Last night I stayed up late telling a gentleman about when I was put under for surgery, how I remember the nurse steadily talking with me and saying, “Doctor, she’s still awake.” The Doctor sounded impressed that I had not yet been tranquilized…
JetGrindMav replied: When they put me out, they didn’t give me enough. They thought I was out, so they decided not to clean up right away. Well I woke up, not realizing what was going on, and stumbled out of the chair, still wearing this bloody smock and face covered in viscera, mouth stuffed with cotton, and staggered down the hall and somehow made it to the waiting room, filled with small children.
Faith Rivada: omg.
JetGrindMav: ‘MURRRRRRGH!’ I groaned, very zombie-like. It was convincing.
JetGrindMav: Convincing enough to cause the children to scream in terror.
Wednesday was my last kickboxing class, and it was also my 23rd birthday. There is a free introductory to Power Yoga class being held next week, and I’ll probably go.
Last night I laid down in the ampitheatre and compared it to a blog. I have come to the conclusion that they are very much the same thing.
“Are you alright?” asked a passer by.
“Yeah,” I said, never turning my head.
There was a sticker on my banana today that said it *might* prevent cancer. What a crock.
I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, because I collapsed like a rock and never moved an inch. I woke up sore.
Better luck this time.