Saturday, December 8, 2012

It Turned My Tongue Blue

Hi. So one thing I didn't do before starting this Blogmas venture was decide on any specific set of rules. And I fear that what I'm doing right now may constitute breaking some sort of unspoken, yet-still-totally-valid-because-it-should-go-without-saying rule. Then again, it's my blog. And in true fashion of the teeny kindergartener that lives in my heart, I am bestowing the construction paper crown on my head, declaring myself the ruler of this kingdom, thus making my word law. So I'm writing this blog post at 11:50 P.M. December 7th and there's not a damn thing you can do about it... poop-head.

I mentioned this in a brief edit in yesterday's (today's) post, but I feel I should tell you guys the whole story about my trip to the doctor's office for two reasons: 1) It's actually a little entertaining, which leads to reason 2) I have a tremendously boring life and therefore need to take advantage all anecdote opportunities. That having been said, let's talk about how I was stuck in the arm four times with needles!

When I arrive at the doctor's office, I immediately take a seat in front of the fish tank. When I was a little kid, I never got why doctors put fish in their waiting room. A bunch a fish swimming around in circles? Booooring! Point me towards the Where's Waldo and I'm set, thank you very much. It wasn't until I started reading books, and got all metaphorical and pretentious that I actually liked watching fish. I sat on my Gatsby-reading ass, watching the fish swim while every analogy possible leaked out of my ears. (Just to clarify, I'm the one who reads Gatsby... not my behind.) Interesting how they all travel in one large group like that--when one turns around the others follow. It's as if the first fish to turn around is media, and the ones that follow represent modern youth. SHUT UP YOU ARE WORSE THAN TED MOSBY.

After trekking through every emotional state from depressed to having high aspirations for the accomplishments of mankind, we were finally called, and the nurse led my mother, my sister, (she was also getting a shot that day) and I to the back room. My sights, however, were set on the bowl containing the candy meant for unconsolable 6-year-olds. This wasn't just any bowl of candy, though. We're not talking generic, round lollipops and root beer shaped barrels. They had Dum Dums. And sitting atop the pile, showered in golden light as the angelic choir sang, was a Blue Raspberry--the ruler of all Dum Dums flavors. Did I dare? Could I swipe the precious trophy before I was caught by the piercing stares of those who, due to the health risks that come with physical maturity, had lost the desire to devour all sugar within their midst? It was now or never. The bowl sat on the right side of the hallway, just before the path turned right. If I could make it to the end of the group, I had a chance. I slowed my pace as we proceeded down the hall. The nurse turned right, my sister and mother in suit. Quickly and precisely, I grabbed the lollipop and shoved it into my purse. I had it! I perked my head up to check if I had gotten away with it. Everyone continued forward on their way, blissfully unaware of my sweet success. (Get it?)

With my well-deserved treat safely in my bag, the threat of the needles seemed unimportant. The nurse took my blood pressure which wasn't so bad. I would compare it to what I imagine being attacked by the Kraken to feel like. But for the most part, I was calm, cool, and collected... until she actually got out the needles. Just a tip when you go in to get your shots: never, I repeat, never look at the needle. It only gives it more power. My sister, who was only getting one shot, went first. She sat there with a glazed look in her eye like she was sitting in a boring history class--completely unaware of the sharp metal object inside of her. My turn, however, was a little more chaotic.

Here's the thing about me: I make noises. Like, a lot. I make noises when I'm cooking, doing homework, watching TV, and especially when I'm in pain. So the second the nurse stuck the needle in my arm I started... singing. It was a song I composed myself on the spot. For your convenience, I have transcribed the lyrics:
Ooo ow ooooooow! / That feels weird and huuuurts / I like it when it's over yaaaay ow
Stunning. I know. The nurse chuckled at my humorous coping mechanism. She was nice and told me that I should feel free to sing out my heart's song during the next three shots. Needless to say, I took her up on her offer.

It was actually pretty fun. My sister joined me in a rousing rendition of Dynamic Duo from Starkid's Holy Musical B@man! for the next three shots and we had a good time! (Overlooking my obvious discomfort)

On the way home, my mother treated us to Frosty's, following a tradition of always getting ice cream after a shot. (I haven't gotten shots in quite a few years, actually. The last time being when I was 9 or so. But I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity just because Teen Beat tells me that I'm too old to enjoy a treat for doing such a good job getting my shots.)

I finished the Blue Raspberry Dum Dum a couple minutes before starting this post, and I have two words on the subject: worth it. So as far as doctor's visits go, I'd consider this one a booming success.

Tonight's ABC Family 25 Days of Christmas Feature: Despicable Me (This one leaves something to be desired...)
Christmas-tastic Thing of the Day:  Present Face, a hilarious song by musical duo, Garfunkel and Oates, about the facial expression one does when receiving a horrendous Christmas gift.

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