Applaud, you people!
Oh my God, I am so stunningly great at False Gleetm this week. I have elevated it to a breathtaking art form.
Pretty soon I will be able to charge large rolls of dollars for my expert advice in this arena; stay tuned.
As always, your standard Muffinass Discount will apply.
Earlier I was cheerleading one of our patients via phone. She was being sent out for tests and was nervous.
“Just take a couple shots of rum and sing ‘Victory In Jesus‘ at the top of your lungs. You’ll do great!”
There was a Baptist preacher sitting in the lobby. “Um, I don’t think it works that way.
“Just what religion are you?” The First Church Of The Bobby Jesus’ Magical Train Ride To Heaven. That’s what I wanted to say, but there is indeedy the matter of professionalism. I smiled sweetly at him and blinked slowly.
A little bit later than that, Tess’ daddy came by to see us. He is one of my Very Most Favorite Men On The Planet. He’s a tough old country cuss with a stinging sense of humor; he wears Carhartt overhauls and an Auburn ballcap wherever he goes. He visits us once, twice a week and brings us fresh produce (pineapples! tomatoes! nanners and onions!) when he does.
“That’ll be five-seventy-five, laydehs,” he tells us. Tess says back, “I’ll pay you on Saturday.” Daddy says, “Then you’ll get that mess of produce on SATURDAY.” but he never means it. It’s just a back-and-forth that they do. He always leaves us sacks and sacks of whatever’s in his produce van, the crusty old so-and-so. I bought him a five-pound tray of shrimp for Christmas brunch this year; you’d have thought I gave him the deed to the Taj Mahal. He sat and plowed through three pounds of it. The rest of us combined threw back a pound. I sent the remainder home with him. Tess says he bragged on me for three weeks afterward: “That girl shore can thow a party.”
Today we were cutting up and he said to me, “Now listen here, you little pigtailed shit, you’re cute but I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.” and pinched my right cheek. It made my damn day.
He always admonishes us before he takes leave of us: “Now, beee-HAYVE.”
When we are trading neck hugs goodbye, we also trade ‘I love yous’. Well, he says, “I love ya, meanness” and I say in return, “I love ya, but I don’t like you much atall.”
Funny how you can be all, ‘I’m closer to losing my mind than I ever have been before’ and then the next occurrence will trump that one entirely.
Somebody say something. All of you mouthy bastards have been disconcertingly quiet as of late.
8 worked it out »