From: [email protected]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: Nurse Jones Attacks Blob!
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Date: 15 Nov 91 21:55:57 GMT
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From Nurse Jones,
Yay! The Blob was transferred! Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead!
But before I tell THAT story, I have another question to be answered
by some of the "old hands" on ASB. There is something that just became
conspicuous to me by it's near absence:
This is a newsgroup that deals with BD/SM, right? So how come nobody
EVER (almost ever) refers to themselves as a Masochist or a Sadist?
Someone did, yesterday, and it caught my eye. Just a question.
That's it for ObSexBondage. Time for the "N" key.
Now about The Blob:
She went to a job in admin yesterday. It was wonderful. She really hated
going because she could tell everybody wanted her to, even the doctors.
There was a small go away party for her, staged by her favorite sycophant,
with cupcakes and soda pop as refreshment. Why is it that hyperbaptists talk
about the dangers of self indulgence so much and then tank up on sugary
sticky sweet drinks and cakes? I couldn't even make myself taste it, it
looked so gooey sweet and predictably tasteless, and I'm the most self-
indulgent person I know. Of course, chocolate is completely different....
(in fact, chocolate is more ObSex...)
One of the doctors showed himself to be a wonderful person. I take back
everything I ever said about him. He's a very dapper little Indian gentleman
who is very severe and always serious. He's a good doctor, but demanding to
work for, and never smiles or socializes with anyone. Some of the nurses
used to call him the Asshole of Calcutta. Used to.
But not any more.
In one sentence he redeemed himself. The entire floor worships him.
The Blob went to one of those stupid admin jobs where you don't do
anything. It's sort of like being a football coach or a politician. You have
to be smart enough to understand the game, and stupid enough to think it's
important. She was gloating that she wouldn't be on any "mowah naight
shiyufts" in this new job and telling us all about how clever she was to
wangle this cushy job for herself and she concludes by saying:
"See, I'm not as stupid as y'all think I am."
And Dr. A. Calcutta says, in his absolutely stern and humorless but
somehow musical Indian accent, as though he were correcting a child, "Of
course not, of course not. This would hardly be possible."
Someone sprayed coke out her nose and nearly choked to death trying not
to laugh, and we all clustered around to offer assistance, glad of the
distraction. The Blob, who didn't understand the implication of the good
doctor's remark, squinted suspiciously at everyone, obviously uncertain as
to whether she had missed something. I thought she was going to destroy Dr.
Calcutta, but she just didn't get the joke. I think she really is stupid.
Her parents must be related or something.
And Dr. Calcutta (no, it's not his real name), who still has a
perfectly straight face, looks at this bug-eyed and choking nurse as though
she were a socially unacceptable odor. He had made a funny, and this
strangling purple person didn't have the subtlety to remain inscrutable and
keep his private joke private. He actually seems to have judged The Blob's
lack of perceptiveness with such precision that he could depend on her to
dismiss his remark as foreign nonsense. He walks a thin line. I wanted to
plant a big wet kiss on his cute little bald forehead. He's about the only
man in the hospital I'm tall enough to do that to. But he would have been
outraged, at least on the surface. There's more to him than meets the eye,
though.
He gave me some water from the Ganges River last week for my water
collection. I had been going on about how I collected little jars of water
from important places, and he comes in a few days later with this tiny
bottle of water from the Ganges. He must have had some at home. He was very
gruff, and told me it would be very foolish of me not to have some of this
if I wanted a proper water collection, and then rushes off to do something
Very Important.
I was floored. I melted. It was so sweet, and I KNOW if he had this
water at home he must have valued it. It was the very last thing I expected
from him. Not to mention that that's the most exotic water I have now. I
mean, I have some from San Francisco Bay and some from Niagara Falls, but
now I'm embarrased to put the Ganges River up next to the waterbed we left
in Chicago. Not to mention the rain water from Indiana. Or the tap water
from the first-class bathroom on a flight to San Fran last Spring, which you
may remember if you read The List. You probably think I'm a cretin, and yes,
it's a stupid hobby, but I don't take it seriously and it's not expensive.
So there. And the bottles are pretty in the window. At least I don't collect
souvenirs from Graceland, like The Blob.
You think, maybe, I should start collecting Old Masters?
So anyway, the head nurse for our shift is now (temporarily) The Blob's
able assistant, The Sycophant, until the Nurse Manager makes up her mind who
gets the job. I'm eligible. I've had all the coursework in cardiology, etc.,
and I've been rotating through charge nurse. BTW, someone asked me if I
was an RN or a BSN. My diploma says RN, but I have a 4-year BS degree. There
aren't really many places that have the old RN apprenticeship system
anymore, I guess.
Anyway, I really have no right to sneer at the
Blob's
bucolic
baptist
background.
I apologize. Her parents probably aren't related. Very closely.
Nurse Jones,
who's own family tree doesn't have as many forks as it should,
who has cousins back home that think
a 6-pack and a bug zapper are
"quality entertainment."
and who has,
herself,
on occasion,
been entertained
thusly.
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