1. While awaiting phlebotomization yesterday at Cancerland, I thumb through a copy of People magazine. Here is what expert sexologist Bristol Palin has to say on the efficacy of magic fundamentalist christian abstinence-juju sex ed:
“If girls realized the consequences of sex, nobody would be having sex,” says Bristol, sitting at her parents’ lakeside patio table. “Trust me. Nobody.”
2. Here is what my oncologist, Dr Cure, had to say during yesterday’s routine quarterly palpation/ lifestyle /mental health lecture:
“You literally need to have your head examined.”
“Not so fast, lady. Didn’t you just examine it?”
“You are, in fact, clinically crazy.”
Dr Cure is dissatisfied with my cynical worldview. She thinks patriarchy-assimilation therapy will fix me right up. When she revealed the news that it was colonoscopy time, for example, I failed to burst into song or whatever. I suppose Dr Cure celebrates her colonoscopies with a catered affair and a string quartet in a tumor-shaped hot air balloon floating over the Grand Canyon at sunset.
3. While in a fitting room at the mall trying on a pair of shorts, I overhear a conversation between the sales woman and a guy in the next fitting room. The guy is asking the sales woman will his new pants shrink. The sales woman has been waiting all week for the opportunity to impart her laundry knowledge. She looses a torrent of laundry tips on the guy: all shrinkage happens in the dryer. Dryers in this day and age are too hot. Never put clothes in a hot dryer. She even dries her jeans unhotly. The guy interrupts her.
“Oh!” woman answers. “Of course you don’t do your own laundry.”
The guy had wanted to know if the clothes were idiot-wife-proof.