...and I'm not going to take it anymore! Network. Netflix it.
So today my parents took me to the "pediatrician." I put the word pediatrician in quotes, because I swear it was more like a dungeon mistress! She came at me with this long, pointy needle and jabbed me over and over in the leg! I'd prefer waterboarding if you please.
As an aside, you other babies reading this, who's with me that drinking from a bottle with a high-flow nipple may as well be waterboarding. Who feels me? I hope the ACLU is working overtime to make sure the military isn't feeding our gitmo detainees with those things. OK, my mom wants me to mention that she's not actually using high flow nipples, but I hear it's bad.
OK, back to the jabbing affair. So she jabs me and actually draws a drop of blood from my leg and then tries to make things better by putting on ... I am not making this up ... a bandage with a Gardasil advertisement on it. Is there no end to where these drug companies will market themselves? Now on injured babies? What's next, advertisements for Viagra branded on puppies?
Anyway, I know that this whole sordid affair is for my own good. I know that Gardasil (the HPV vaccine) will ensure I don't get cervical cancer, in the unlikely event that I have a cervix. And I know these vaccines the dungeon mistress just pumped into me will make sure that other dirty San Francisco children (you know who you are!) don't get me sick. But it sure hurt for about 20 seconds. I'm glad my parents were there to make me feel all better!
Love,
Spencer
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