Well if you're reading this, you already know it's you. I walked into the lab today because of chronic diarrhea, and they called you specifically to take care of my case.
You were so cute when you said I had abnormally huge taste buds. When you said you had to have another look at the back of my throat, it was obvious you just wanted to see their freaky fatness once more, and I called you on it.
You then turned completely red, and I don't know if it was because of my grossly exaggerated yet founded accusations or because I wasn't wearing a bra and you left me waiting for like 45 minutes in an industrial AC powered office.
You're gonna be growing five different cultures from my stool in the next week and I have no idea, despite all my funk and resourcefulness, how to make the idea of giving me a call after work seem inspiring.
Between all these questions you're asking me, all of which are related to my loose bowel movements, and the fact that you could lose your license if you got together with a patient, there is just no way I can slip you my number.
I don't really know what to do. I think I'm gonna try to run into you at the end of your internship at this hospital. I hear if it's not in an office, there is no law to prevent me hitting on you, and you taking it up.
If you're not gay that is - cause you sort of give off that kind of vibe too.
But if you're not, where is my highest chance of running into you completely by chance, one morning when I'm not your patient and you're not my hot, out-of-bounds microbiologist?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Posted by Mike at 2:33 PM