So, basically, if you don’t know me well you might think that I’m super popular and spent my teen years partying with all my friends while drinking and dancing and doing whatever else teenagers do. For those of you who do know me well, you’ll know that none of the above is true. I went to the movies with my one friend and worked at a library. I wish I could say that all changed in University and I became the most sought after girl in my year and spent every night at a different bar fighting off all the men but secretly enticing them with my hair flips and winning smile. But I, again, watched a lot of movies with my best friend and studied in the library. Which is kind of unbelievable, right? I mean, I’m a lot of fun. And, like, I make really good jokes.
The thing is, it takes someone in your life to bring out the awesomeness, and to that I give credit to ED, who noticed my introverted personality and vowed to, in her words, corrupt me. She introduced me to wine, straight vodka shots, and completely off the wall, hilarious humour. Without that girl, I wouldn’t have been able to tap into my own humour, nor would I have been able to let go of my inhibitions and be outgoing. If I’m awesome (which I am), she’s beyond that.
Of course, I will always have my brothers to quickly remind me that no, you are not cool, you are actually kind of a loser. Last night, when I asked M if I could date one of his friends, R piped up with “well, first, he’s probably not interested…” Later, when we were watching a movie with a particularly pathetic and lonely character, M stated that I “could totally date him.” It’s a good thing I love them.
Tequila
…makes her clothes fall off? Not more so than any other alcohol. Makes her fall down is more appropriate. I woke up on Saturday morning and discovered a sizable scrape on my shin, and do you think I can remember how I got it? Nope! JL said it got it when walking home from the bar, which makes sense. I just wish I could remember. Fall down, go boom.
Patients
I hadn’t been at the hospital for a while, and I was really missing my patients. So when I went back yesterday, they did not disappoint. One of my regular visitors came in for a chat, and would literally not stop staring at my boobs. And not just a quick glance every few seconds. Blatant staring for, like, 30 seconds at a time. I didn’t know whether I should laugh or smack him.
I had a few conversations with patients that can only be truly appreciated in a word for word recount.
Me: Hi, Kim! How are you today?
Kim: My name isn’t Kim, honey.
Me: Oh, ok. What is it?
Kim: I can’t tell you; it’s top secret.
Me: …alright.
Patient 1: How long you been here, man?
Patient 2: 50 years
Me: What? How old are you?
P2: 51.
P1: You’ve been here since you were 1?
Me: I…okay. How old were you when you came here?
P2: 20.
Me: *Sigh*
Hungarian Patient: I have spirits in my house.
Me: That’s…I’m sorry?
HP: One of them touches me in a way that I don’t like to be touched.
Me: Dear god.
Love,
Bella
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