drooly | Michelle Branch
So here it is, 12:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
I just spent the last 2 and half hours in the ER, asking "mndgaoh neaorinfa fmnoiwan?"
Allow me to translate: Excuse me, doctor, why is my tongue swollen?
And the answer was? Sounds like, "here take these and get out."
They gave me a bendryl and some other things that looked like bendryl but wasn't, a prescription for the said stuff, 6 pages on how to properly stay hydrated and a note for work signed Epstein's Mother. (Retro reference.) Then they gave me the big ol' boot minus a thorough examination.
Where we the latex gloves? The poking and prodding with cold utensils? The pee tests?!
I sat there for two hours reading Harry Potter, drooling out of every orifice in my facial cavity and didn't even get a diagnosis.
So I'm all drugged up on these blissful sleepy medications and writing a journal entry while trying to make a makeshift spittoon out of a Ziploc bag.
Mkfdahfineatrhtrmbsbntm.
This bib isn't such a bad idea.
2 comments:
haha, you ain't cool unless you drool.
so....um....you're ok,right?
How is Harry Potter?
How is your tounge??
Dear Marissa
Kathleen
What the hell bit you on the tongue? What kind of animal are you dating these days? ;o) Are you speaking better now?
Signed,
Epstein's mother
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