I'm not a nurse, but I've played one (badly) in a short film. I'm not a time traveler, either, but I'd like to take you back to this weekend, when a DAB of mine and I walked for two hours on a hot summer day and encountered a spider. It turns out, not only did I suffer the humiliation of the "There's a spider on me!" dance, I also am suffering from a terribly ouchy case of chafing! It didn't feel so bad Saturday night, but Sunday morning, after driving to breakfast with a friend, I had to come right back home and sit nude (on a towel) the rest of the day and night, because I had sores on my tushy and high on my inner thighs where there sweaty moist seam clumps in my underwears rubbed against my skin for a long hour walk home. Luckily, I had an almost expired tube of cortizone cream that offered a little relief. It was no fun (I'm still suffering, now). It was then that I thought it would have been nice to have somebody there to play nurse for me. While I enjoyed the company of HANNIBAL, Amazon Prime & Hulu Plus, none of them could roll me over, apply some cream and gently blow to cool my hot tush. They couldn't run out and get me a salad from Hugo's or a crepe from WeHo Bistro, instead of the serviceable tuna sandwich I made myself. (I would have ordered delivery, but I would have had to answer the door nude!) They couldn't tell me, "it's too warm in the living room, go to your bedroom where the swamp cooler hits you better. Idiot."
Such are the Trials of Man Solo; at times when one would prefer to be coddled and receive some TLC, there is no one there. Fortunately, I survived! Could-Woulda-Shoulda, right? Anyway, I finally got a chance to watch TROLL HUNTER!
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