May. 22nd, 2004
Ovals of doom
May. 22nd, 2004 05:19 pmI got a package o' medical shit I'd ordered today and found they'd thrown in a free sample of some fancy-ass multivitamin. How pointless is that? As an advertisement I suppose it works just as well as a leaflet without the free sample in it would, but there's certainly no benefit to be gained from including the sample unless their extra-spiffy new vitamin is actually potent enough to have noticeable health effects after only one dose.
I decided I'd take it anyway just to save me a day's worth of my usual multivitamin, but upon opening the package I was forcibly reminded of the reason my usual multivitamin is my usual multivitamin: most multivitamins besides my usual one come in pills THE SIZE OF NEW FRICKIN' ZEALAND.
The three such pills I so foolishly freed from their packaging sit now on my desk: speckled ellipsoids, vaguely resembling dinosaur eggs. The thought of attempting to force them down my throat, already slightly sore, fills me with a sort of horror, yet so does the thought of admitting defeat and simply throwing them away.
So they sit and silently mock me. I attempt to stare them down, but they show no fear; their countenance remains stoic, imperturbable.
This can't last. I predict that by nightfall, I will have thrown one or the other sort of caution to the winds, and either chucked them into the trash in a wanton display of profligacy, or challenged the fuckers head on and subjected myself to a long evening of painful gagging. Probably the latter, because I'm just that much of a masochist in all the most pointless of ways.
(Incidentally, the package also included a sample packet of hair-loss-reducing shampoo. I can't even begin to imagine the rationale for that. I did not order Rogaine from these folks.)
I decided I'd take it anyway just to save me a day's worth of my usual multivitamin, but upon opening the package I was forcibly reminded of the reason my usual multivitamin is my usual multivitamin: most multivitamins besides my usual one come in pills THE SIZE OF NEW FRICKIN' ZEALAND.
The three such pills I so foolishly freed from their packaging sit now on my desk: speckled ellipsoids, vaguely resembling dinosaur eggs. The thought of attempting to force them down my throat, already slightly sore, fills me with a sort of horror, yet so does the thought of admitting defeat and simply throwing them away.
So they sit and silently mock me. I attempt to stare them down, but they show no fear; their countenance remains stoic, imperturbable.
This can't last. I predict that by nightfall, I will have thrown one or the other sort of caution to the winds, and either chucked them into the trash in a wanton display of profligacy, or challenged the fuckers head on and subjected myself to a long evening of painful gagging. Probably the latter, because I'm just that much of a masochist in all the most pointless of ways.
(Incidentally, the package also included a sample packet of hair-loss-reducing shampoo. I can't even begin to imagine the rationale for that. I did not order Rogaine from these folks.)