I feel like I’ve been cheating with blogging this week. Yeah, I’ll tell you a story … but I’m gonna crib some movie dialogue or a funny video to pad it all out. You know, so you feel like you’re getting your money’s worth.
Oh, wait. Reading blogs is free. Whatever.
So lemme tell you the real dirt.
My editorial partner in crime, Dorothy, scored her dream job. Like, angels brought it down from heaven and gently deposited it in her lap while Bon Jovi performed “Livin’ on a prayer.”
Yes, it’s that good.
I am sooooo excited for her. But I’ve been in a bit of shock-o-rama. We’re gearing up for the busiest time at Corporate Behemoth, and the game just changed. And, I’m going to miss my friend.
And, I have cramps.
So, there’s that. And I’m still mad as hell about my boob doctor 90-second experience on Monday. And I’m comforted yet completely pissed off that many folks have had similar experiences. Instead of “Livin’ on a prayer,” many of us have had boob doctor encounters with more of a “Highway to hell” soundtrack.
Now, I love AC/DC as much as the next girl. But their music does not symbolize what I’m looking for in medical care. I will admit, though, that Metallica’s “Enter sandman” played as I parked my car at Cancer Pavilion! on Monday, and I felt like a football player going into battle.
Obviously, my brain is everywhere this week.
So, happy weekend to me and to you. I’m going to watch football and do laundry and avoid doctors. What’s on tap for you?