So I stopped by the office, got a form, filled it out, and went right in. The attendant nurse was cracking up about something. I was confused so I took a few steps forward. I caught the comment, "God, his printing is even worse than my son's!"

She looked up at me and laughed. She started explaining that she knew just from looking at my form that I must be a pre-med. Apparently the worst your hand-writing is, the better of a doctor you are...and mine was apparently shameful .

I'm not pre-med, but I'm involved in and around medical type stuff. I took the quasi-compliment well.

So I got the shot and it was painless. Needles used to bother me as a kid, but I was like "yeah, hm, needle, ah well...oh, that's it? Cool."

She wished me a good day and good luck with medical school. Well, at least I impressed someone with my atrocious writing skills. That makes me happy for some obscure reason.

Earlier tonight, around now, my lab partners and I tried getting recordings for psychophysiology. Apparently none of us have a pulse. Technically, we're medically dead. Sure we can feel our own, but we may be suffering from some massive group delusion brought about by bad salmon or something.

My death aside, this leaves me more time to read. I'm thinking an all-nighter might get me in a good position to do what I need to do. I want to drink...really, really want and need a drink, but that'd just make me tired.

Maybe I can collect on my life insurance...

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