Yum! SLASH NOT.

Now I submit to you a story. It takes place in biology lab for elementary education majors. Professor Stowers informed us that we would be learning about genetics and passed out to each of us a small strip of paper, instructing us to put them into our mouths. I popped mine onto my tongue, and immediately started spluttering and flailing, making what I'm sure were alarming noises. It was literally THE GROSSEST THING I have ever tasted in my life. I can't even describe how bitter and heinous it was. The TA asked if I needed to leave and I bolted from the room to rinse my mouth out at the nearest water source. I was lucky it was a fountain because I would have used toilet water at that point. I returned to the room with the slow gait of a war veteran. Several people expressed concern, rubbing my back and offering me gum. I gave them a weary, heroic smile as I accepted their sympathy. Professor Stowers said, "You have just taken the PTC test. Some people can taste the toxin, some can't. How many of you could taste it?" NINE OTHER PEOPLE RAISED THEIR HANDS. I'm pretty sure I was the only one who had a breakdown. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Next, we did finger pricks to learn our blood types. There was an air of anticipation in the room, as if learning our blood types would unlock some important secret about our true selves. Everyone was given a lancet to prick their finger, and no one could seem to get themselves to poke hard enough to draw blood. In order to prove to my table mates that I am not totally pathetic, I grabbed the lancet and eagerly jabbed my finger. Blood spurted out all over the table, which was not overly appreciated by the others. I told them that I don't have AIDS or anything so it was okay, but they didn't seem convinced. It doesn't really matter though, they are already trapped into doing a group project with me and they can't get out of it now, so. You know. What can you do.