What up playa? Long time, no see. I know that I haven't written in a while. What can I say. Nothing surprises me anymore. Well, almost nothing. Here's one for you.
I was outside smoking with Eric the other day. We were out by the gazebo at work. Apparently, there's this new Captain that is a former smoker and he's decreed that we all be away from the doors when we smoke. I call that pussy. Anyway, we were out by the gazebo which, by the way, is a magnet for wasps. As you know, I've never been stung. Not by anything. Well, girls are the exception. So, Mickey was out there smoking and I ducked and darted because a wasp was nearby and then she says, "If I get stung, I'll see ya'll at the hospital" or something to that effect. I, because I've read that book The Worst Case Scenario Handbook, tell her that I'd be happy to give her a tracheotomy, if she goes into anaphylactic shock. I'm cool like that. I know how to do it so I would be happy to oblige, especially to save a life and get my name in the paper, natch. She then proceeds to tell me that she'd rather die than get help from me. She tells me that all I know of medicine, I learned on ER and I should watch her die rather than save her life. I assure her that the book I read was a valid book and that the procedure is very simple. She insists. She'd rather die than to receive a tracheotomy from me. I didn't even say that she would actually need that procedure to live. But she was quite insistent and I too am intent in my resolve. Should Mickey get stung by a bee and for some reason, be without medical care, I shall refuse to help her. Really, I think at this point, I'd rather see her perish than help her. Sad, isn't it. People are pretty fucked up.
Guess what? I'd still give her the tracheotomy. I'm dying to do it. I always carry a Bic just in case.
See you in hell, Mickey.
Take care and stay cool,
Tuesday, July 26, 2005