Anyone who has not read this post, or hasn’t read it recently, needs to go and do so. This is a true Straight Dope classic, as well as being a good guideline for picking one’s cosmetic surgeons (hint: if the “surgeon” wants to be paid in illegal powder, find another surgeon). Another hint: the “surgeon” should not be picking up the medical supplies at the local hardware store.
I couldn’t get the OP’s link to work. However, I can pretty much guess the scenario. I have a teensy amount of sympathy, but mostly I tend to think that some people really shouldn’t be let out in public without a keeper.
Those women may not be complete imbeciles, but please remember that they had cosmetic surgery to have J-Lo’s ass. That would be like me having plastic surgery to have Pauly Shore’s acting ability.
Well, see, now, I gotta disagree with you there. I’m with the women in question about the ass to emulate, if emulating other people’s asses is the thing one is doing. J.Lo’s ass is justfiably revered by the masses.
See, this is one of those situations where I just don’t care. People get killed doing stupid stuff all the time. At least this pair didn’t put others’ lives at risk (like idiot hikers who go out on closed trails, or day sailors who blithely ignore hurricane warnings, and then have to be rescued by S&R or the coastguard). Clearly the “doctor” should be found and prosecuted, but otherwise, this fails to arouse either my sympathy or my disgust.
You’re pitting people who probably didn’t manage to dumbfuck their way into making themselves housebound for a week or ensnarl themselves in legal foolishness. I think the difference between you them narrower than you think.
I saw this case on the news last night. So sad. I don’t know what those women were thinking. I can’t imagine disliking any portion of my anatomy enough to risk back-alley “medical” treatments.
The pit seems to breed the pitting of the pit posters into pitting each other for even doing what the pit is for, namely “pitting.”
For such a bunch of grumps to claim that they bleed with so much compassion and rending of garments for every poor widdle person who dies in the world is worthy of a pitting in it’s self. Please go in the corner and kick yourselves in the ass for a while. Thankyouverymuch.
Those women were very insecure with themselves and they were probably warned about the side effects and blah blah blah, but(t) all they heard was the stuff they wanted to hear.
I don’t know where they are, but it’s a little dismaying that you only ever had one set to your car. I’m not one to talk, though. I lost mine in September, and they still haven’t shown up.
That said, I have the phone number of a guy who can come to your house and make another one (or two ;)) for you. Even if you have the kind that requires a programmable chip to enable the ignition, he can do that.
PM me if you want his number. He’s in OC, but he might be able to refer you to a mobile locksmith closer to your home.
The doctor doing the procedure definitely has the lion’s share of the blame here, but I’m not letting the stupid women off the hook - they wouldn’t be dying if they hadn’t gone to a back alley “doctor” for a ridiculous, unnecessary procedure (I assume the “doctor” didn’t sneak up on them in their own homes and start injecting them - they sought her out).
Thanks, but it’s cool. If I ever decide I just HAVE to leave my house and drive somewhere again, I can find copies around the house. My house just happens to be in super-deluxe chaos mode at the moment, and finding anything at all is a project. When I am sufficiently motivated without being under time pressure to get out of here, I’ll figure it out.
Botox parties were the latest thing a few years ago. Those were often done by certified plastic surgeons. When I was a kid, I went to a pediatrician whose office was in a house that looked like any other house in the neighborhood from the outside. That’s not an infallible indicator of an incompetent doctor.
In my misspent youth, I injected stuff in my veins that was whipped up in places less sanitary than a kitchen. So I ain’t in place where I can throw stones.
But yeah, if I had perished, it would have been as a result of my own stupidity. And some would say I had it coming.
Still, some nice folks woulda found it sad and missed me, and all.
