Friday"How was your morning?" Gloria asked as I walked through the door.
"Let's see," I said. "I fasted for twelve hours, got a finger up my ass, and had three tubes of blood drawn by a nurse who I'm pretty sure used a hand axe. So pretty much a normal day."
"Sorry about the finger thing," she said. "I know I hate my gynecological exams. It's just incredibly awkward to have your feet in stirrups and a doctor sort of peering at you."
"Well, let me help with that," I said. "You could always say something as an ice-breaker, like 'Did you know my vagina can do impersonations!' Say it in a peppy way, though."
She ignored me. That's usually the smart play.
"It's got to be really awkward for the doctor, with the whole finger thing," she said.
"Awkward for him?" I asked. "Listen, the finger is way below the ass on the awkward list. When he pulls out his finger, he takes off his glove and it's business as usual. Meanwhile, my ass feels like a hundred acres of clear-cut forest."
"Besides," I said,"after he pulls out his finger, it's not going to feel like it's still up my ass. I, however, have legacy finger issues for hours."
Friday morning, in other words, will not be pressed into my precious book of memories.