Or Not

My doctor, who I have dubbed "Dr. Hottie" (oh yes, he is tasty), informs me that my boob will not actually eat a city. It's not growing, it's swelling. Whatever. He also told me that I should oil it up and massage it. I'm not making this up. On the surface, I was cool. Oh, really? OK. In my head, though, the porn music was playing. You look like you need a massage... bah de chick-a wah wah, bah de chick-a wah wah....

The Boob That Ate Manhattan

Lefty looks bigger than righty. Maybe I'm not going to get super powers from the radiation, but possibly my boob will become a world-wide menace that can only be stopped by saltwater. Rolling to a town near you.

Deep Fried

I start radiation therapy on Monday. I am supposed to get a "sun burn," which is a doctor euphemism for "radiation burn."

But I won't have super powers. At least, not any more than I already have. I was bummed out, because I would really like to be able to fly.

Strange Days at Wendy's

All I wanted was a Junior Cheeseburger Deluxe. That's all. After trying to give me the order belonging to the next car in line at the drive-thru, the INCREDIBLY ANGRY manager tried to "help" me out.

Mr. Angry: What did you have?

Me: Junior Cheeseburger Deluxe

Mr. Angry: Regular?

Me: (wasn't it deluxe?) What?

Mr. Angry: (thinks I'm deaf) REGULAR?????

Me: Um... yes?

Mr. Angry: Did you pay already?

Me: Yes! (hello?)

Mr. Angry: OK.

Telephonis Moronis

My direct number at work used to belong to a mortgage company. When my caller ID shows a number I don't recognize immediately, I generally answer with my company's name, just in case. And yet, 9 out of 10 people will just launch into what they intended to say, regardless of what I say. I would like to say "Pizza Hut," or something equally unmistakable, except that I don't always recognize our own clients' phone numbers right off the bat. And I wouldn't especially like to be unemployed.

Probably the funniest call I got was from the toner pirates. I get this term from one of my former jobs, where we got a call offering us toner at rock bottom prices, from some company with which we had never done business. Upon calling our copier rep, he said, "Them's toner pirates, honey!" The toner pirates called here, probably thinking they were calling the mortgage company, and asked for the serial number of my photocopier so they could get some toner out to me for a lower price than anybody else.

Me: We don't have a photocopier.

Pirate: You don't?

Me: No, the building owns them, we just use them.

Him: *click*

Sometimes, it's fun being me.

Bust of Homer

This is worth listening to. Several times. Heck, as many times as you want to listen to it. Screw the man! Penis. Hehe, penis.

You're Among the Little People Now

Sign seen on the way to the beach:

ELECT MIDGETT SHERIFF

OK, I know the explanation for this, but I don't care. I wanted to steal the sign. Just because.

Boobs, Part II

DCIS and you. Well, OK, DCIS and me. This is a very lovely form of pre-cancer that happened to be growing in my boob. What the hell is pre-cancer? Can you get pre-heartburn or pre-diabetes? Can you be pre-pregnant? At any rate, I have had several gnarly decisions to make in the last month or so. Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm also planning my wedding?

Decision number one: to amputate or not to amputate. OK, so I figure I might want my boob for later. If they're giving me a decision, and they feel like it's 6 of one and half-dozen of the other, I'm keeping it. See below, liking to keep my body parts for as long as I possibly can. This means 6-1/2 weeks, Monday-Friday, of radiation therapy, a nifty tattoo, a painful sunburn (er, radiation burn), and lots of follow-up mammograms. But hey, I still have a matched set.

Decision number two: drugs? I have the option to take tamoxifen, since my little guy fed on estrogen. This was a fairly simple decision. Just read the side effects. Let's see, birth defects, blod clots, strokes, endometrial tumors... wait, a cancer preventative drug causes cancer? Umm, OK I think I'll pass.

On the Way to Cheeseland

We flew through Cleveland to get to Madison, and as we flew over the city en route to the airport, definitely over Ohio... the woman behind us noticed the large body of water and pointed it out to her child.

Oooocean. Can you say ocean? Oooocean.

All I can say is, no wonder Americans are dumb. It's hereditary.

The Hint from Heloise for Today

Always make sure that the lid to the creamer is securely fastened BEFORE you shake well.