the waiting room

I have spent too much of my life in waiting rooms, reading Interior Design magazines. Today, waiting for what most likely was my millionth x-ray session at a hospital, I could not find any more of such mags, so I was forced to move to an old issue of Cosmopolitan. What did I learn from reading it? A lot, since it is a thinly disguised soft-core porn mag for girls. The articles were so weak I almost got a headache… so I tried to look at the pictures instead… none one of the men pictured in Cosmopolitan had a shirt on, and they all had perfect abs… and some girl wrote in to complain that her boyfriend hadn’t been able to get it up for eight months… and Freddie Ljungberg’s dick almost jumped up and bit me from beneath his Calvin Kleins… and my star sign was crap as usual…

(And I wish you could see my x-rays)

Later, in another waiting room, waiting for the nice nurse to drain me of blood, I recoiled in silent hospital horror to find that all the mags were meant for the target group of age 60-100. What did I learn from the granny mags? Plenty of ads for pills, some great pastry recipes, and that the hungry fascination for Swedish royalty is still going strong…

(And after a few needles up both my arms, she actually found a few drops deep inside there somewhere)

2 thoughts on “the waiting room”

  1. You are quite right about the magazines. Why are we all supposed to be interested in kings, queens and other celebrities?
    Interior Design Magazines are – when there is one – mostly one or two years old, but still more interesting than the other ones.
    Maybe you should take a book with you next time.

  2. I should have learned that already. If you gotta be dumb, you gotta be tough, as the saying goes. In fact, I spent this morning in another waiting room today (second day of MRSA tests, basic routine before a future operation), and sure enough, got stuck with the Swedish princesses again. The next time I’ll bring Ulysses by Joyce, and my iPod.

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