Dispatches from the City of Angels
I'm a writer and humorist living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my novel LOSING CLEMENTINE out March 6 from William Morrow. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
Read/Post Comments (0)
Like me!
Follow me!
Favorite Quotes:
"Taint what a horse looks like, it’s what a horse be." - A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett
"Trying to take it easy after you've finished a manuscript is like trying to take it easy when you have a grease fire on a kitchen stove." - Jan Burke
"Put on your big girl panties, and deal with it." - Mom
"How you do anything is how you do everything."
Want E-Mail Updates?
Click here, type your e-mail address into the first field (for public entries) and receive an e-mail note each time a new blog post goes up. Absolutely, positively no spam. Promise.
Uterus? Check.
Every time I go to the gynecologist, she always asks me the same question. "Do you want to feel your uterus?"
And she's just so damn excited about it.
You know what? No. No, I really don't want to feel my uterus. Thanks. I'm glad it's there, but I'm willing to take your word on it.
But there she goes getting all excited about it, so I feel compelled to "feel my uterus." Except, I have no freaking idea what a uterus is supposed to feel like. She's pressing on my stomach with my fingers, and for all I know, that's my spleen or some dislodged chunk of lung or maybe that burrito I had for lunch. But I go along with it because, for reasons I cannot explain, I want her to be happy.
Well, I guess that's not so strange. She's the one holding the speculum after all.
And she's just so damn excited about it.
You know what? No. No, I really don't want to feel my uterus. Thanks. I'm glad it's there, but I'm willing to take your word on it.
But there she goes getting all excited about it, so I feel compelled to "feel my uterus." Except, I have no freaking idea what a uterus is supposed to feel like. She's pressing on my stomach with my fingers, and for all I know, that's my spleen or some dislodged chunk of lung or maybe that burrito I had for lunch. But I go along with it because, for reasons I cannot explain, I want her to be happy.
Well, I guess that's not so strange. She's the one holding the speculum after all.
Read/Post Comments (0)
Previous Entry :: Next Entry
Back to Top
