I took a quiz which promised to tell me which Silver Screen Siren I am. I was going to post the result, but it's so laughable, I couldn't do it. As much as I love Audrey Hepburn - and believe me, I do - I couldn't possibly besmirch her memory by putting her up in my space and claiming to be just like her. Tsk.
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My father was rushed to hospital today. He was at the restaurant, lifting a huge pot of boiling water off the gas stove. He was protecting his hands with a towel, but the corner of it got caught on the rack of the gas element, much like a sleeve would catch on a doorknob, jerking one backwards. The same thing happened, and he sloshed boiling water over his bare arm.
Immense agony set in, and my uncle set about preparing an old-school remedy - a remedy my father stands by, by the way - by slathering butter on the burn. Butter! God! Why not just wrap it in rubber so that the heat is sure to stay in! Butter is a sealant, for the love of God! I mean, he was literally frying his arm! The thing is, I've told him before that it's an old wives tale, have explained to him exactly why cooling the skin is important, and sealing the heat in is the worst thing one can do...so... why? Why why why?
Luckily my cousin Zoolander, who has a lick of sense to him, stopped by the restaurant for something to eat. He saw my father in pain, and despite protestations from both he and his brother - Zoo's father - he called 911. When the paramedics came, they confirmed that it was indeed a good idea. They immediately started some kind of cooling process, and upon getting to the hospital, my father was given a shot of Demerol.
He's alright now, back at home with a wrapping from wrist to elbow. He's in quite a bit of pain, as second degree burns will cause that. He intends to go to work tomorrow, though I don't see him functioning well. A nurse will come every night to change the dressings.
I inherited my low tolerance for pain from my father, so I can't even imagine how he's feeling right now. Oh, God. It turns my stomach just thinking about it.
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I called that boy, and left a message. He's not called back. Ah well. Not everyone is as smart as you or I, poppets. Of course, there's still a reasonable amount of time for him to call, but oddly enough, I don't care anymore.
It's all about perspective, I suppose.
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Sadly, we lost a pillar of the Diaryland community today. Chrome Magnum Man's site was in that first crop of diaries I would explore back while I was taking my first tentative steps on this site. The number of times I'd end up back at his address through the links of other diarists is proof of how highly regarded he was. Is. Go in peace, Chrome.
It's been a learning experience of a day, poppets. Time to go to bed.
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