Hey,the subject line beats "Upon Being On Mars", don't it?
You, when were you last in the doc's office. I don't particularly care WHICH doc. GP is always the best, Specialist, well, let's not drift there. But when?
Now I'm going to have to get nasty. You're not with the GP, the Cardio or the Gynie . . . no, you're with some fucker in ER. He's half your age, but if you don't get your shit together, YOU are going to be half your age in a hurry. Uh, amend that -- 0% of your age.
Then come the dreaded words . . . "please disrobe." Huh, you mean this T-shirt? These lousy Dollar store shorts? My underwear? THESE underwear? Are you sure you want to . . .
"Yes, sir, please remove all your clothing."
There is this recurring dream in which I am "disrobed" in public. No, fuck you, don't tell me it's YOUR dream, it's MY dream.
What the hell is my point, here? Just that I got out of the bath, into which I went naked in front of my 7-year-old son, who, being Japanese, does not mind this at all. That my wife wanders around after her shower in flagrante delicto, like I do.
We're all, like COGNIXENT CITIZENS around here.
Last time I saw a dog with a coat on I squashed it.
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