Let me be your heroin.

Dear mintwaster and others drooling over Natalie Portman's shaved head....

( first pointed out to me by femme_fan )

Well, thank god for that clarification. Because all three of those are horrible things. I think I'm actually more bothered by the cancer victim part of the comment.

I was watching the news on telemundo while working this morning, which is kinda weird since I don't speak spanish, but I'm always trying to pick up what I can, and it's morning news, so I could figure most of the general information, including an interview with an allergy specialist and during his talking they kept showing stock footage of people sneezing, flowers, hospitals, and people getting injections. And I remembered, oh yeah. Injection. Go do that, Raymond. So I did.

[WARNING, the rest of this entry might not suit folks who are squeamish.]

And I had the most traumatic injection experience ever, because I basically was about to stab my thigh and I dropped the syringe and it went right into my hand, the needle slid right under the skin, almost like a play piercing and the weight of the syringe pulled it down such that it almost did poke all the way through my skin twice. I don't think I'm describing this accurately and how shocking it was. I mean, this is something that if I saw it during our viewings of CSI, I would groan "oh god" and turn away. And I basically started laughing. I was so nervous and upset but couldn't really freak out on myself, so I'm sitting on the toilet chuckling about it, and I quickly pulled it out of my hand and wiped the needle with the alcohol swab and proceeded to stab my leg immediately, because I know once the adrenaline started going, I'd never be able to finish. But of course I was all tense from the fumbling, so my leg muscle was clenched and tight and the needle bounced off, but did I stop? No, I just fucking stabbed myself again and as it went in, it HURT. So bad. Because of the aforementioned tension in the muscle. I took a breath and relaxed my leg and it slid in fine and stopped hurting. My hormones finally made it into my muscles and bloodstream. And then I dropped the syringe again and nearly stabbed my foot, but managed to avoid further injury and got the cap on the sharp and threw it all away.

But afterwards both my leg and hand were bleeding like mtherfckers. And I was a little nervous about being in the house alone, like somehow I'd cause an immediate infection that would spread throughout my body in the course of 5 minutes and I'd be dead on the floor of the bathroom for four days before DYA came home from her trip.

Ok, I really need to stop watching so much CSI. It doesn't really help that we've actually finished a season and switched to Six Feet Under.

I've gotten so absorbed in writing this entry that I just realized U2 was performing on my telelvision. Where's the remote??