Today I have to have a minor surgical procedure. Which is cagey-speak for don't ask, don't tell because it may or may not involve my bum-bum and a cyst which is my new least favoritest word ever, even moreso than the word turd. I mean, it's not that bad or even that grotty, and obviously I suck at being cagey. Anyhoo. My mom is spending the night tonight to take care of me, so all is well, if a little twitchy and yuck.
I have never been good at withholding information.
See you on the flip side of Vicodin!
UPDATE! Consider yourselves lucky that the doctor would not let me take home what they, er--took out. It has to go to the pathologist. Nor would they let me take a pic of it with my iphone. Something legal, mumble mumble, I'm a freak. But what I want to know is this: why do I always get the doctor who is being trailed by a medical student? That's right, there I was sunny side up being introduced to a young guy who looked like an 18 year old Erik Estrada staring down the barrel of a woman with a lump on her butt cheek. Good times.
Awesome image here.