Flutterings

The doctor and the tech were both fine. It's just the way the machine was configured -- I mean, my chest and my face are pretty much aligned with each other, you know? (It just dawned on me that maybe women with larger endowments don't run into this problem...) So there's my tit in the vise, and I'm having to lean back to dodge the whatever-it-is thingie descending right where my face was a minute ago, and the little beads they tape to one's nipples -- the whole damn process is bizarre, is what.

As for wrassling with greased pigs, it's a common saying here where I live. To be honest, most of my language the past twenty four hours has been considerably ruder -- the assignment is not that hard but my brain keeps stalling out. Yarg.