So the phone rings at the theatre, guy wanting to order tickets.
How many, I inquire.
All of 'em, he says.
I'm sorry?
All of 'em. Unless you've got, like, 400.
I'm sorry?
Well, I've got a big house.
Um....it is difficult for me to determine the best available seats for your party if I don't have a general idea of how many people might be in your party.
Shit, you're gonna make me count....one...two...three...
....um, ten?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
My Doctor Redeems Himself
Several months ago I went to the doctor. He wanted to take some blood, run some tests, and since it was best that I not eat before the tests my appointment was for 7:30 in the morning. I went, he tested, and when he was done he made a suggestion.
"Since you're here, we may as well take a look at your prostate."
Which is how I came to find myself, at about 7:45 in the morning, bent over, pants around my knees, regretting my choice of underwear for the day. (What seems whimsically amusing when you think no one will see...)
This morning I was back at the doctor's office. My blood pressure was down -- not to where it should be, but down. The doctor went into his litany of denial: watch the salt, don't drink too much, avoid fast food, restaurants, especially Chinese restaurants.... "Doctor," I said, "you've pretty much taken away every single thing I eat."
"Well, wait," he says, "it's not all bad news. You can smoke marijuana. Don't smoke tobacco but I have no problem with responsibly using marijuana. And you can have sex, all the sex you want, with whoever you want -- just wear protection if you don't know them."
How can you not like a doctor who tells you to get high and get laid?
I wanted to ask for a prescription, though. Take that into the Walgreen's: "I'd like to get this filled -- generic is fine, thanks."
And how handy would that be in a bar? "You're cute. I need you to fill this prescription for me. Your place or mine?"?
"Since you're here, we may as well take a look at your prostate."
Which is how I came to find myself, at about 7:45 in the morning, bent over, pants around my knees, regretting my choice of underwear for the day. (What seems whimsically amusing when you think no one will see...)
This morning I was back at the doctor's office. My blood pressure was down -- not to where it should be, but down. The doctor went into his litany of denial: watch the salt, don't drink too much, avoid fast food, restaurants, especially Chinese restaurants.... "Doctor," I said, "you've pretty much taken away every single thing I eat."
"Well, wait," he says, "it's not all bad news. You can smoke marijuana. Don't smoke tobacco but I have no problem with responsibly using marijuana. And you can have sex, all the sex you want, with whoever you want -- just wear protection if you don't know them."
How can you not like a doctor who tells you to get high and get laid?
I wanted to ask for a prescription, though. Take that into the Walgreen's: "I'd like to get this filled -- generic is fine, thanks."
And how handy would that be in a bar? "You're cute. I need you to fill this prescription for me. Your place or mine?"?
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