Today I went to the doctor. The doctor had the same last name as a quick, cuddle animal: a fox! Neat! There were old people in the lobby, waiting to see the fox. They read magazines with reading glasses on. HAHA. Neat! The receptionist asked for my social security number. "540-01-8344," I told her.
Then it was my turn to see the fox. A hispanic woman called out my name and told me to follow her. Normally I don't follow strangers but she was a weak woman that I could have easily manhandled if she tried anything sneaky. We passed some rooms with fish tanks in them. AQUAQUARIEMS is what they call those. Those must be for VIP clients only, because my room didn't have any marine life.
I want you to know I only screamed for a little bit, dear diary. The fox froze off my 2 warts using some awesome nuclear chemical compound liquid nitro hyglcyceeron that burned like I was being felt up by that fiery guy in the fantastic 4. Isn't it weird that even though I was getting frozen I was burning!? Haha! Neat!
I'm at work now, and it hurts to type! Hahaha the bloody wart area affects my typing! Go figure! Go figure that out! But I'm glad I got it done because now I don't feel like a dirty witch. I'd always feel like a dirty witch when I was alone. I think those feelings will go away now.
There is a downside, dear diary. Since both warts were burned off my right hand, I won't be able to self-pleasure myself for a few weeks. I'm no switch-hitter...going southpaw is NOT an option. How should I handle this, dear diary? Do I take 6 cold showers a day? Can I find a lady friend who can quench the demanding thirst? Do I join a convent? Do I buy a dildo like my friend Sally did? This is quite a dilemma, dear diary.