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My “I don’t want to do diddly shat” day was rudely interrupted when I got a phone call from the very bubbly radiologist. I could tell that she loved her job because there is not enough coffee in this entire world to make a person so full of perky life at 8am. Either that or she was really good at bullshitting in which case I need to take some notes for when I return to work on Monday. I can’t imagine that working with a person who poots glitter and smiles all day is easy to work with. Poot? It’s my new favourite word.
Glitter Pooter called to remind me that my pelvic ultrasound appointment was at 11:40 and that I needed to refer to the instructions I recieved for “preparation”. So I searched my office (office meaning the top of my microwave because that’s where we keep all the important papers and where I strategically slip in my MasterCard bill for my husband to pay) and found the pelvic ultrasound instructions. Basically it said:
Start drinking a shat ton of water 2 hours prior to your appointment and try not to piss yourself.
What’s a shat ton of water you ask? It’s enough water to make your eyes cross. It’s enough water that you stop breathing because heaven forbid you may sneeze. It’s enough water that you lose the circulation in your legs as your waistband cuts into your expanding bladder. It’s enough water that you think that holding your crotch and twirling around your kitchen as you squeeze your inner thighs together will prevent it from seeping. It’s enough water that when you open your mouth and say “Ah!” you can see your kidney’s floating.
In other words, it’s a torturous amount of water.
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