Things you don’t need to hear from your doctor
Me: And, how are you feeling today, doc?
Doc: Oh, you’ll understand when you get to be my age.
And then he laughs uproariously, as if I’ll ever get to his age.
Nurse: So, when did you get your transplant?
Me: Twelves years ago.
Nurse: Wow! Twelve years? And you’re still doing okay??
Nurse: So, I guess you go to all those rendez-vous with all the other folks with transplants?
Me: Um, no. Never met any, to tell the truth.
Nurse: Oh, it’s great fun, from what I hear. They meet and discuss their experiences, how they’re doing, etc.
Me, thinking: Eek, sounds like a Yulblog meeting. (kidding!)
This can be either really amazing or really annoying
Gnarles Barkley’s “Crazy,” set to the theremin.
There are limits to being part of the family
Came home on Friday, to find a magazine in the mailbox. I don’t recall subscribing to anything lately, so I figured it was a gift for being a volunteer tester for Cooks Illustrated. Catch the name of the addressee, and am surprised that folks now address us as “Thibodeau-Paquette.”
I take an even closer look at the address label. (click for larger view)
Aw, hells naw. Please, someone tell me that I now have to keep an eye out for the dog sending away for stuff. Pretty soon, she’ll have racked up a huge credit card bill for squeaky toys and chewy bones. Because, you just know that CC companies are waiting for her business.
In lieu of content…
I bring you the love that dare not speak its name.
Sweetness overload!
