Researchers have found they can attach tiny studs of silver to harmless bacteria, giving them the ability to destroy viruses. They tested the silver-impregnated bacteria against norovirus, which causes winter vomiting outbreaks, and found they leave the virus unable to cause infections." (from the Brisbane Times)
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| Formerly harmless bacteria, after studding |
This discovery raises a host of important questions. However I intend to ignore all of them and ask these instead.
Does this mean that people with piercings (and silver studs) don't get colds?
Can I avoid a cold by (a) Getting various body parts pierced? or (b) Spending a lot of time in close proximity to, say, some hot Goth chicks with lots of studs & rings?
Will body piercing now be available under the PBS?
And above all, how do they attach the studs?
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| Possibility 1 (fun) |
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| Possibility 2 (boring) |
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| Possibility 3 (Tiny silver studs also kill Zombies & Werewolves) |
Laughed my own coffee out my nose thanks to that post.
ReplyDeleteIn an act of teen rebellion and against my father's wishes, I went out one fine day and got my ears pierced. Six times - three holes in each ear.
ReplyDeleteWith lovely silver studs.
Turns out I'm allergic to silver.
Three days later Dad had me down at the local GP, ears raw and swollen, and he laughed so much he said that the result was worth my disobedience.
Three of the holes got so badly infected that I had no choice but to let them heal up and 30 years later I still can't bring myself to return to a hole punching salon and have balance restored.
Which means I just have to deal with random strangers walking up to me at the pool and saying 'I think you've lost an earring...'
Bloody parents.
How was I to know that this time the drunken old fool would be right?
I pierced my own nose once. I used one of those ear studs you see on racks at the chemist. I.e, it was far too big.
ReplyDeleteMy bestie and I were heading out on the town. So we got royally trashed on Port, and I stuck a needle in the side of my nose. I fainted. So did my bestie. When I came to, I fortified myself with more Port and tried again. The needle went through. Oooh, boy, did it hurt!
I had more Port.
Then I tried to insert the stud. It was tricky, as too much Port has a habit of creating double vision. So I kept sticking the stud into the wrong hole. Finally, I made myself go cross-eyed. Now there were three holes, so I stuck the stud into the hole in the middle. But the needle hadn't quite penetrated the skin at the back. I fainted again.
More Port.
My bestie came to, and reached over to give the stud a shove. Success!
Bleeding and staggering, I followed her to the waiting taxi. I don't remember the rest of the night, although I've been assured that the Port theme continued unabated.
The next day, my nose was the size of a tennis ball. I persevered with antiseptic sprays, and two weeks later my nose was almost back to normal. If you can call a lump of metal in your nose normal, that is.
Then my bestie and I went on a pub crawl organised by the office social club. At the second pub, we stumbled across her boyfriend, who was in a rather compromising embrace with a barmaid. Bestie was devastated. She attempted to drown her sorrows with the most expensive cocktails she could find. (She had his credit card. Lucky, or what?). Before long, she was legless, snotty from sobbing, and talking crazy talk about revenge and violence.
I was getting worried, so when she went to the ladies' room, I followed her to try and convince her to go home and sleep it off. She yelled "not on your nelly!" (the pub crawl still had two pubs to go) and reefed open the door to flounce off. The door hit me fair in the face, ripping my stud right out of my nose.
Talk about blood! I went home and patched myself up, muttering dark things about my bestie. The next day she dropped in to visit, and asked me "What happened to your nose?" The short answer? "You did." Yes, there were profanities, but she was my bestie, so all was forgiven. Especially as she still had her (now ex) boyfriend's credit card, and shouted me another night on the town. Not that I remember it.
I still have the scar on my nose. Whenever I think about getting more piercings, I look at the scar, and buy a bottle of Port instead.
I pierced my own nose once. My bestie and I got royally trashed on Port, and I stuck a needle in the side of my nose. I fainted. So did my bestie. When I came to, I fortified myself with more Port and tried again. The needle went through. Did it hurt!
ReplyDeleteI had more Port.
Then I tried to insert the stud. But Port has a habit of creating double vision, so I kept sticking the stud into the wrong hole. Finally, I made myself go cross-eyed. Now there were three holes, so I stuck the stud into the hole in the middle. But the needle hadn't quite penetrated the skin at the back. I fainted again.
More Port.
My bestie came to, and reached over to give the stud a shove. Success!
I don't remember the rest of the night, although I've been assured that the Port theme continued unabated.
The next day, my nose was the size of a tennis ball. It took two weeks to get back to normal. If you can call a lump of metal in your nose normal, that is.
Then my bestie and I went on a social club pub crawl. At the second pub, we spotted her boyfriend in a rather compromising embrace with a barmaid. Bestie was devastated. She began drowning her sorrows with the most expensive cocktails she could find. (She had his credit card. Lucky, or what?). Soon she was legless, snotty from sobbing, and talking about revenge and violence.
I was worried, so when she went to the ladies' room, I followed her to try and convince her to go home and sleep it off. She yelled "not on your nelly!" (the pub crawl still had two pubs to go) and reefed open the door to flounce off. The door hit me fair in the face, ripping my stud right out of my nose.
Talk about blood! I went home, muttering dark things about my bestie. The next day she dropped in to visit, and asked me "What happened to your nose?" The short answer? "You did." But she was my bestie, so all was forgiven. Especially as she still had her (now ex) boyfriend's credit card, and shouted me another night on the town. Not that I remember it.
I still have the scar on my nose. Whenever I think about getting more piercings, I look at the scar, and buy a bottle of Port instead.
Elderly Englishmen can get red noses from drinking port, but I think they do it differently. Without the blood & so forth.
ReplyDeleteAre you saying I am like a bloody elderly English gentleman? Why, thank you. I think.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I seem to have double posted all over your nice clean blog. So sorry, dear chap. Feel free to delete one or t'other of them.
I wouldn't spend any time hanging around cute young Goth chicks, Greybeard. I'm pretty sure Fifi would make sure that resulted in a dramatic REDUCTION in your life span.
ReplyDeleteOh. Ah. Um, you must be mixing me up with the OTHER Greybeard. The one who's married to "Lorena Bobbit was a soft-hearted wuss" Fifi. HE would never even look at cute, hyper-intelligent goth chicks. Oooh no.
ReplyDelete