Also, reasons #65 and #49 why I hate being a Graphic Designer.

If I did develop Cancer (or a mild form of Aquarius), I would definitely see my Chiropractor. They are Pray-Ers (defined as: Those who Pray). Recently, when I was down down down on my health (Constitution - 78, Hit Points: Low and I am a two day walk from the village, there are lycanthropes and trolls in the area - WTF CAN A ROGUE REALLY DO?!!) and procrastinating more heavily than usual, I called them up to cancel yet another rescheduled appointment, whereas they were to give me Graphic Design work and whereas I was to do it for them in trade for a straightened spine and orgasmic neck cracking.
Bah.
I wasn't THAT sick. I just didn't want to work. But damn did I sound sick on the phone. The Oscars shunned me but the Chiropractors office bought a ticket to the show, ordered a big fat tub of popcorn and even splurged for a box of candy.
They - get this - PRAYED for me, over the phone, for my (fake) deathbed sickness.
I - get this - ACCEPTED said healing prayer, over the phone, whilst searching the internet for free porn.

Sweltering little ginger minx cushion, WTF are you talking about.

Do not judge me. I know where I am going, on the back of a 1,000 Harpies, I am told.
Besides, my team of lawyers will pounce upon you. And when they pull me on the stand and ask me to put on the gloves to see if they fit: Oh, you will acquit. You will acquit.

Confession time redux.
I have developed an unhealthy relationship with Cheetos. Our vending machine at work carries them and I am continually draining it of such whilst the rest of the fried/high fat/heart attack fare goes pretty much untouched. After finishing off the entire row (not in one day mind you, I am not that sick yet) this past week and upon walking into the break room this morning, to my very lovely surprise, I found that the vending machine fairy dropped by and replaced all the Cheetos bags. I actually debated dumping the entire lot of quarters I was recently "given" and cashing out in Cheetos (Thank you Client X for paying me for design work in quarters - WTF!?).

They call me Squirrel Gurl (nobody calls you that).