I actually kept my mammogram appointment. I was met with, "Hi! I'm Belinda!" This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, then slip on this gown. Everything clear?"
I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This ain't rocket science."
Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors. With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?'
"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off? My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob wedged between those two 4 inch pieces of square glass) when we heard, then felt a zap! Complete darkness and the power went off!
"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda headed for the door.
"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone are you?" I shouted.
Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you.. Don't worry... The door's wide open, so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be right back."
Before I could shout "NOOOO!" she disappeared. And that's exactly how Leon and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked and part of me dangling from the Jaws of Life and the other part smashed between glass!
After exchanging polite "Hi, how's it going?" type greetings, Leon (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was off.
Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calm as possible "Uh, yes, yes I did thanks."!
"You bet, take care" Leon replied and waved good-bye as though I'd been standing in the line at the grocery store.
Exactly 72 minutes later (I was watching clock between sobs), Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said, "Oh I am sooo sorry! The power came back on, and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"
And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps........
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Top Ten Reasons Why
Item tagged with joke, star wars, star trek
Top Ten Reasons Why the Star Wars Characters Would Kick Ass in the Star Trek Universe.
10) In the Star Wars Universe weapons are rarely, if ever, set on "stun".
9) The Enterprise needs a huge engine room with an anti-matter unit and a crew of 20 just to go into warp --- The Millennium Falcon does the same thing with R2-D2 and a Wookie.
8) After resisting the Imperial torture droid and Darth Vader, Princess Leia still looked fresh and desirable --- After pithy Cardassian starvation torture, Picard looked like hell.
7) One word: Lightsabers.
6) Darth Vader could choke the entire Borg empire with one glance.
5) The Death Star doesn't care if a world is class "M" or not.
4) Luke Skywalker is not obsessed with sleeping with every alien he encounters.
3) Jabba the Hutt would eat Harry Mudd for trying to cut in on his action.
2) The Federation would have to attempt to liberate any ship named "Slave I".
1) Picard pilots the Enterprise through asteroid belts at one-quarter impulse power --- Han Solo floors it.
Top Ten Reasons Why the Star Wars Characters Would Kick Ass in the Star Trek Universe.
10) In the Star Wars Universe weapons are rarely, if ever, set on "stun".
9) The Enterprise needs a huge engine room with an anti-matter unit and a crew of 20 just to go into warp --- The Millennium Falcon does the same thing with R2-D2 and a Wookie.
8) After resisting the Imperial torture droid and Darth Vader, Princess Leia still looked fresh and desirable --- After pithy Cardassian starvation torture, Picard looked like hell.
7) One word: Lightsabers.
6) Darth Vader could choke the entire Borg empire with one glance.
5) The Death Star doesn't care if a world is class "M" or not.
4) Luke Skywalker is not obsessed with sleeping with every alien he encounters.
3) Jabba the Hutt would eat Harry Mudd for trying to cut in on his action.
2) The Federation would have to attempt to liberate any ship named "Slave I".
1) Picard pilots the Enterprise through asteroid belts at one-quarter impulse power --- Han Solo floors it.
Friday, October 17, 2008
You ever make a bet with your colon?
After consuming far too much pizza and donuts during a party, I was faced with the fact I had to poo. Not the good kind that is as patient as you'd like to be; this was the kind of poo that reminds you of the screaming child in the toy store who can't wait until their birthday for a particular toy. The pizza parlor I had walked out of locked the doors behind me, and the rest of the stores in the center were closed for the night as well. I wasn't familiar with the area either, so I bet myself that the 20 minute drive home would be far quicker than driving around blindly looking for a public toilet.
My poo started throwing a tantrum about halfway home. Every pothole I hit was like the wails of my large, smelly child. The cramps were horrendous, and the squeal of every fart seemed like a pump priming itself. A PUMP OF POO!
I had to do a small dance in my car seat to deal with the pain of the impending shitstorm, and raced home ever faster as the pressure built. I tore into my apartment's parking lot and did a horrible parking job in the rush. I didn't care, because realized I was just minutes away from my toilet, but just a few seconds from a colonic disaster. I did a half jog to my room, because walking was too slow and running jarred my intestines too much. The caca countdown began. At 5 I was at my door. 4 saw me with my keys in the lock. 3 had me tearing through the living area to my bedroom door. At 2 I was in my bathroom with my pants around my ankles, and I was fumbling with my underwear. The Brown Bomb went off early, just as I was hovering over my toilet seat.
The first wave hit my undies and jeans, but luckily missed the bathroom rug. I spent a good ten minutes finishing up my dirty work before I was satisfied, and spent an additional 15 trying to get the shit out of my jeans. I simply tossed my tighty not-so-whities into the garbage. The moral of the story? Shit happens.
My poo started throwing a tantrum about halfway home. Every pothole I hit was like the wails of my large, smelly child. The cramps were horrendous, and the squeal of every fart seemed like a pump priming itself. A PUMP OF POO!
I had to do a small dance in my car seat to deal with the pain of the impending shitstorm, and raced home ever faster as the pressure built. I tore into my apartment's parking lot and did a horrible parking job in the rush. I didn't care, because realized I was just minutes away from my toilet, but just a few seconds from a colonic disaster. I did a half jog to my room, because walking was too slow and running jarred my intestines too much. The caca countdown began. At 5 I was at my door. 4 saw me with my keys in the lock. 3 had me tearing through the living area to my bedroom door. At 2 I was in my bathroom with my pants around my ankles, and I was fumbling with my underwear. The Brown Bomb went off early, just as I was hovering over my toilet seat.
The first wave hit my undies and jeans, but luckily missed the bathroom rug. I spent a good ten minutes finishing up my dirty work before I was satisfied, and spent an additional 15 trying to get the shit out of my jeans. I simply tossed my tighty not-so-whities into the garbage. The moral of the story? Shit happens.
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