I am no longer Cyst Face Smada.
Now I am Eisor Eisor Plaster Face.
Want to see a picture?
As you can see my plaster is 'skin colour'. But, unfortunately, not my skin colour. Someone else's. Oh well, I only have to wear it for A WHOLE WEEK.
I already found my celebrity lookalike:
Yes. Nelly. That's cool.
As a tribute, I took a picture of me looking a bit more street:
Ignore the Care Bear posters in the background, they are not in keeping with my new image.
The surgery was traumatic. I was stabbed repeatedly with a comedy sized needle (unbelievably painful) and then cut to ribbons (loudly) with a knife. I say loudly because I couldn't feel or see anything, only hear. And what I heard made me want to projectile vomit all over my self. But anyway, it's over now.
Oh, and I am scarred for life. They forgot to mention that until 30 seconds before the knife was pulled. Yes, a lifelong scar. Cool beans.
4 comments:
What, like Scarface?
Sounds painful. At least it's over with. Cool beans.
Don't forget to update your 'March Tunes'. Pinch and a punch, and all that.
I'm on it. White rabbits white rabbits white rabbits.
Doctors are good at telling you things at the last moment.
I got told while I was in the gown in the room next to the operating theatre that following my knee operation, my chances of getting oesteo arthritis at somepoint in my life would move from 1 in 10 to evens. Thanks.
Hope you're getting over the trauma of surgery.
That's how they get their kicks I think. Pretty fucked up.
I am a lot better now, thank you. Cheers for stopping by.
Post a Comment