Do you read Bossy's blog? No? WELL YOU SHOULD. Because it is really funny, and clever, and she always refers to herself in third person. So I thought I would take a dip in the waters of "writing like Bossy," if only to spur on my own creative juices.
It all started last weekend. Jamie doesn't know what happened, but on Sunday, she realized that she had intermittent, intense pain directly behind her right shoulderblade. That's scapula, to you laypeople. Oh wait, Jamie is a layperson too. Whatever. It's basically this huge bone that looks like a pig ear, and it lives behind your ribcage. If you didn't know this, Jamie invites you to come out from the rock whereunder you have been living.
Is whereunder a word? It is now. Like underwear, but not. Moving on...
Like any young, immortal person in denial of her own health and general wellbeing, Jamie dismissed her pain. She attributed it to her total lack of physical exercise, and thought, "oh well, it will work itself out."
Until yesterday, when Jamie realized that she couldn't sit and use her computer without feeling as if she were seated upon a chair whose back was made entirely of steak knives. "Awesome," she thought, and called for an appointment with the doctor. Then she consulted her mother, a nurse, who casually informed her that gallbladder pain manifests itself in the shoulderblade region, and did she know that her father had to have his gallbladder REMOVED?! DICK CHENEY'S GALLBLADDER HAS LEFT THE BUILDING, EVERYONE.
Freaked right the hell out, she headed off to dinner with her dear friends.
She spent most of the evening shifting uncomfortably in her very upright chair, looking much like the love child of Men in Hats and the Hokey Pokey. Unable to obtain a non-painful position, she took the next best route. Self-medication.
Fast forward to Thursday afternoon, when the doctor painfully pokes Jamie's back and declares that she has gone and pulled her trapezius. Paging Ringling Bros.! Oh wait - not her trapeze, her trapezius. A large, cross-shaped muscle on the upper back and neck, the trapezious is Latin for "when you injure this, it really f**ing hurts."
Also, Jamie keeps wanting to spell trapezius as "trapezious." Perhaps Jamie should move to England where randomly added vowels are permitted. (Also? Wanting to call it a trapezoid. Which is not surprising, since geometry is the only subset of mathematics that Jamie ever found remotely interesting)
Now, the wait is on until the witching hour (otherwise known as 8 o'clock pm), when she can pop a magic pill and drift off into a sweet, heating-pad enabled haze of sleep and general muscular jiggliness.
The lesson here, kids, is this: writing in third person makes Jamie very tired. She thinks perhaps it's best to leave it up to the pros. Also, sitting at a desk all day with a injury to one's trapezoid is painful and can cause you to look like this:
Jamie says take care.
It all started last weekend. Jamie doesn't know what happened, but on Sunday, she realized that she had intermittent, intense pain directly behind her right shoulderblade. That's scapula, to you laypeople. Oh wait, Jamie is a layperson too. Whatever. It's basically this huge bone that looks like a pig ear, and it lives behind your ribcage. If you didn't know this, Jamie invites you to come out from the rock whereunder you have been living.
Is whereunder a word? It is now. Like underwear, but not. Moving on...
Like any young, immortal person in denial of her own health and general wellbeing, Jamie dismissed her pain. She attributed it to her total lack of physical exercise, and thought, "oh well, it will work itself out."
Until yesterday, when Jamie realized that she couldn't sit and use her computer without feeling as if she were seated upon a chair whose back was made entirely of steak knives. "Awesome," she thought, and called for an appointment with the doctor. Then she consulted her mother, a nurse, who casually informed her that gallbladder pain manifests itself in the shoulderblade region, and did she know that her father had to have his gallbladder REMOVED?! DICK CHENEY'S GALLBLADDER HAS LEFT THE BUILDING, EVERYONE.
Freaked right the hell out, she headed off to dinner with her dear friends.
She spent most of the evening shifting uncomfortably in her very upright chair, looking much like the love child of Men in Hats and the Hokey Pokey. Unable to obtain a non-painful position, she took the next best route. Self-medication.
Fast forward to Thursday afternoon, when the doctor painfully pokes Jamie's back and declares that she has gone and pulled her trapezius. Paging Ringling Bros.! Oh wait - not her trapeze, her trapezius. A large, cross-shaped muscle on the upper back and neck, the trapezious is Latin for "when you injure this, it really f**ing hurts."
Also, Jamie keeps wanting to spell trapezius as "trapezious." Perhaps Jamie should move to England where randomly added vowels are permitted. (Also? Wanting to call it a trapezoid. Which is not surprising, since geometry is the only subset of mathematics that Jamie ever found remotely interesting)
Now, the wait is on until the witching hour (otherwise known as 8 o'clock pm), when she can pop a magic pill and drift off into a sweet, heating-pad enabled haze of sleep and general muscular jiggliness.
The lesson here, kids, is this: writing in third person makes Jamie very tired. She thinks perhaps it's best to leave it up to the pros. Also, sitting at a desk all day with a injury to one's trapezoid is painful and can cause you to look like this:
Jamie says take care.
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