BOOB Report

Although I am walking around with a mysterious lump in my BOOB that has resulted in unplanned (and irritatin') doctor's visits, no one over here at Blither Blather headquarters really seems to be all that concerned (i.e. interested) in my BOOB issues-except Mr B-who is trying to prescribe for me some ridiculous sex'shal therapies that got nuthin' to do with nuthin'.  So feeling beleaguered by all the oblivious penises at my house, I rally the gal pals into prayer circles but tell them to hold off on casserole deliveries seeing as how I'm not quite dead... yet.  Anyhoo, Mr B is with me at the doc's office, and I am on the table with the gown open in front, bracing myself for whatever the universe is throwing my way, when my phone rings.  Big kid is on the other line and wants to know when I will be done.  "What's taking so long?" he queries before asking me if I can pick up his friend on the way home because they have some video gaming to do.    Clearly, I need to get my priorities in order.  Sigh... 

Once home, I over hear Mr B on the phone in the kitchen.  "Yes, I'm calling about my wife's vagina-gram.  Sure...yes, she can answer some questions for you..."  And I am incredulous that any one man on the planet can be SO PREPOSTEROUSLY STUPID AND F'N IRRITATIN'!  I want to punch him in the head as he hands me the phone and chases me through the living room to discuss my "vagina gram"  with an imaginary caller...  sheesh!

Later I find lil brother curled up in my bed watching cartoons, and I'm thinking I've finally found a concerned citizen who might wanna have a BOOB convo with me.  "Hey, lil brother!   Can I tell you about the BOOB procedure where the doctor is gonna stick a giant needle all the way through my BOOB?"  I earnestly ask, hoping that bizarre medical stuff will appeal to his macabre 9 year old sensibilities.  "Nah..."  he shrugs, eyes glued to TV.  So I resort to my final tactic: pinning him down and furiously tickling him like it's Judgement Day.  "SAY YOU CARE ABOUT MY BOOB OR I WON'T STOP!"  And he is a shreiking, sweating, red faced, desperate, bucking bronco of a wild man.  But I show no mercy until he jackknifes and shrieks, " I CARE ABOUT YOUR BOOB!"  At which point I hop off the bed and look back over my shoulder as I hustle on out the door, "Good.  Now that I know you care, I'm gonna post what you said on Facebook."

And I am certainly feeling the love now...