|I was beginning to like my Marilyn Monroe’ish spot. Doesn’t it look deadly?|
I’ve had this pimple on my cheek for about 2 weeks now. It wont go away and I’ve been keeping my eye on it (I know, it’s hard to put my eyeball on my cheek, but with lots of stretching and bending just so, kinda like the porn star sucking on her own titty pose) I’ve managed to keep my (left) eye on it. The right eye is too lazy. And this morning when I woke up the “pimple” looked like a little black mole.
I rushed out to my laptop, plugged my phone on it, went through all the hoops of getting connected (totally forgot I had this imminent urge and need to pee, because confirming I have skin cancer with only 2 days to go is A top priority).
Booby wakes up walks into the “galley” (heh heh, I’m talking geeky boat talk) and balks that I’m already on the computer. “I have to find out how long I have to live” I tell him. “What???” I sigh. Gosh, he’s so inconsiderate. “Well, that zit I’ve had for 2 weeks is now skin cancer and it’s killing me right now as we speak. We’re wasting valuable time here soldier!”
He stares at me blankly.
“Surely you’ve noticed the HUGE zit on my cheek?” Blank stare. “Don’t you look at me? Ever?”.
“Ah come on! We’re ALWAYS together!” I point at it. “Look here!”
“Oh, gross! Why’d you point that thing out to me?” Sigh. “It’s turned black. I’m researching info on skin cancer.” Now I have his attention. He gets up. Turns around. “So… did you make coffee?” Ah yes, he loves me, he loves me so. Actually, what he really said was “Go see a doctor now. Immediately. Don’t fuck around.”
And this is when I found out my ex-boss has a heart of gold. We are still covered on his employee health benefits. Ain’t he sweet? While I was on hold for 17 minutes and 38 seconds to get an appointment with a local dermatologist, I accidently scratched my deathly melanomic depressive skin cancer. It bled. Blood was running down my cheek. It was just a zit that I overtried to pop and there was some dried blood piled up underneath the epidermis (I’m such a geek).
On another note…
We got pulled over by the Coast Guard this morning. Yes, that was exciting!
They asked permission to board our boat and do an inspection. Cool! Come on board guys! They asked if we had arms on board “Other than my incredible charm and dull knives, nope!” They’re snooping around (and just this morning as I was making the bed and cleaning the bathroom I was telling myself you never know who may board your boat and you wouldn’t want them to think you’re a little piggy) making sure we have all the stuff we nearly threw out to make room for our toys (air horns, fire extinguishers, flares, floaters, etc.)
I tried to make small talk with Mr. Good Cop while Mr. Bad Cop was writing stuff. “That jacket looks warm.” I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous. People with authority scare the crap out of me. “They sure load you up with a lot of crap, didja ever fall off a boat? It’s all pretty heavy!” Yakkity, yak. “Yeah, tell me about it, they even make us wear a bullet proof vest under the jacket!” I was so so soooo tempted to ask him if he’s ever had his buddies shoot him, you know just to see if it really was bullet proof. But the Booby was staring me down. He hates it when I talk to people with authority… Wonder why?
They told us we’d earned “Gold Cappy”. I asked if we’d get stickers and stars on a certificate. Those guys were boring. No sense of humor. I want my gold star sticker on the form they gave us!
On a second ‘nother note…
Talking about people with no sense of humor. Am I right or am I right when I say “Congratulations You’ve Got Aids!” or “Congrats, Your Kid has Down Syndrome!” is just not funny. At all. If you have an Etsy account click here to report this stupid bitch. Also, please go to the Rabbit’s blog and sign his petition.
Thanks. Maybe we can make a t-shirt for this Etsy seller “Congratulations, you’re a fuckin’ moron!“
p.s. I have a job interview this Thursday! Yay me!