O.K., here's the scene. I'm at work, wearing a white button up shirt and my saucy black polyester vest, And my bow-tie. (why yes, I am sex on legs, why do you ask?). Out of nowhere I get a streaming nosebleed. Not a dribble-down-your face-but-you-still-have-time-to-get-a-tissue-nosebleed. More of a remember-that-scene-from-the-Shining-with-the-blood-in-the-elevators- nosebleed.
White shirt is now splashed with red. I grab a napkin, tilt my head back and start to shuffle to the bathroom when a patron in the corner stands up and walks over to me. I assume it's to make sure my brain hasn't liquifed or to see if I need a hand navigating all the 8 million armchairs and sofas that I can't see because of the BLOOD GUSHING FROM MY FACE (I'm so stupid. I never learn.)
He walks up to me and says..."Can I have a Heineken?"
Wow.
White shirt is now splashed with red. I grab a napkin, tilt my head back and start to shuffle to the bathroom when a patron in the corner stands up and walks over to me. I assume it's to make sure my brain hasn't liquifed or to see if I need a hand navigating all the 8 million armchairs and sofas that I can't see because of the BLOOD GUSHING FROM MY FACE (I'm so stupid. I never learn.)
He walks up to me and says..."Can I have a Heineken?"
Wow.
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