Smot Poker*
I had another follow-up visit with my ENT today. For well over a week I’ve been breathing well, haven’t had any headaches and have managed to not get pink eye. All of these are huge accomplishment considering how the beginning of my year went. So I wasn’t expecting him to find anything when he took a gander up my nose with his rubber camera hose. I, however, was not expecting this conversation:
ENT: Everything looks good up there. You’re wide open. You could smuggle cocaine in to Columbia with those cavities.
Me: *blink. blink*
ENT: Although I guess you’d want to smuggle it out of Columbia. Not in.
Now he’s a great doctor [and a good looking guy], but I’m starting to get a little concerned he’s taking some hits off the groovy twig.
*I tend to call people “pot smokers” when they do something not so bright. But one day I was talking to my mom on the phone and we were discussing the idiots that work for a large national bank. *coughbankofamericacough* I was trying to say they were pot smokers, but was so worked up about just how incredibly stupid they could be that I accidentally said “smot pokers.” So now that’s a big inside joke. Although since I just told the whole internet I guess it’s no longer “inside.”
