|Er...Are You Trying to Imply Something?
||[May. 16th, 2008|01:12 pm]
An exciting moment at the doctor this morning when he pulled the gauze off the Matrix plug-in in my forehead and, along with it, pulled a scab off my temporal artery, causing me to Dexter/Jackson Pollack right across his pristine white lab coat. (If I would ever get around to posting a real surgery report, you'd know that the initial excision attempt was an alleged bloodletting [I don't think it was that bad] because of this artery, so today was not entirely unexpected.) Which led to the following:
Doctor: Here, I've put a pad right there, you just hold some pressure on it while I set some other stuff up. Yeah, right there, put your finger in...(seizes up like an Edsel engine)
Me: Unfortunately for the Tina Fey movie I'm living in, I happen to be straight, because otherwise your telling me to put my finger in the hole in the dike would have been fuuuuuuunnnyyyyyy.
Doctor: I really was thinking of the little Dutch boy!
Me and Nice Nurse: (uproarious laughter)
Doctor: Words used to mean different things!
I know I am living in an as yet unmade Tina Fey movie because of spin class yesterday. We had just cranked up to a heavy climb out of saddle when the hole in my head and its accomplice, the medicinal bandage, decided to ooze/drain copiously. Although I did manage to whip a wad of Kleenex out of my waistband, I found my glasses earpiece was getting in the way, so before I knew it, I had my glasses in my left hand, which was out on the horn of the handlebars, and my right hand holding a wad of Kleenex up to my drooling forehead, all while peddling up a fake hill. The must-be-fictional approach was confirmed when I went outside after class to find I had a flat tire.
Really, it's a film just waiting for a title.