Ovaries, Why Art Thou Ovaries?
Dec. 14th, 2006 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bliumchikI'm typing a sick note for my mum to sign, and the space bar is erratic. For the last few minutes the note has been about Mydaughter, presumably conceived on Myspace with Myhusband.
I'm also interested to see that the new update page has "Enter a Subject"in the subject line. For a second I envisaged thousands of un-titled entries going to air with "Enter a Subject" at their head, but it disappears when clicked, so I assume it won't actually post with that.
For the record, I'm alright. After the bout of pain was over I felt a bit silly, missing school and going to the doctor's and everything. Not that there would have been much point arriving at school half-way through the Merit assembly. Anyway, my last entry may have been a little... incoherent? See, I took some paracetamol when it started, and then my mum got worried and gave my NoZhpa which is some random Russian medicine that nobody's ever heard of, and the only bit of the label I could translate said "hydrochloride" so the doctor just assumed it was a standard painkiller like aspirin and prescribed Voltarin, which is some kind of relaxant for decramping the spasmy muscles, only according to my grandma NoZhpa loosens things up in there too, so basically I was more or less melting into my dad's huge wobbly computer chair and feeling kind of seasick.
On that note, I'm sure you can all imagine discussing Intimate Matters with your grandmother. Guess what? Mine's a gynecologist. A Soviet-trained gynecologist. Russian medical terms for the win. She's rambling on about why I should take the NoZhpa instead of the Voltarin and I'm just thinking "okay, I get that, I don't know anything about that bit, this makes sense, wait, why is she talking about my neck? What does my ne-oh."
Why must I be a girl? All things considered, I think I could put up with a brain awash with testosterone in exchange for not being blindsided by random abdominal muscles curling up in a knot of PAIN.
Dad: Just think of it as practice for giving birth.
Me: I HATE YOU. AND I'M ADOPTING.
I'm also interested to see that the new update page has "Enter a Subject"in the subject line. For a second I envisaged thousands of un-titled entries going to air with "Enter a Subject" at their head, but it disappears when clicked, so I assume it won't actually post with that.
For the record, I'm alright. After the bout of pain was over I felt a bit silly, missing school and going to the doctor's and everything. Not that there would have been much point arriving at school half-way through the Merit assembly. Anyway, my last entry may have been a little... incoherent? See, I took some paracetamol when it started, and then my mum got worried and gave my NoZhpa which is some random Russian medicine that nobody's ever heard of, and the only bit of the label I could translate said "hydrochloride" so the doctor just assumed it was a standard painkiller like aspirin and prescribed Voltarin, which is some kind of relaxant for decramping the spasmy muscles, only according to my grandma NoZhpa loosens things up in there too, so basically I was more or less melting into my dad's huge wobbly computer chair and feeling kind of seasick.
On that note, I'm sure you can all imagine discussing Intimate Matters with your grandmother. Guess what? Mine's a gynecologist. A Soviet-trained gynecologist. Russian medical terms for the win. She's rambling on about why I should take the NoZhpa instead of the Voltarin and I'm just thinking "okay, I get that, I don't know anything about that bit, this makes sense, wait, why is she talking about my neck? What does my ne-oh."
Why must I be a girl? All things considered, I think I could put up with a brain awash with testosterone in exchange for not being blindsided by random abdominal muscles curling up in a knot of PAIN.
Dad: Just think of it as practice for giving birth.
Me: I HATE YOU. AND I'M ADOPTING.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-14 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-15 12:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-15 12:13 am (UTC)(not for falling, but for not eating the fruit of life first, the silly dumb twit.)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-15 12:49 am (UTC)