A visit to the DOCTOR

Heh heh, let me explain something:

Last summer, while everyone else in our junior high class at church was getting their tentis boosters and chicken pox vaccines, I was tubing at Jessica's aunt's house and hanging out in Vermont with my cousins, staying up in bed reading and watching lame firework displays behind trees on the fourth of July. So I got mine today at the DOCTOR's office.

DOCTOR's office stands for Dirty Old Clinic To Operate on Roadkill. I am not a roadkill. However, waiting nervously in the office makes me feel like a soon-to-be roadkill deer. But they called my name, weighed me, checked every ear, eye, nose, and finger (pricky, pricky one might say) and told me to change.

Johnnies.

Man, I hate those things! They gave me a sheet if I was uncomforable. Yes, I love wearing bedsheets. So I decided that if I was gonna wear these things, I was gonna look darn good in one.

I slipped it on, tied it in the back and around my neck, took my sheet, wrapped it around my middle, tied it on the side in a large, fluffy bow, and put back on the ole green sneakers. Mom laughed at my OGS, and then the doctor game in.

She asked if I brush my teeth, and food allergies, where I get my iron from (I am, yes, a vegetarian) and blah stuff like that. She did a physical and then AH shot time.

Well, Zach got his last summer about a week before he dissappeared into nowhere like every year. But he was whining about how much it'd hurt, so I will admit, I was slightly nervous. Of course, to whom it may concern, I have never taken Zach's word on ANYTHING before, so I wasn't exactly shaking in my boots. Then again, I made up my mind not to play the ole dumb after-she-does-the-shot-say-"When-are-you-gonna-do-it?" trick. I hate people who do that.

THAT BIG WHINY IDIOT!! My chicken pox one was fine and so was my tetnis! I think he purposefully fooled me into being nervous! You creep!

Ugh. Never trust a kid who dissapears every year in the summer. Also, never trust a man in a white tuxedo. Also alto, never trust a girl with too much lipstick.

THAT MEANS YOU, YOUTH GIRLS!

So my arm hurt a little after that, but nothing major. Of course it is a little hard to type with this bandaid on my finger from the blood test prick they gave me. Okay, that's all, peace out, comment ahoy, blah blah blah.

Oh, fifty-five followers! Nice! I'm going for seventy this year, keep 'em coming!