Who the Hell Is Nancy? Part 1

Some readers may have noticed that I’ve been sprinkling in mentions of a “girlfriend” who may or may not be named “Nancy.” Perhaps you’re wondering “Who the hell is Nancy?” Nancy has written a three-part series to respond to this query–I’ll post the next entry one week from today, and then the last to follow one week later. Without further adieu:

Jamey has referred to me in a few blog entries as his girlfriend, date, and the cheese to his macaroni (ok, I stole that last one from Juno, but I’m sure he has referred to me as that at some point [Ed: Nope, never]). Well, I figured it was time to be properly introduced. My name is Nancy. There are really only three relatively interesting things about me that I’d like to share. I’ll dedicate this entry to the first.

My Job: I’m a Pharmacist

(Insert one of the following jokes here, whichever one works better):

1. So you can count by fives! How much do pharmacists make? Minimum wage, right?
2. Have you heard Jerry Seinfeld’s skit on pharmacists? “Why does that pharmacist have to be 2 inches higher than everyone else? ‘I’m working with pills up here! I can’t be on the floor with you people! I’m taking pills from this big bottle and putting them in this little bottle! It’s really hard!'”

Yeah, yeah. Hilarious. Actually, I’m a Professor at the University of Charleston School of Pharmacy (no, not beautiful, plantation-home, southern-charm Charleston, SC–old, run-down, toothless, dueling-banjos Charleston, WV). I mold young minds similar to the way I used to mold my mashed potatoes as a kid (and now). I’ve already failed one student. She cried, we hugged, and now she dogsits for me. I had one student make an appointment with me and then when asked what he wanted to discuss, he stated, “I just wanted to see your face again” (should I be worried?).

Anyway, if you ever want to know why it burns when you pee or when that rash will go away, feel free to hit me up for free medical advice! [Ed: Please post all odd rashes/diseases on the comments board.] However, I do charge for visuals. Just ask the lady at WalMart who showed me the rash on her breast (geez, lady! Buy a girl dinner first!).