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I will give you money… and kittens.

Issue Date: Monday, Mar. 21, 2005

Rain Rain
Go Away
Come Again
Some Other Day like when I’m not wearing the cute pink sweater, my hair is bangin and I have to go to the dermatologist at lunch. Bastard.

So… making appearances in my dreams last night were (in no particular order):
1) Miss Piggy, trying to sue me for libel because I wrote a letter to her using her surname.
2) Stockard Channing trying to run over me with a bicycle because I wouldn’t go to a charity event… Miss Piggy was going to be there, that bitch.
3) David Hasselhoff holding me on his hip while we were talking at a bar because apparently he is the very tall and I am the short. We were arguing because he wouldn’t buy me a red pin with white letters at a street/mall vendor for 95 cents that said “FUCK TAXES” and a very ugly ankle bracelet. I refused to call it an anklet because it had bells on it. Don’t ask. It was a very heated argument. The bouncers were almost involved.
4) I bought three books for 35 cents [What is it with me being a cheap ass in my dreams? With all these things for cents?] from someone who looked suspiciously like Dennis Miller yelling at Andy Dick. A BALD Andy Dick. It was very uncomfortable because Not-Dennis Miller would be all sugary sweet to me then be fire-breathing evil to Bald Andy Dick. I suspected the reason I got the books from Not-Dennis Miller for that bargain basement price was because they were Bald Andy Dick’s favorite books and he was just being mean to Bald Andy Dick.

I have Annie Lennox’s album Diva in my cd player right now and Little Bird is playing. I want to dance around the office. The urge only gets worse with Money Can’t Buy It comes on.

Although, I have to admit… my mind grabs onto things.

This album came out in 1992, my sophomore year of college… so I have a bunch of stuff that I relate this music to. But when Striptease came out in 1996 and we all saw Mrs. Moore ripping that white button up shirt off of her bod and throwing that hat when the song picks up the pace in Money Can’t Buy It… I have to say… sometimes my mind still thinks about that scene of the movie rather than my exploits in 1992 and 1993 in my little 4-door Oldsmobile.

I went to the dermatologist at lunch.

And quite unlike the (second to) last time I went to visit Hacky the Ginzu Monkey… er I mean Dr. Winn… Medicine Woman, heh… when she hacked me to death with a scalpel and it took (seriously) over six months for the wound to even close (Friggin hack. Hate her. Hate.) Dr. T was competent and very gentle.

When I went back to get my follow up appointment to show Dr. Winn… Medicine Woman… the (HORROR!) (And DAMAGE!) progress me and my pitiful little leg had made after the slashing and the stabbing! I asked her staff to, “Please for the love of all that is good and holy, can you switch me over to Dr. T’s roster? I will give you money… and kittens. Whatever it takes. Just don’t let Yoko stab me anymore!”

That was back in 2003.

So when I called in a few weeks ago to make an appointment to have an angry freckle/moley thing looked at, they said, “Dr. T will see you on the 21st at 11:30 am.”

And I wept. With joy.

So, in I went to see Dr. T. My appointment was for 11:30, and holy shit… I was in the office at like 11:45. Dr. T was looking over my whole body like I was Bonnie and he was looking over the ocean. ??? What the hell? Sorry, must be the Tourettes. Or the tards. He was So efficient. And at like 11:59 he was already prepping me to take off the scary angry moley/freckle thingy on my left arm.

It was brown and mad. Kind of like a weasel.

He deadened it, shaved (eeew) it off and poof… it was done…. No need for hacking and drilling Ginzu-bitch! No need for stitches either… see? This guy is good… You? You suck Dr. Winn Medicine woman. Go back to… whatever charm school you flunked out of mean woman. Hate you.

Oh, did I already mention that?

Well, you should see the scar. And I haven’t even mentioned all the time I spent sitting on an old towel soaking my leg in peroxide and Neosporin. The gauze and the bandages and the band-aids (that make me vurpy anyway) Oh My. Hours I will never get back. I even had to take my “medicine bag” on my honeymoon you bitch!

Hi… She hacked into my leg on June 18th… I got married on September 27th.

But… to conclude… love Dr. T. Hate Dr. Winn.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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