For those of you who were hoping to see some bondage action in this series, I disappoint you yet again.
In other news, I got my first EpiPen today. An EpiPen is a little gadget that injects adrenaline into your body to make sure you don't die from things like bee stings and peanuts, if you're the kind of person who tends to die from those things. If you're not, it just gives you a wicked high. I've somehow managed to survive 24.75 years of peanut (and possibly bee sting) allergy without ever using, or even owning, such a device (despite frequent airplane rides and encounters with people like Lydia), but now that I'm becoming a big responsible adult I figured it was time to start looking out for myself. I'm also eating less poison.
When the pharmacist gave it to me she insisted that I go and have a nurse train me on how to use it. She said it had to be injected at just the right angle, that the angle was really important, that I needed a nurse to show me the angle, that I would totally die if I didn't get the angle right. So I checked out the instructions that were included in the goddamned box and found the magic angle to be .......... 90 degrees. Call me hubristic, but I think I can handle that without seeking the aid of a nurse with a protractor.
So, dear friends, if we're ever hanging out and I start wheezing, swelling, and generally going into conniptions, kindly search my pockets for an amber-colored tube, jab me in the thigh with it, and keep it there until I ask for more. Charles Darwin will stir slightly in his grave, and I'll live to write another long and boring story about being allergic to peanuts.