You all know I spend four hours each night farming news from the health-care field. Last night’s headline of the evening came from Bloomberg:
‘Designer Vagina’ Surgery Is a $5,500 Danger, Gynecologists Say
If you ask me, “designer vagina” is almost as much fun to say as “ample bottom.” You want to hear it in a song lyric:
Design-a vagina, nothin’ is fine-a / So let’s pour another glass of wine-a…
OK. Sorry for the late post, Danny. You’re not the boss of me, Danny. Actually, I’m not goofing off or anything like it, Danny. I’m working. But since you insist…
My schedule got all discombobulated this morning; I had my eyes checked for a new pair of glasses. It was an interesting experience; the optician took my old ones and led me into the exam room before disappearing with them. A blur entered and introduced herself as the doctor. She asked me to read what I could from the chart.
“And where, exactly, is the chart?” I asked. This is what we call a baseline reading. I was finally able to make out the single-letter line: “That’s an O, unless it’s a C.” It’s official — I’ve turned into Burgess Meredith in the Twilight Zone. Next step is a white cane and a golden retriever, no doubt.
I came home and had to put my nose directly to the grindstone, and am just now coming up for air. Just in time for the end of summer. My brain is already on vacation, as you can plainly see. Since we’ve been trifling all week, let’s keep up the theme, eh?
Today in anorexia: Really, Keira, you look great in that dress. And what man wouldn’t prefer the rag-and-bone Renee Zellweger over the plumper one in the red dress? That picture is horrifying — you can see veins in her shins. Scroll down from Keira’s lollipop figure to Joely Richardson, who appears to have recently returned from a long stay in a country with no food. You could chip your tooth if you tried to kiss her shoulder, but who would?
Meanwhile, I got a note from a fellow fan of “Mad Men” who says the redheaded secretary played by Christina Hendricks is his new dream girl. That picture’s just a headshot, but trust me — she’s got it goin’ on, upstairs and downstairs. Her clothes don’t “hang” well, because in the ’50s they weren’t made to hang; they were made to cling. Clothing designers then acknowledged women have waists and hips and what’s more — crazy to think of — men might appreciate seeing them once in a while.
I was three years old during the era this show depicts. Once again, I miss the boat. Story of my life.
No wonder women feel they need a designer vagina these days. Once upon a time, tits ‘n’ ass would do. Have a great weekend. I’ll be traveling down Columbus way. Marcia, drop me a line if you’re not working. The rest of you, back whenever.