Oh, bitches, please. It’s finally Wednesday, July 13th, 2005. Do I look older? No, really. You are lying. Don’t flatter me, toady. I can see it when I look in the mirror. Do you see these white hairs? Look, this tooth is hanging by a thread, and even a liberal coating of vaseline won’t help my under-eye furrows. Christ, these forehead lines are like twin Mariana Trenches. Since when did I turn into Joan Rivers? This must be a side effect of all my exposure to the elderly lately. Shoulda worn a mask.
So, in the spirit of making ridiculous decisions, I finally found a surgeon who will take off my little toes. You have no idea how happy this makes me. Would you believe I found him in the back of Boston Magazine? There are a lot of questions you have to ask a doctor when you meet him or her for the first time. I like to start with “Have you been to medical school?” However, that’s not a dealbreaker since I know I am adept at many medical procedures just from watching the surgery channel. It’s good to have standards, but let’s not be Nazis.
A friend needs to find a pediatrician for her soon-to-be-pupated larva, and I came up with a handy interrogation list for her: “Have you ever removed a tail? Describe the ugliest child you’ve ever seen. What does foreskin taste like, anyway?” She never got to ask these because some other couple rambled on during the group information session about dumb things like vaccinations. NEXT! I can’t wait to teach her baby to swear and mix momma drinks.