Your tongue is actually a pregnancy test.
My earnestness in creating this blog is going to lead to its demise.
Today I went to the doctor (who, when I told her I had stomach pains, immediately wrote me a referral for a pregnancy test and that was it) because my tongue's been displaying some rather unnatural yellow hues and my throat's made of bees due to some insane viral thing I've got -- and my doctor gave me an antibiotic. I'm not sure that this woman is qualified to practice medicine. Is that what this is? Practice? I am not Operation. My funny bone stays in place, thanks. I do buzz if you touch me the wrong way, though. That much is true.
There was something immensely soothing about the way the lady at the desk at St. James' said 'next of kin' and 'primary caregiver' combined with the distinct slow clacking of hospital keyboard keys. The same sort of soothing one might experience sitting in the dean's office for an hour and a half after being denied the right to take their chemistry final. The sort of people that float in and out there are really the cream of the crop of the academic pool.
I have a friend who's bent on finding a way to get me into a fight with a 'ghetto' girl. I'm already on thin ice by indirectly causing ketchup to get spilled on a girl's, how would you say it in the colloquial, "fresh white kicks"? Most frightening moment of my life.
I bid you all adieu as I have pills to take. Hopefully tonight's pick of random medications will cure me and put me to sleep. In the rest sense, not the euthanasia. Youth in Asia.
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Now playing:
Rascal Flatts - I Meltvia
FoxyTunes
Ianthe. posted at 12:08 AM