As in, I could tell when the person grading it got sick of grading it and was all, "Oh, fuckitall" and just gave up and passed me. Y'know, like that.
But we're not getting graded. This is all to tell our preceptors what we need help with (Jo: Needs Help With That Thing Bonking Away In Her Chest) and what to focus on. Which leaves me to focus on a site I just found: Bad Joan.
Let's open our bottle of champagne and break out the pizza, shall we?
I have never heard of this "Marcello Toshi" person, but I want to meet him.
Hmm. Is it a denial of my Methodist roots that I see this as a "going to church" shoe? (if church involves, you know, thigh-high stockings and a fascinator with lace in front...)
So not a "going to church" dress, but still. It's not a dress at all, actually; I think it's a nightgown. That doesn't mean I wouldn't wear it out in public.
Ehrm. NO. All *kinds* of ill-advised.
Okay. Now I feel better. I can go back to studying pulmonary hypertension and emergency drugs now, and maybe file my fingernails (entirely too long for a day on the floor, come Thursday; I'll pop through a glove).