Dude,
I don't mind the fact I have to handle your hairy leg and nasty foot several times to get you positioned for your x-ray; I've dealt with infants and drunk strippers before, so you're inability to hold still for more than three seconds, even though you're sober, doesn't bother me that much.
I can even put up with that wierd-ass little giggle thing you've got going on, and the fact that you have a personality that would a better fit for a sixteen year-old girl than a Sergeant in his twenties.
But I swear to God, if I have to listen you say "wheeeeeeeeee!" in perfect pitch for a little girl everytime I handle your damn leg, the next time you show up in the clinic I'm going to "accidently" drop an armload of x-ray cassettes right on your crotch.
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