Oh my god. Class was cancelled! This is the crappy one with the stupid grad student. Chasmin and I were walking to the LC, and we were all, as she put it, "La la la la la -- ooh-hhhh." It would've been nice if she had emailed us, like all of the sane professors and instructors do. 24 hour notice would've been nice.
Ah. I had to wake up early anyhow. I had to face my worst nemesis: The needle. I'm not quite sure what it looked like, since I had my eyes squeezed tight shut the minute I entered the room, but it probably wasn't a giant hypodermic needle, just a little blood-drawing needle. Ugh. I'm getting queasy just thinking about it. See, I have belonephobia, fear of pins and needles. It's slightly different from aichmophobia, which is fear of needles and sharp objects. I can deal with knives and such-like okay, and you know what? I knit and crochet, and I'm fine with knitting needles. It's the thought of needles entering my skin and going into my veins in particular that bothers me. Cutting the surface of my skin with a sharp object doesn't bother me that much. Digging into it with sharp needles? Bothers me.
My arm's a little sore, but that's probably psychomatic. Just because the pain is psychomatic, though, doesn't make it any less real. Fortunately, I had Cheniquois. I don't know if that's how it's spelled, but her name is American Indian, and that looks pretty American Indian to me. It actually sounds like Shaneequa, which looks African-American to me. I had her draw blood from me before, and she's really good. I imagine it hurts less than a slight pin prick.
I have to get my blood drawn every six months. I have thyroid disease, and I need to have it measured so I have to right dosage. That way, I won't balloon in size or get sick and die. I'm pretty sure the latter of those two is worse than the former.
I can't find my Baby-G Casio knock-off watch. It was only 10 bucks, sure, but I like it. It tells me the date and time, and I need that. And it doesn't take forever to turn on, like my cell phone. I should probably check my voicemail.
I'm staying on campus because I have to go to my psychology of language development class. Poop.
Hey! I just noticed. The library has at least ten printers. That's six more than they had before Spring Break. It's necessary, too, because it could take a half hour to get your shit printed, especially if some fuckstain decided to conserve paper and print double-sided. I'm all about saving the trees, but when it makes me late for class, dicksmack, we've got problems.
Heh. Prepare for burnination!
Hey, does anyone know of some good tattoo artists in South Florida? Heck, in all of Florida? I'm willing to go as far as Tampa, but I'd prefer to crash at a friend's house in Orlando if I'm going to get stuck with millions of tiny needles... Oh. Jesus. That's fucking scary. Carly and Caroline might be in New Jersey and not Orlando, but I hope Dez is available. That bitch owes me from that time I held her hand when she got her septum pierced after jazz band camp.
Speaking of Dez, I used to be an all-girl Anal Cunt-slash-AC/DC cover band with her. No, for real. In high school. Eventually, we learned a third chord and started writing our own songs and started playing as a band named "Wet." Then we broke up when Jen and Dez broke up, and some other band came along and usurped our name. I don't know if they're any good, but they have to be better than we were.
Tell me what this is from, and you get a cookie and/or naked pictures of myself:
First Dude: "Man, we need a roadie. Other bands have roadies."
Second Dude: "Well, other bands know more than three chords. Your professional bands can play up to six, sometimes seven completely different chords."
First Dude: "That's just, like, fruity jazz bands."
Heh.
I'm done here. Send me more wang, people.
Oh, wait! I totally forgot! Kiss me, I'm not Irish! Let's drink green beer and vomit.
Postscript: I really like getting waxed. Also, my eyebrows no longer look like Jennifer Connelly's. If only the rest of my face would look like her...
Ah. I had to wake up early anyhow. I had to face my worst nemesis: The needle. I'm not quite sure what it looked like, since I had my eyes squeezed tight shut the minute I entered the room, but it probably wasn't a giant hypodermic needle, just a little blood-drawing needle. Ugh. I'm getting queasy just thinking about it. See, I have belonephobia, fear of pins and needles. It's slightly different from aichmophobia, which is fear of needles and sharp objects. I can deal with knives and such-like okay, and you know what? I knit and crochet, and I'm fine with knitting needles. It's the thought of needles entering my skin and going into my veins in particular that bothers me. Cutting the surface of my skin with a sharp object doesn't bother me that much. Digging into it with sharp needles? Bothers me.
My arm's a little sore, but that's probably psychomatic. Just because the pain is psychomatic, though, doesn't make it any less real. Fortunately, I had Cheniquois. I don't know if that's how it's spelled, but her name is American Indian, and that looks pretty American Indian to me. It actually sounds like Shaneequa, which looks African-American to me. I had her draw blood from me before, and she's really good. I imagine it hurts less than a slight pin prick.
I have to get my blood drawn every six months. I have thyroid disease, and I need to have it measured so I have to right dosage. That way, I won't balloon in size or get sick and die. I'm pretty sure the latter of those two is worse than the former.
I can't find my Baby-G Casio knock-off watch. It was only 10 bucks, sure, but I like it. It tells me the date and time, and I need that. And it doesn't take forever to turn on, like my cell phone. I should probably check my voicemail.
I'm staying on campus because I have to go to my psychology of language development class. Poop.
Hey! I just noticed. The library has at least ten printers. That's six more than they had before Spring Break. It's necessary, too, because it could take a half hour to get your shit printed, especially if some fuckstain decided to conserve paper and print double-sided. I'm all about saving the trees, but when it makes me late for class, dicksmack, we've got problems.
Heh. Prepare for burnination!
Hey, does anyone know of some good tattoo artists in South Florida? Heck, in all of Florida? I'm willing to go as far as Tampa, but I'd prefer to crash at a friend's house in Orlando if I'm going to get stuck with millions of tiny needles... Oh. Jesus. That's fucking scary. Carly and Caroline might be in New Jersey and not Orlando, but I hope Dez is available. That bitch owes me from that time I held her hand when she got her septum pierced after jazz band camp.
Speaking of Dez, I used to be an all-girl Anal Cunt-slash-AC/DC cover band with her. No, for real. In high school. Eventually, we learned a third chord and started writing our own songs and started playing as a band named "Wet." Then we broke up when Jen and Dez broke up, and some other band came along and usurped our name. I don't know if they're any good, but they have to be better than we were.
Tell me what this is from, and you get a cookie and/or naked pictures of myself:
First Dude: "Man, we need a roadie. Other bands have roadies."
Second Dude: "Well, other bands know more than three chords. Your professional bands can play up to six, sometimes seven completely different chords."
First Dude: "That's just, like, fruity jazz bands."
Heh.
I'm done here. Send me more wang, people.
Oh, wait! I totally forgot! Kiss me, I'm not Irish! Let's drink green beer and vomit.
Postscript: I really like getting waxed. Also, my eyebrows no longer look like Jennifer Connelly's. If only the rest of my face would look like her...
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
Buffy
A friend of mine also has a few of needles. A few years back he had to stay in hospital whilst they performed a few tests on him. They stuck the biggest bloody needle I have ever seen into him. It was about 6 inches long and maybe an eigth of an inch wide. He fainted when he saw it. It was put into the inner part of his wrist/hand and he reckoned he could feel the blood flowing around it. Then they put a tap on it so they could draw out blood whenever required. Needles don't bother me much, but I felt ill when I visited Ian and saw the thing and heard the description :vomit: