Anyway, so I get to the ER, and while the guy stitching me up, my boyfriend and I are quizzing each other, because dammit, I still got an exam to take the next morning, whether I got stitches in my head or not. And being the pharmacy nerd that I am, I asking all sorts of stupid questions to the nursing practitioner who stitching me up, asking about which anesthetics he using on me, asking him to make sure the stuff that the boyfriend and I were quizzing each other over was correct, etc. etc. That when I say get Marlboro Red Cigarettes in here and fix them up." When I told my mom Marlboro Menthol Cigarettes about how I was casually Carton Cigarettes chatting with the nursing practitioner and quizzing over exam information while I was getting my stitches, she gave me a horrified look and said "You a girl!! Aren you supposed to be whining and crying in there You getting stitches and you just chatting away That just not right." Good ol mom. So six stitches and some dermabond glue later, I was discharged and went home.
And if you wondering, I still took that exam the next morning. Bleh.
Thinking back on it, I REALLY lucked out by having only a few stitches and some dermabond superglue on my face.
I had my share of being picked on in middle school. Being the nerdy kid that I was (hell, I still pretty damn nerdy), being teased was no surprise to me. However, today I had something happen to me that put me in complete shock.
Some bastard freakin stole my lunch!!
No joke, at the ripe age of 22, I get my lunch stolen for the first time. I put my lunch in the refrigerator of the student lounge like I do every morning. I fished around in my pathetically empty lunchbag, as if I could somehow make food reappear in there by poking it. But alas, poking around does not make sandwiches materialize in my lunchbag. I examined my bag to make sure that it indeed was MY bag. As far as I concerned, it was the same one that I tossed in the fridge earlier that morning. What the hell
I was half-expecting someone to come along, give me a noogie, and then proceed to take seventy-five cents from my wallet to buy a pack of gum. Jerks.
After 2 failed attempts (my friends have always agreed to take me out, but things always seemed to come up), I finally took a trip to The Yellow Rose and saw some boobies. I also saw some awkward guys seeing boobies. It was actually a lot of fun, because I just kicked back with my friends and either checked out the girls, or criticized them, haha. It was even funnier to see how awkward some of the customers were when they were getting lapdances. Some of them were thoroughly enjoying it, but the ones that were fun to watch were the ones who looked absolutely terrified. As in sitting with their back straight, hands clutching the armrests of the chairs, and looking like someone was about to hit them. On the other hand, in a strange way, Cheap Cartons Of Cigarettes visiting the strip club kind of made me feel better about myself. Kinda made the girls seem a little more human and a little less like an unattainable standard. In Chinese culture, it common to refer to someone who older than you as "big brother/sister" or "uncle/auntie", regardless of the fact that you not related to them. Whether you call them uncle/auntie or big brother/sister depends on whether the person is slightly older or old enough to be considered an elder. I was at Ikea today, and I was waiting on line to buy a hotdog. There was a Chinese man with his two children in line ahead of me. So I was smiling with amusement at the kids. The dad noticed me smiling, so that when he dropped the bomb. He said in Mandarin Chinese:
Me: *AUNTIE Did he just freakin call me AUNTIE hesitation whatsoever. No signs of debating whether I should be considered a "big sister" or an "auntie". There and then, I became an old fart. Blech.
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