to the sea icanhascheezburger fire joe morgan fivethirtyeight.com READ NOW hospitality on parade WEIRD LOVE dead amusement pks craters! all content © 2002-2010 Jeremy Broomfield
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Wednesday, November 19, 2003
So I went to the slowest doctor in the world again today. My appointment was for 2pm, so I brought two volumes of À la recherche du temps perdu and settled into the waiting room. After forty minutes of dozing in the chair, I asked a receptionoid to put me in an exam room so that I could lie down and have a little napper. She looked at me funny, but I pointed to the wiggly comic book pain lines emanating from my spine, and she agreed.
I took a nap, and it was quite peaceful until the doctor came in to harsh my fucking mellow... at 3:15pm (or 1515 hrs, for those of you who are AWOL after a home leave from sunny Tikrit). I tell ya folks, my doctor is so slow... [how slow, etc?] Well, see I brought my son in for his Dip/Tet? And by the time she showed up he had grown up and become a discipline problem and I had sent him to military school! Damn that's a long wait! Thanks, folks. Tip your waitress, she works hard. No but so what. Thing is: I heard these to jocktards talking in the elevator, speaking confidentially at a volume that could only be called a "whisper" in a crowded football stadium. JT1: Dude. She stuck a needle in it? JT2: Uh-huh. JT1: Dude! Wow. You OK? JT2: Uh. I'm a little dizzy, ackshly. JT1: Yeah, you look... um... d'it hurt? JT2: Uh. Burned a little. JT1: No! No, man! Whoa! Fuck! JT2: ... JT1: In your nutsack? Dude! JT2: Gabba burble. (almost falls down as elevator doors open.) So I suppose things would be worse. I walked away with a referral for more Physical Therapy, and Jocky McSweatpants got a Hot Nut Injection (HNI). Um, a HotShot to the NutSack (HSNS)? I can't imagine what kind of ailment would require a shot in the balls, and it is my devout hope that some doctor was just having a little fun. Getting a hot smidgen of revenge on the jocks of the world for all the wedgies and titty twisters in the playground. Ha! Zap! 0 comments |
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