It should be compulsory to regularly test for personality abnormalities; this might help to solve the riddle of the arctic weather conditions that have plagued my nether regions for centuries (or thereabouts).
When I first received the 2 yearly reminder I made a joke at one of my gigs saying, "Nothing says single quite like when you're getting ready for a pap smear appointment… & you catch yourself getting all dressed up." Then we all laughed & laughed & laughed.
But halfway through my date with the doc, which I like to call 'getting back out there', I thought what may've been a much more productive use of our time would've been if she'd stuck the ‘duck’ in my ear & taken a swab of my brain to try & make heads or tales of my romantic shortcomings.
What would the results show? "Ah Jenni, I’m afraid your loser levels are a little higher than I’d like them to be, they’re in the… 'Not-even-a-boob-job-could-help-you-now’ range." Or would they diagnose me with "What-the-f$%k-have-you-got-down-there-a-shredder?-disease." (You can find a list of other people with this rare affliction at eharmony.com & your local leagues club.)
“Plus your self-esteem is embarrassingly low, so low in fact I don’t even think... I like you. Plus a friend of my Uncle’s Cousin’s Nephew’s dog walker, the one who works every 3rd Tuesday, well… their neighbour, with the lazy eye, also thinks you’re weird. So here’s a referral to see a specialist. Not cuz I think they can help… I just think you’re really special. That’ll be $60 please.”
Or will they discover I’m pregnant & to, “Stop eating sushi immediately!” But obviously thanks to my, ‘You’re-really-nice... but’ personality, "it must be due to a 21st century immaculate conception, also known as rohypnol.
Smaga to be continued... #notreally