Just Spank It

A 90 year old patient comes into our office. His cute old wife and middle-aged son are in our waiting area for him while I take him to his room. The old man is dressed very nicely, has a respectable comb over, basically exudes the typical grandfather aura. As I walk him back to his room to see his therapist, I can tell he's a bullshitter so I go along with his antics. Occasionally going along with it can backfire, but if it does it is usually with younger guys who mistaken my banter for interest. But I can usually see it coming well before they cross the line and make the weird and inappropriate comments that usually start with, "You have beautiful eyes" or "So I noticed you're not wearing a ring." It's like watching a train derail. You must get the train back on track or you will possibly be scarred for life. Some days though, the train wins.

As the old man gets situated in the chair continuing to rattle on, I try to politely end the conversation by walking halfway out of the room while my other half hangs onto the door with my left hand. I then see this 90 year old man eyeballing my hand. This is what I heard:

"Well if you're not married, why don't you shut the door and stay awhile. Something might pop up!"

Minutes went by as I sat at my desk pondering this violation of everything good and pure I've known grandfathers to be. Was it possible that I misunderstood? I looked in his chart to see if dementia was documented anywhere. Nope. All systems were clear. And no crazy meds. I had just been perved.

My boss thought I had misunderstood him, so in a strategical maneuver as my boss, she made me sit, as bait, at the desk by the exit to see if he would say something else to me. She busied herself with her back to me, listening as he shuffled by me. He paused. As God, and Ginger, is my witness:
"Just remember, if something pops up, just spank it!"

The Short Of It

My hair is long for a very obvious reason. It elongates the face. And why do I need to do that?

Because I inherited the Moore curse of chipmunk cheeks. No matter how slim I get, I still look like I'm storing nuts for the winter in my face.

Such is the dismay of girls with round faces. Our hair choices are limited. And after having long hair for most of my life, it is somewhat of a security blanket. It's a strange thing to feel the wind on the back of your neck when it's been covered up. Even wearing a ponytail seems weird and unnatural. But I'm tired of looking the same. I think a change would do me good. :)

So it's been awhile. I pretty much knew I would fail at keeping up with this. But I have nothing better to do while I'm waiting for some some bread to bake. And I am making myself stay in tonight, so I'm going to share some recent silly stuff. I think I may break them up into separate entries to make it more fun. Since my last entry in 2008, I have acquired an intestinal disorder, felt the temptation to cut my hair short, was perved on by a 90 year old at work, made a new gay man friend, thought of a genius way to supplement my income, and I met Cha Cha.

Yes. I have been busy.

The intestinal disorder...eh, not so great for the 5 days it drained me of every fluid in my body. Were I not such a camel anyway, I would have shriveled up in the first day. Probably a medical mystery. It was a violent thing with little sleep and long days at work. I walked out on several patients in mid-sentence so I wouldn't make a mess of things... And one night, my stomach growled so loud that it woke me from a dead sleep. Just so happens that at that very moment I had been dreaming that I was pregnant with a vampire lovechild that was trying to rip its way out of my body. (It did present initially with nausea and the smell of food made it worse, typical symptoms of morning sickness...) And we all know that if it could happen, my luck would get me impregnanted by a vampire, or I would immaculately conceive a wildebeest. We'll see if it's either on Friday when I visit with Dr. Mertz.