First Rule of the Irresolute Club: Make A List of Resolutions You Can Actually Keep
Don't Have a Happy Place? Feel Free to Borrow Mine!

The sea cucumber turns to the mollusk and says, "With fronds like these, who needs anemones?"

I have this terrible habit.  Okay, so it's not as awful as picking your nose in public (dude, I totally saw you flick that sucker out your car window...oh...and EWWWWW!)

Although, getting caught with a bat in the cave the size of a velociraptor, well, I would imagine they would be almost impossible to flick, without being noticed.

[scratches nose]

Aaaaanyway.  Oh, yeah, so I have this thing -- a defense mechanism, really -- of cracking jokes during uncomfortable situations.

Like, today, I took my middle girl for her re-check with the pediatric surgeon and long story short (you're welcome) she's still in a lot more pain than what is considered normal-ish.

"It will be fun to see how much you've grown since your last ultrasound!"

What?  The surgeon laughed.  I like him.  The Assistant Medical Professional (no lie, it's how she introduced herself) not so much.

"Lower your pants, lower than that, NO LOWER!"

Lord love a duck, I imagine this is EXACTLY what a person would hear, right before a good delousing.

"Here, let me do it!"

I couldn't take it any longer.  The poor kid.  Thought the woman (sorry, AMP) was a lot friendlier the last time, too (although, my daughter later used another word, describing the AMP's bedside manner, or lack thereof, rhymes with witch) to which I suggested maybe even AMPs have a bad days, too, or something.

"Does this hurt?"

[eyes go wide]

"GAHHHHHHHHH!"

Your choices of an appropriate response, being:

A.  I'm sorry.
B.  I'll take that as a YES!
C.  Okay, good to know, we won't do THAT again.

Aaaaand, if you picked any of the above, you would be wrong.

"Oh, I don't think it hurts THAT much, maybe the latex glove..."

I don't remember the rest of what she said, because I stopped listening to the (rhymes with witch) and I was really too busy trying to pull my middle girl from off of the ceiling.

"I'll get the Doctor."

Good answer!  So, next step is scheduling an ultrasound (fun, right?) to find out whatever the heck is causing all the ruckus up in my middle girl's backside, for the lack of a better word.

"What diagnosis code should I be using?"

See?  Even the AMPs were having trouble deciding.

"Coccyx injury...sacrococcygeal tumor...sacroiliac dysfunction..."

OMG, never mind, whatever you call it, sounds awful, right?  Aaaaand, this is about the time my middle girl's EYES WENT REAL WIDE!

"How about, pain in the butt?"

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Nothing.  Nada.  Not even a frown.  I sort of shrugged at the billing person and was all, like, whatev.

"Ah, wait a minute, she's right, pain in the buttocks, it's right here...code...."

I don't remember the rest of what the billing person said, because I stopped listening and was too busy making faces at the AMP -- behind her back, of course.

"Thank you, thank you very much, I'll be back in 2 weeks, be sure to try the veal!"

What?  The billing clerk laughed.  I like her, too.

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