Dont Mince Words

I remember in grad school, back in 1991, when we were predicting internet penetration rates. We didn’t think the internet would catch on because, at the time, there were still a large percentage of U.S. households without telephones. Soon, analog broadcasts will be discontinued and replaced with HD… approximately one-fifth of this nation still does not have cable and relies on rabbit ears for TV programming.

Now I’m a statistic. I don’t own a TV. I sold it a month ago because I wasn’t going to move the 150-pound monster one more time. I knew the standard was changing and it would be obsolete. Rather than making a new technology decision I opted to go old school and do without.

And I’m doing just fine.

I read more. I write more. I listen to my podcasts and music much more frequently. I get a kick when people come over and look around and then ask, “Where’s your TV?” Last night I said, “I don’t need one, I write.”

I’m sure I’ll cave eventually and buy a TV, but until then I’m going to see how long my personal social experiment can last.

Keith Olbermann, I miss you, but you are in my dreams… a lot.

My hair salon left a voice mail asking if I needed a blow dry with my gray root dye job tomorrow morning.

“Hi, this is Marna calling back about my appointment tomorrow. I just need a dye job without the blow job.”

Laughter.

“Oh wait, I do, in fact, desperately need a blow job, but my hair does not need to be blown dry tomorrow.”

It’s 9:30 a.m. and I’m already thinking about sex. Thank god it’s Friday.

I love going to the doctor. Last week it was the dentist. I like the small talk he makes while he scrapes and tells me what great teeth I have. Today it was the GYN.

The new patient forms are always a killer. I decided to give creative answers to see if they actually read.

Spouse’s name: Asshole.
Mother’s state of health: old and mean.
Have you ever had painful or unsatisfactory sex? You are kidding, right? There’s not enough room to describe all the bad sex I’ve had.

But the best question, and you know it’s coming, is when a new gyno looks you in the eye and asks “are you sexually active?” My standard response is always “not as much as I’d like to be.”

She laughed and then put her gloves on while she blew the cobwebs out.