I won’t be around much for the next few days as I am having a minor outpatient surgical procedure . . . and, no, it’s not any of your business. What IS it with people who feel it is perfectly acceptable to ask “Oh, really? What are you having done?” What’s it to you? I bet you are the kind of person who would put your hands on a pregnant woman’s stomach without asking permission first! The very same type who will look me in the eyes, thus forcing me to point out: “Hullo? my breasts are down THERE!” . . . OK. Fine. If you must know, I’m having a lobotomy so I can be on the same intellectual level as the guys I date, plus I’m having my personality chip removed. Happy now?

So I’m telling a guyfriend on the phone last night: “Right, so my girlfriend will be here tomorrow evening. I figure we can drink right up until 11:59pm, get some sleep and be up at 4:30am to get ready . . . we’ll be at the hospital by 6:30am . . . the surgery will be done by say 11:00am. I’m confident that we can ditch out of the hospital and hit the pub before noon . . . we ought to be good and drunk within the hour . . . then we can go to the local zoo and duck the feces-slinging monkeys . . . at some point we’ll stop at an all-you-can-eat buffet and stuff ourselves until they take down the ‘buffet’ sign . . . after that we can go out dancing . . . What? What was that? Have I been drinking Red Bull? Well, uh, yeah . . . why do you ask?”

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 13th, 2007 at 12:46 pm and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.