Hypocritic oath

WARNING: parts of this post may contain way more personal information than you ever cared to know about me. it is not for the faint of heart, or those who are fond of using the phrase "we are on a need-to-know basis". viewer discretion is advised.

Yesterday I not only licked my book-related procrastination, but also did all those other things I've been putting off for months (applying for "real" jobs), weeks (applying for temp jobs), days (taking my laundry out of the dryer), and years (setting up an appointment with my doctor to get a physical).

Just got back from a temp job interview. I start next week, or something. Frankly, I don't even care what they assign me to. I just want to make a little bit of money on the side while I pursue my dream of beign a starving artist. . . uh, translator/technical writer/outreach worker/liberal arts student emeritus.

Don't say I didn't warn you. . .

And this afternoon I shall rendezvous with my family doctor who will, as she always does:

1. Ask me if I am pregnant several times
2. Feign shock and surprise when I tell her that I am very definitely sure that I am not pregnant
3. Squint her eyes to decipher if I'm telling the truth about not being sexually active
4. Ask me if I'm absolutely sure I'm not a hoodrat
5. Launch into a 20 questions session about why I'm not a skank
   
6. Feign shock and surprise when I cooly, and calmy explain my decision to abstain
7. Launch into another 20 questions session
   
8. Become truly shocked and surprised when I tell her bluntly that I have no reason to lie to her about it and could we please get on with this
9. Totally ignore me when I say that I have a mysterious, chronic, painful infection of the belly button (so gross, I know), and an ever-increasingly inflamed left knee due to that ligament I tore so many moons ago (not so gross, but very painful)
   
10. Pronounce me perfectly healthy (except, of course, for that whole not-being-ho-bag thing)
11. Write me a perscription for rheumatoid arthritis
12. Give me that one-eyebrow-up, squinty-eyed look of disapproval when I point out that I don't have arthristis
13. Shoo me out of her office

~g. mango: see, that wasn't so bad