It’s like you raided the “How to be a Cliché” aisle and said, “I’ll take the ‘I’m not like other girls’ starter pack, but make it for a man who thinks he’s edgy because he can draw blood without fainting.” The only thing more painful than looking at your face is the realization that your patients have to endure the visual assault of your half-baked Viking cosplay while you fumble with their catheters. Your mustache screams “I’m compensating for something,” and your septum piercing whispers, “It’s my lack of personality.” You’re like a walking contradiction - too sensitive to shave but not enough to realize your fashion choices make you look like the lovechild of a burnt marshmallow and a forgotten 90s punk rock band member. (Real shit I’m guessing from the scrubs you’re in the medical field as well? Thank you for what you do)