Let's see. The main reason that I haven't written an entry in a while is because I gave my husband's best friend (yes, you Zach)has my diary address, and ever since then, there have been a never ending barrage of questions about who, what, where and when. You can imagine, I'm sure. It's like, "I talked to MY BEST FRIEND the other night and he said that I spattered shit all over the walls when I had an O.D. on chicken wings on your 28 birthday. Do you know how he knows this? HE READ IT ON THE WEB." Try accounting for that. Hestitancy is understandable.

But it has been far too long and I am lonely without my diary.

The other day I was assisting in a skin surgery with a patient, and when he got up off the chair, after the surgery was over, to put on the clothing he had taken off in anticipation of staining his Nicole Miller with Betadine. The Doctor and I both noticed, at the same time, a wet spot on the chair. Now, assuming that he didn't reach orgasm while we were cutting a hunk out of his cheek, my first assumption would be that he peed in the chair. The patient seemed totally oblivious to the fact that he had urinated in the chair. So, I got him dressed, sent him on his way and then got down on my knees and prayed to the good Lord that if I ever become incontinent, that he will swiftley strike me down with lightning and end my suffering.