i'm only damned in the most literal sense of the word.
today working with henry, our cadaver, i was rather mischevious; more than likely a result of my charmingly hangoverless morning. one of the prosectors how was showing us pectoralis major's bilamenate insertion & she asked us if we had any questions, so i quiped "so, uh, brooke...do you have a boyfriend?" she looked at me absolutely dumbfounded, so i faked akwardness & said "oh, you mean questions about the corpse! um...why are the lateral & medial pectoral nerves switched from the position you would expect them to be in?" later, i asked why the body had THO. half the class responded with "oh no! oh, man." to really get a good image of the scene, imagine a cadaver on a lab table. age it to about seventy (70), & put it in the advanced stages of decrepitude, stick a feeding tube into his belly, & then pretend a team of inquisitive students flayed the left side of his torso to the bone. make the cherry at the top of this visual sunday an erect nipple, & voila.