The post in which I confess to you what I listened to on my Friday evening commute and conjure up a funny story from the week that was.
Today I had my blood drawn by a man that nicknamed me dimples. He also asked me what kind of steroids I was on because he had seen body builders with smaller veins than mine. He cautioned me never to fall and cut myself on that 'water hose' because I would bleed for weeks. All of this he said while I clenched tightly to a nerf ball. Not that you need it...but it's procedure. Before I could even feel a needle, he had collected my blood and stopped up my wound with a cotton ball and a strip of masking tape. You can let go now, he said to my hand, still clutching the ball. Something tells me somebody doesn't like needles. See you later, dimples.
I love people who are good at what they do. I think this might be a recurring theme here. Don't worry, New Order will not be. I don't even know what that song is about, but from now on whenever I hear it (which isn't often), I'm just going to think of a woman in a litter box.
2 comments:
He must have been a nice man. I don't think I would have liked that nickname otherwise! ;)
Haha, well, he prefaced it with something like, "Oh, there's a smile--Look at those dimples! I'll bet you compliments all the time on those." and in truth I had actually forgotten I had one (on my face anyway--ew, slap me for saying that!). I don't think he actually called me that until he told me I could leave, so a) I didn't have time to think and b) I was so relieved it was done! But yes, he was nice and not creepy (but not so nice as to be creepy, right?) : ]
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