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I was a sickly kid. Had I been born before the invention of antibiotics, I would have bit the bucket before my first birthday, not a doubt in my mind. Modern medicine saved my dimply ass more times than I could ever possibly count, but even still I was out of school more than I was in it. And while it SOUNDS kinda cool when you think about it really, it sucked ass.

When I was 14, I begged my doctor to take out my tonsils after I realized that they now had holes and craters in them where stuff was getting caught that I had to fish out. Which, hi, EW.

The surgery was a nightmare because my tonsils, having been used and abused by so many bugs for so many years had, for lack of a better word, rotted. LET THIS BE A WARNING TO YOU, PARENTS OUT THERE WHOSE PHYSICIANS TELL YOU TO TAKE OUT YOUR KIDS TONSILS: DO IT!

While the surgeon was in there, he niftily removed my adenoids too, because, well, why not?

What he never bothered to tell me, and what I didn’t realize until months later is that now I had no barrier between my mouth and my nose. At the wrong angle, let’s say a drinking fountain, water would simply pour from my mouth and out my nose.

It’s a charming party trick.

Having NO adenoids has made oral sex most irritating to perform, although now that I think of it, I bet there’s an untapped goldmine market for porn out there.

Nose Porn.

HOT.

Some people keep pets to protect themselves and their families from the gamut of intruders, burglars, murderers, and rapists that regularly prey on innocent people. Because they’re always talking about that on the local Fear Segment of the news, so it must be true.

Dogs are a common favorite for this. My brother, for example, trained his German Shepard to attack me whenever I walked into the house. There is no love lost between us, obviously.

My parents have 2 large dogs that alert them when: a) Someone is approaching the house b)Another animal is approaching the house or c) a squirrel farts down the block. It’s actually quite tedious to live with if, you know, you ever want to sleep or study or talk on the phone.

I’ve HEARD of people having cats that do similar things, you know, meowing and hissing whenever someone new comes over. My own cats would NEVER do anything of the sort because they are much more concerned with napping or licking their own assholes. Although Finnegan, my 25 pound cat we call “The Deer Hunter” may attack someone carrying in a cheeseburger or spinach salad, but only so he could eat some of it.

Who am I kidding, he’d eat ALL OF IT.

Apparently, over at Casa de la Sausage, we have inadvertently developed a new hybrid of attack-critters. A nest of wasps decided that our back porch was the perfect spot for a summer home. We cohabitated quite well until this morning, when I was ruthlessly attacked by the mess of wasps.

I guess that wasps are too stupid to train to attack “undesirables,” despite my sorted efforts, which mainly consisted of putting pictures of Pashmina out by the hive and chanting “attack the beast” over and over.

So now, in a haze of insecticide, my porch rests.

Peacefully, even.

Like the 25-year old adult that I have freakishly become, I celebrated college graduation AND passing of the Nursing Boards by committing to a surprisingly adult job. I know. I KNOW.

I must admit that my job hunting, unlike my English Major cohorts, I have been blessed to enter into my chosen (for the VERY short-term) a field that is interested in 3 main criteria:

1. A CPR/ACLS card
2. A License
3. A Warm Body

It’s nice in one sense, as I have my pick of positions at any number of hospitals, kick-ass benefits, and shifts. It is, however, decidedly unflattering, in the way that you don’t actually get picked on merit or awards, more on pulse and respirations. If you’re a warm-ish body, you’re pretty much hired.

This has been one of two weeks of orientation that I have had to undergo and I’m stuck in a room with 40 people who are so toothfully chipper and GO NURSING that it almost makes me ashamed and embarrassed. Not one of them knows that I’m really not looking forward to getting onto the floor and wiping asses and taking shit from people. They’ve all been waiting years for this day and I would rather be applying latex paint to a house with my tongue.

I’m trying to be optimistic about the next week as it will be one of the only times that we get a free lunch and more or less free reign over what we do. I do not scoff at free lunches. The size of my ass should tell you that.

So, for eight hours every day I am forced to sit through lecture upon lecture from EVERY department in the hospital because they’re still dating us right now and trying to woo us and make us take off our panties so that we can go all the way with them. I don’t mind being wooed. I do mind that we’re about to be butt-raped, but that’s neither here nor there.

Of the more interesting things that I’ve learned is this: If you’re at work and you accidentally run into your co-worker who is carrying a sheet of glass and you cut yourself, and he picks up the pieces of broken glass covered in your blood, he SHOULD NOT stick the bloody glass in his eyes.

I am very glad that they cleared that up for me because I had spent most of the week before that wondering about that exact same scenario. It’s like the hospital is psychic or something.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off too find some glass to break before I have to listen to a scintillating lecture about what Laundry Services does. It’s certain to be a nail biter.

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