(no subject)
So.
What does this Aaron guy do, as soon as he gets back to the US of A?
First Order of Business: Bathe The Pets.
Yes. I am so practical and domestic that it hurts. And it would be a hilarious mental image in theory if the process of bathing cats ( and one- poodle. Thing. ) was not...a very excellent form of...self-inflicted torture.
I almost wish someone actually saw my back. Someone who is blinded by my debonair charm and doesn't see through the tirade of tall tales. I know I could come up with at least several stories to accompany the marks... Probably something about- being mauled by bears. Or women. Or women riding bears.
....
Definitely someone who can't see past the magic of my story telling.
Or. Maybe just someone who can't see. At all.
...The highly intoxicated might suffice too.
No. I am -not- desperate for an audience. Shh.
Anyway.
We just got in around noon, so I missed work today because I hadn't slept in three nights ( Since my father is a one-man-band when he sleeps. And ~one room~ is never a 'Good Idea!' )and it really didn't seem like a wise idea to work with patients while displaying some profoundly astounding narcolepsy tricks.
...Pretending that 'Medical field', 'Working' and 'Exhaustion' aren't all common bedfellows. And also pretending that I do anything life-threatening.
I can't even stick anyone with needles. Yet.
*Squints* ....yet.
That is. I mean. I'm the most important cog in the medical machine that is the office.
Or- yadda yadda. Delusions of Grandeur.
P.S.
Someone scream at me for missing the Nightly Wild Drunken Celebration at Atlantis.
The colored lights almost broke my moral compass and nearly lured me enough to just see what it was about.
Curse you brightly colored lights.
*Ruins his Deviantart page with tons of gaudy travel photos.
Of. Fish. ...And buildings.*
What does this Aaron guy do, as soon as he gets back to the US of A?
First Order of Business: Bathe The Pets.
Yes. I am so practical and domestic that it hurts. And it would be a hilarious mental image in theory if the process of bathing cats ( and one- poodle. Thing. ) was not...a very excellent form of...self-inflicted torture.
I almost wish someone actually saw my back. Someone who is blinded by my debonair charm and doesn't see through the tirade of tall tales. I know I could come up with at least several stories to accompany the marks... Probably something about- being mauled by bears. Or women. Or women riding bears.
....
Definitely someone who can't see past the magic of my story telling.
Or. Maybe just someone who can't see. At all.
...The highly intoxicated might suffice too.
No. I am -not- desperate for an audience. Shh.
Anyway.
We just got in around noon, so I missed work today because I hadn't slept in three nights ( Since my father is a one-man-band when he sleeps. And ~one room~ is never a 'Good Idea!' )and it really didn't seem like a wise idea to work with patients while displaying some profoundly astounding narcolepsy tricks.
...Pretending that 'Medical field', 'Working' and 'Exhaustion' aren't all common bedfellows. And also pretending that I do anything life-threatening.
I can't even stick anyone with needles. Yet.
*Squints* ....yet.
That is. I mean. I'm the most important cog in the medical machine that is the office.
Or- yadda yadda. Delusions of Grandeur.
P.S.
Someone scream at me for missing the Nightly Wild Drunken Celebration at Atlantis.
The colored lights almost broke my moral compass and nearly lured me enough to just see what it was about.
Curse you brightly colored lights.
*Ruins his Deviantart page with tons of gaudy travel photos.
Of. Fish. ...And buildings.*