They say beauty is only skin deep. But thank God for that quarter-inch of skin. Because right beneath it lies a packed, jumbled mass of mess a starving vulture wouldn’t eat cold.
You can just imagine God, having finished the basic design of humans, saying, “Yikes! Okay, if we expect humans to reproduce, we’ve gotta put some kind of wrapping around this sack. Either that, or let’s remove the eyeballs.”
On Friday my wife Cat got an M.R.I. You know how after you ride Splash Mountain at Disneyland you can purchase a photo of yourself having all that fun? Well, for five dollars Cat got to purchase a photo of herself riding the scary Magnetic Resonance Imaging ride at Doctorland. Only instead of a picture showing her screaming in fear, we got a picture of her midsection that made us scream in fear.
“Wow,” said Cat. “So smiling for these pictures doesn’t help at all.”
Could she be funnier?
Hey, to catch you up on my wife’s health. As has been true for six weeks now, either Cat has nothing at all wrong with her, or she’ll be dead by Labor Day. I’m no health care expert, but I know we have to fix how long it takes patients to receive a diagnosis and begin treatment. This waiting two weeks between Vital Tests is cruelly insane. No one should have to go through this. It’s awful.
Right now, to me, M.R.I. stands for More Resounding Indecision.
Well, it did. Now it stand for Must Remain Inside.
Ah, laughter. Thank God it’s not really a medicine, or you’d have to wait a month for your [bad word] insurance company to okay it.