I got SHOT

Okay, so I made it to the Dr's office today in the hopes of getting some delicious drugs to chase away the sick. BTW, I misdiagnosed myself first with allergies, then with the cold, realizing I was right about the allergies, which then turned into a sinus infection. The sinus infection hitting a climax last night when I wanted to take a drill to my head to releave the pressures buildup behind my eye socket. Anyway, Dr. L quickly says, "can you take a shot?" I quickly shot back (pun intended), "well, Dr. L, whadda ya got? Tequila makes me evil, but straight vodka makes me gag." He, of course, laughed in reply, and then kind of looked at me funny with this look that I thought was surely going to be followed by a brochure and list of meeting places for the next AA meeting, to which he would offer to drive me to, but only if I was ready to admit I have a problem. I told him, I don't mind getting stuck with a needle if it means the sick will go away faster. "I'll send someone in to get you set up". I then start to think about the time I had to get a shot when I was 12 and how it took 3 nurses to hold me down, ushering my crying brother out of the room (because he couldn't figure out "what are they doing to Charlie?"), and my mom threatening to either disown me and make me walk 36 miles home as tears ran down my face and I hyperventilated because I had just humiliated her beyond belief in front of 3 nurses and a doctor and a couple of passersby that caught a glimpse of the show I was putting on...all because I didn't want to get a shot for Strep Throat. To this day, my mom doesn't like to talk about that day as it is a day that lives in infamy, but I digress. The person giving the shot (in my rockin ass mind you) can never be someone hot. As much as I would prefer it to be a hot male nurse, it would be fine if it were a cute girl (as she might have a cute gay brother to introduce me to), but HELL TO THE NO. I always get Helga, or Olga, or Beatrice, or Sholanda (which I prefer Sholanda because there is nothing like a sassy black nurse). So, in true fashion, today it was Francine. She asked me if I had ever gotten a shot before, I giggled, said yes, and she still felt the need to explain to me how the shot worked. She asked me to drop my shorts, complimented my camo H&M boxer briefs, and stuck me in the rear with the needle. I buttoned my shorts, thanked her, and left.