I have a horrible sense of humor. I find obscure things funny and make connections to things that no one outside of my head would. And the term “inside joke” was reserved for me and my brain because we’re like the hippest bestie ever. Eh-va! Well, except maybe my sister who probably has the same random thought floating through her head, even though she won’t admit it. That’s ok Patty Auchenbachenmeisterduex, we’ll tell everybody later.
Also I have like no boundaries whatsoever. I blame my mother. It’s not like she didn’t breast feed me long enough or because she hit me with the red brush when I was little for squirming too much while trying to do my hair for Picture Day. No, she was, is, a nurse. And my sister who is nine years my senior became a nurse. She started nursing school when I was in junior high school therefore a lot of my adolescent and teen years were peppered with medical terms. When I was like twelve I used to look things up in the Taber’s Medical Dictionary (the green one) and diagnosed the family dog, Muffie, with diverticulitis. Well, not the dog, but the patient she was playing in our hospital. She has a file you know. Anyways, growing up where your dinner conversation was about digital stimulation for a bowel program of a man who was a quadriplegic is, well, not normal. Apparently. But it does desensitize you to things that make other people squirm. I can talk about bodily fluids and functions pretty well for someone who is not practicing medicine on a daily basis. I personally don’t enjoy dealing with poop and vomit, but I’ll gag my way through it. Well, scratch that, the dogs’ vomit does me in pretty easily, especially if its after they ate poop.