More from Mike:
Holy crap! Four more posts to go! YOU CAN DO IT, PARTICIPANTS. As you can see by my sparse entry above, things are getting a little sluggish. I’ll let up on the accelerator for a day and give us a slow pitch. For tomorrow, follow these directions:
1. Take out your cell phone.
2. Turn it around and take a picture of yourself AS YOU ARE RIGHT THIS SECOND NO CHEATING.
3. Post that pic and describe it. Where are you? Why are you wearing that? Maryface, there’s something in your teeth.
Not the most flattering angle, my eye makeup is a little smeary (already!), and you can't see my best feature -enormous boobs, but at least I don't have any boogers. Anyway, here I am, at work, in a conference room, waiting for my 11am meeting to start.
Pictured above me are past Directors and Head Physicians of the University of Pennsylvania, Obstetrics and Gynecology Division. All men.
I'll include this additional picture as a bonus as it is also hanging in the same conference room, and takes up an entire wall. I usually try to sit with my back to this picture due to the gruesome subject matter:
Pictured is Dr. Ephraim McDowell (1771-1830), performing an ovarian cyctectomy (OUCH OH MY GAH) in 1809. You know they did not have anesthesia back then so that poor woman lying prone on the
operating kitchen table was just given a slug of some homemade moonshine or something like that to shut her up keep her quiet make her comfortable during the procedure.
And those tools are just sitting around, doing nothing, gossiping about Napolean divorcing Empress Josephine because she's a real cow, and talking about going to play cricket a little later, after the maid brings them some hot tea.
And then I'm sure the patient died of massive hemorrhage or infection, because Dr. McDowell probably did not wash his hands before operating. And before operating he helped groom the horses.