19 September 2005


So, once again, I’m heading to the dusty far-off. Apparently, there’s a slight risk of Ebola/Yellow Fever/ Malaria/Dengue fever/Decapitation at my destination. The Centre for Disease Control recommends a series of painful jabs, a steel cup and some good running shoes.

“No prob,” Says I as I dial up the Doc’s office. We’ve been diving together before, and his wife despises me. He’d be happy to work me into his schedule, if only to piss-off the old battleaxe.

As it turns out, he’s flown the coop and I am without Doctor. The only one who is taking patients is one Doctor Xiang-Dau Yu. She is fresh out of med school, weighs about 90lbs (42kg) and looks to be all of about twelve years old. Needless to say, this fat, bald yet hairy red neck is a tad bit uncomfortable about the visit; especially as a new patient, she is insisting upon a full physical.

However, Irish Bob put it in perspective for me.

“Think about it, Evil.” He says. “She’s a small Asian lady. Surely that’s the smallest index finger you’ve ever felt, and she’s unlikely to be wearing a class ring.”

Indeed. But I’m still worried about her Rolex Swatch (just read the comments).

Update!: YEOUCH! Nope. It was a Rolex Submariner after all.

And that's the way I likes it.