kirmy
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2014
- Messages
- 748
I have awesome resting bitch face. It comes from having a formidable jaw line. You can thank my highland ancestors who shagged each other silly and essentially created a generic template. Awesome resting bitch face! This will become relevant. Stick with me.
Anyhoo, I have spent the week dissecting corpses of dead Americans who donated their bodies to science and subsequently were sold to Nottingham Queens Hospital. How generous! I was thankful with each scalpel flourish. I also felt an overwhelming urge to eat sirloin when slicing up a thigh. I could eat a leg if push came to shove...you know, zombie apocalypse or in some dystopian future where human packs roam the earth eating insects and drinking from puddles. I digress!
All my butchery was not for nought. To round the week off I rode along with the Ambulance service HEART team which are a major response team of specialist paramedics for terrorist attacks, sundry weather disasters and generic tits up events in the local area. I got to strut my clinical stuff. Didn't save CPR lady but she conveniently died in a funeral home. We still had to take her to the Hospital mortuary. I felt it failed to address carbon emission reduction but who am I to criticise? I've already admitted to wanting to eat a dead Americans thigh so we've established I'm not a reliable source for social commentary.
After five exhausting days of slicing, dicing, exams, drinking, high speed blue light emergencies sliding around corners in rapid response cars like Cagney and Lacey and being fierce I stumbled onto my plane to Edinburgh grouchy and over stimulated like a ADD child high on space rocks. I sat with what can only be described as supreme bitch face and dared any man woman or child to try to occupy seat 6D.
The flight was busy and we were all seated, buckled and heading home for the weekend when on traipsed a crumpled Nottingham woman her equally Crumpled mother followed by her sea anenomie haired static charged 9 year old daughter. Everyone was primed for flight and the late interlopers arrived in true Shakespearian tragedy style stage left. They didn't have three seats together! How could this be permitted? Daisey (the sea anenomie) must have a window seat. Mother popped up from four rows ahead like an impassioned merecat exclaiming to the back row " we've all been there the first time, she's only 9 and afraid to fly, we've all beeeeen there"!
Daughter dramatically rotated like a black lace clad rotund Sputnik both addressing the air stewards and the passengers. "We had three seats..now Dasiey is crying"! At which Daisey emitted a noise like a porpoise being fed into a juicer. Her ugly little head rotating like A wide mouth frog "wiiiiiinnnndowwwwww"! The steward explained that unless they bought the seats then they would be scattered to the wind. Daisy eyed 6D then shrunk from my passive aggressive facial repose whimpering. The man opposite me in the window seat looked at my impassive face and sprung hero like from his seat. "You can have my seat"! His eyes fixed on 6D hopefully and I ramped up the scorn with an eyebrow twitch and Hanibal Lecter squint. He sat in front. I will eat you.
After 50mins of flying I started to unwind. Daisey squealed "whoot whoooo" as we were landing and I made a mental note to get my mirena coil replaced. I also thought "yes Daisey whoot" I'm alive and have brushed with death all week. I'm dizzy with the fury of living and the mad ecstatic expression of life. Whoot whoot...maybe you're not so bad child, though you could do with an anti static spray.
So I've outrun, outlived and out manoeuvred death. In so doing I've laughed and drank and buried the fear of my own fathers coming demise. I tried harder than I needed to in order to resurrect asystolic 71 year old funeral home casket shopper. I poured my fury, my railing into a strangers chest then watched impassively at the families grief. I'm tired. I am washed out and I am alive. I wait. I cannot eat death, I cannot out run it and it's shadow is present. I hope for him it is quick like a slap. Even this is an abstraction to me.
Anyhoo, I have spent the week dissecting corpses of dead Americans who donated their bodies to science and subsequently were sold to Nottingham Queens Hospital. How generous! I was thankful with each scalpel flourish. I also felt an overwhelming urge to eat sirloin when slicing up a thigh. I could eat a leg if push came to shove...you know, zombie apocalypse or in some dystopian future where human packs roam the earth eating insects and drinking from puddles. I digress!
All my butchery was not for nought. To round the week off I rode along with the Ambulance service HEART team which are a major response team of specialist paramedics for terrorist attacks, sundry weather disasters and generic tits up events in the local area. I got to strut my clinical stuff. Didn't save CPR lady but she conveniently died in a funeral home. We still had to take her to the Hospital mortuary. I felt it failed to address carbon emission reduction but who am I to criticise? I've already admitted to wanting to eat a dead Americans thigh so we've established I'm not a reliable source for social commentary.
After five exhausting days of slicing, dicing, exams, drinking, high speed blue light emergencies sliding around corners in rapid response cars like Cagney and Lacey and being fierce I stumbled onto my plane to Edinburgh grouchy and over stimulated like a ADD child high on space rocks. I sat with what can only be described as supreme bitch face and dared any man woman or child to try to occupy seat 6D.
The flight was busy and we were all seated, buckled and heading home for the weekend when on traipsed a crumpled Nottingham woman her equally Crumpled mother followed by her sea anenomie haired static charged 9 year old daughter. Everyone was primed for flight and the late interlopers arrived in true Shakespearian tragedy style stage left. They didn't have three seats together! How could this be permitted? Daisey (the sea anenomie) must have a window seat. Mother popped up from four rows ahead like an impassioned merecat exclaiming to the back row " we've all been there the first time, she's only 9 and afraid to fly, we've all beeeeen there"!
Daughter dramatically rotated like a black lace clad rotund Sputnik both addressing the air stewards and the passengers. "We had three seats..now Dasiey is crying"! At which Daisey emitted a noise like a porpoise being fed into a juicer. Her ugly little head rotating like A wide mouth frog "wiiiiiinnnndowwwwww"! The steward explained that unless they bought the seats then they would be scattered to the wind. Daisy eyed 6D then shrunk from my passive aggressive facial repose whimpering. The man opposite me in the window seat looked at my impassive face and sprung hero like from his seat. "You can have my seat"! His eyes fixed on 6D hopefully and I ramped up the scorn with an eyebrow twitch and Hanibal Lecter squint. He sat in front. I will eat you.
After 50mins of flying I started to unwind. Daisey squealed "whoot whoooo" as we were landing and I made a mental note to get my mirena coil replaced. I also thought "yes Daisey whoot" I'm alive and have brushed with death all week. I'm dizzy with the fury of living and the mad ecstatic expression of life. Whoot whoot...maybe you're not so bad child, though you could do with an anti static spray.
So I've outrun, outlived and out manoeuvred death. In so doing I've laughed and drank and buried the fear of my own fathers coming demise. I tried harder than I needed to in order to resurrect asystolic 71 year old funeral home casket shopper. I poured my fury, my railing into a strangers chest then watched impassively at the families grief. I'm tired. I am washed out and I am alive. I wait. I cannot eat death, I cannot out run it and it's shadow is present. I hope for him it is quick like a slap. Even this is an abstraction to me.
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