Monday Meow and I went to the hospital. Rather, I showed Meow a piece of paper stating that I had to go to the hospital for a free bi-annual medical exam. “Had to” meant that if I didn’t go by the end of the year, I would be fined. I guess some National Healthcare System bean counter delivered a paper at the bean counters convention and the revelation was that if the NHS forced everyone covered into the hospital every couple of years they could actually save a lot of money by catch serious things early. It all makes great sense, but I was given my orders in June and still managed to not get to the hospital which is in front of the fucking gate to the campus where I work until the 30th of December. So Meow felt compelled to come along and speed things up.
I’ve given the last blood I’m willing to give. It hurts like balls being pinched every time. When I had my DNA and chromosomes typed and whatnot a few years back, they took six fucking test tubes of blood. The guy today took two. Or one. I couldn’t bear to look. Or three. Who knows. I thought I was gonna throw up or pass out or something. It’s too much. The next fucker that wants my blood is gonna have to take it the old fashioned way …
At least it was warm out and Meow and I got to walk around without our jackets being zipped up. That’s not gonna help with the blood thing, but it did make it better.
The Daily Bullet
Oh yeah! New iPhone fuck-up-your-image-for-no-good-reason app!
