Speaking of Belinda, Peter, purebreds, etc... I'm sick as one. Not only am I sick, I have a nose injury from a toilet seat slamming down on my face. I am not a pretty sight these days, and even feared being found half-eaten by Alsatians (to quote Bridget Jones). I decided to go to the doctor today to prevent this from happening. Here are a couple of extracts from our conversation:
Doctor (who appears to be around 18-years old) : Could you be pregnant?
Me: No. Do you know how old I am?
Doctor: Oh, right.
Me: Right, indeed, sonny. Please tell me you don't see pregnant women coming in here looking like me.
Doctor: You have a virus. If it gets worse, just go to the Emergency room.
Me: But if it gets worse, I won't make there. I'll be eaten by Alsatians!
The doctor did recommend Gatorade, which I'm leaning on heavily. And Advil, as opposed to Tylenol, which was doing sweet f-all for me. These two things alone may keep me alive here.
3 comments:
Aggie: you poor dear. I'm heading straight over with some warm muffins. Need to keep your strength up lovey...especially for your latest young man (and how old did you say that doctor was?). If you can't eat, then I'll steep us some lovely tea. You may add a tot of "extra" as per your usual.
Don't worry about the Alsations. We can throw them the muffins if they won't go away.
Or perhaps sic the ravening beasts on the doc. Pregnant, he said? What an idiot! Clearly he doesn't know our Aggie!
Aggie, dear Aggie, how is it that you even make an illness with undignified injuries seem elegant?
Whilst I sympathise with your plight, Dame Aggie, ma'am, (For reasons far too complex and embarrassingly instinctual to relate here, my snout is often nailed by falling toilet seats. But let's not get me started on crappy crapper design...) I begin to weary of all of these negative dog references, lately. I hope you recover soon, uneaten.
And them fictional Alsatians? Mere pikers.
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