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Mar. 6th, 2005 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boglinMonday began with a vaginal swab, which is never the *best* way to start the week.
The medical practice at the top of the road with which I'm registered is - as far as NHS practices go - pretty good. They have a 'lady doctor', which is handy when you need to go in with the opening gambit: 'I've got a problem with my bits.'; and the practice nurses are quite understanding about a woman's natural reluctance to have her old IUD pulled out.
But the trouble with gynecology, is that it's never going to be *fun*. Knowing you're about to get an ice cold speculum shoved up your vagina (because it's against health and frigging safety to warm it up to body temperature under the hot tap these days - exactly *whose* health and *whose* safety I do not know, as I'm sure 5 degrees warmer would do a hell of a lot for mine) is nothing like those happy memories of having your polio vaccination on a sugar cube and strawberry flavoured antibiotics.
You don't even get a sticker anymore.
But still, they do try to make it as pleasant as these experiences possibly can be. Pasted to the ceiling above the bed on which you lie, whilst waiting for those words "Ankles together and knees floppy", is a cheery poster of an orangutan, with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead like some hairy orange goth.
And, as you ruffle yourself upwards on the rough extra wide paper towel they put down to catch all those superfluous dollops of cold KY, you can admire the pretty flowery curtains they draw for the 30 seconds it takes you to 'get yourself ready' (I've never quite worked put why you need privacy to take your pants off and lie down before they come in and shine the flashlight up your nether regions, but there you go.)
And to be honest, I've yet to come across the pastel shade which will have the sufficient calming affect to counteract those fateful words 'Now I'm afraid this is going to be a *little* cold'...
I would like to say that the week got better from there on, but seeing as Thursday was a parents' evening I'd be lying. There comes a day when you realise that you can no longer find socially acceptable ways of telling parents that their children are stupid, and the best SMART target for the objectionable little shits is simply not to produce any further generations in order to stem the spread of their intellectually inadequate genes.
Still, at least the weekend gave me the chance to introduce![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lupercal to the experience that is rollercoater, heading up to Alton Towers for the last ever day that the Black Hole was open. Seeing the face of a man who has just ridden Oblivion for the first time is a joy indeed.
Apparently there were two goth parties this weekend, of which I managed to remain blissfully oblivious until it was too late. One of them was even, I believe,eddy_'s moving in party at wherever he's moving in up the road. Which seems rather odd indeed as he's still here, and some people's Friday evening, rather than at a party, was spent cleaning up the chicken bones that he'd left unsecured for veelow to distribute around the kitchen.
Which reminds me - I should take out the rubbish.
For now it appears to be Sunday evening once more, with another Monday morning looming like a large viscous puddle of cat shit around the corner.
Still, at least there's no vaginal swab tomorrow morning...
Yes, gentle reader - after 40 days or however long it was in the desert, I've come back. I did consider starting a new LJ under a new name, or trying to get my user name changed on this one, but in the end I decided that would be a purely cosmetic procedure, and after all - who else would I be? And seeing on balance many more people were bothered about the disappearance of a boglin than the existence of a Jane, I thought it might be more logical to keep the online persona and drop the RL one. There are, I suppose, several reasons for coming back here. You can be assured that keeping up to date with your tawdry life experiences is the least important. I've found that I've been writing less - that taking a break from the trivial and the bitty has dried it up rather than let me focus on Important Things. I miss being able to just sit and type crap for ten minutes or so when I'm bored. I find that if you're obnoxious in Real Life rather than online then there's a greater chance that someone will punch you. But the most important thing for me is that I find I've got no record at all of my life so far this year, other than the few entries thatlupercal has made. And these are precious days; days I don't want to lose - but I know that if I leave them to my memory, I will. For above everything else, this is my Remembrall. And even though scenes change, and places change, and you realise the thing you were five years ago doesn't belong anymore, you still have your words to remind you of the once was, to ground you in the what is now, and to launch you off into the what's to come...
This post was brought to you by a Sunday evening alone, and Lowenbrau.
The medical practice at the top of the road with which I'm registered is - as far as NHS practices go - pretty good. They have a 'lady doctor', which is handy when you need to go in with the opening gambit: 'I've got a problem with my bits.'; and the practice nurses are quite understanding about a woman's natural reluctance to have her old IUD pulled out.
But the trouble with gynecology, is that it's never going to be *fun*. Knowing you're about to get an ice cold speculum shoved up your vagina (because it's against health and frigging safety to warm it up to body temperature under the hot tap these days - exactly *whose* health and *whose* safety I do not know, as I'm sure 5 degrees warmer would do a hell of a lot for mine) is nothing like those happy memories of having your polio vaccination on a sugar cube and strawberry flavoured antibiotics.
You don't even get a sticker anymore.
But still, they do try to make it as pleasant as these experiences possibly can be. Pasted to the ceiling above the bed on which you lie, whilst waiting for those words "Ankles together and knees floppy", is a cheery poster of an orangutan, with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead like some hairy orange goth.
And, as you ruffle yourself upwards on the rough extra wide paper towel they put down to catch all those superfluous dollops of cold KY, you can admire the pretty flowery curtains they draw for the 30 seconds it takes you to 'get yourself ready' (I've never quite worked put why you need privacy to take your pants off and lie down before they come in and shine the flashlight up your nether regions, but there you go.)
And to be honest, I've yet to come across the pastel shade which will have the sufficient calming affect to counteract those fateful words 'Now I'm afraid this is going to be a *little* cold'...
I would like to say that the week got better from there on, but seeing as Thursday was a parents' evening I'd be lying. There comes a day when you realise that you can no longer find socially acceptable ways of telling parents that their children are stupid, and the best SMART target for the objectionable little shits is simply not to produce any further generations in order to stem the spread of their intellectually inadequate genes.
Still, at least the weekend gave me the chance to introduce
lupercal to the experience that is rollercoater, heading up to Alton Towers for the last ever day that the Black Hole was open. Seeing the face of a man who has just ridden Oblivion for the first time is a joy indeed. Apparently there were two goth parties this weekend, of which I managed to remain blissfully oblivious until it was too late. One of them was even, I believe,
eddy_'s moving in party at wherever he's moving in up the road. Which seems rather odd indeed as he's still here, and some people's Friday evening, rather than at a party, was spent cleaning up the chicken bones that he'd left unsecured for veelow to distribute around the kitchen.Which reminds me - I should take out the rubbish.
For now it appears to be Sunday evening once more, with another Monday morning looming like a large viscous puddle of cat shit around the corner.
Still, at least there's no vaginal swab tomorrow morning...
Yes, gentle reader - after 40 days or however long it was in the desert, I've come back. I did consider starting a new LJ under a new name, or trying to get my user name changed on this one, but in the end I decided that would be a purely cosmetic procedure, and after all - who else would I be? And seeing on balance many more people were bothered about the disappearance of a boglin than the existence of a Jane, I thought it might be more logical to keep the online persona and drop the RL one. There are, I suppose, several reasons for coming back here. You can be assured that keeping up to date with your tawdry life experiences is the least important. I've found that I've been writing less - that taking a break from the trivial and the bitty has dried it up rather than let me focus on Important Things. I miss being able to just sit and type crap for ten minutes or so when I'm bored. I find that if you're obnoxious in Real Life rather than online then there's a greater chance that someone will punch you. But the most important thing for me is that I find I've got no record at all of my life so far this year, other than the few entries that
lupercal has made. And these are precious days; days I don't want to lose - but I know that if I leave them to my memory, I will. For above everything else, this is my Remembrall. And even though scenes change, and places change, and you realise the thing you were five years ago doesn't belong anymore, you still have your words to remind you of the once was, to ground you in the what is now, and to launch you off into the what's to come...This post was brought to you by a Sunday evening alone, and Lowenbrau.
