Welcome to Life in Boobburgh
By Kathy Reschini Sweeney
I'm back and blogging. This time it's just me, and since I'm not blogging with any responsible authors trying to sell you books or anything, I really don't have to worry about offending people. Comments are always welcome even if it takes me a while to respond. Don't be shy - chances are you and I are the only ones reading it anyway!
I am hoping some of my friends will guest blog, even the serious author ones. We shall see. I don't know how often there will be a new blog. Like all of you, I'm busy. I just love to write.
Life in Boobburgh got its name because that's where I am right now. I like to blog about TV (the Boob Tube), morons (aka Boobs) and I just joined the ranks of the Pink Warriors (by necessity, we are fixated on breasts, not unlike most teenage boys, but for less entertaining reasons). I also like to blog about music and I love books. Was going to try the name "Lullaby of Boobway" or "To Kill a Boobing Bird" but figured anyone who would actually get those were savvy enough to understand you can't always get everything you want.
If this is your first time reading my words, here is the basic scoop: I actually live in Pittsburgh, PA (hence Boobburgh rather than Boobville, Boobland or Boobington, DC). It is the greatest city in the world and if you think otherwise, you might be a jagoff. I am a Mom, a Daughter, a Sister, a Friend, a Lawyer, a Professor, a Godchild, a Cugina, a Wife, a Golden Girl and a Smartass, and not necessarily in that order.
I am a woman of faith, but know I don't have an exclusive on the only path to God. I'm just grateful I have something to believe in - I happen to call forces of nature or coincidences actions of the Holy Spirit but could care less what you believe as long as it's not some assholish kind of thing where some people are destined for hell just because of their eye color or other irrelevant dreck.
I think families are made up of more than one man, one woman and the human biological offspring thereof. I don't care what the fuck you do in the privacy of your own bed room as long as everyone consents and no one gets hurt. I guess I need to clarify that "consent" by definition means all participants are capable of consent - in other words, kids and animals are out.
Sometimes I talk about politics, but mostly it's because some blowhard asshat says or does something stupid, regardless of party affiliation. I'm kind of a Libertarian (except for that Pacifist business - my people are war-mongers from way back) and I actually believe the Golden Rule has merit.
I don't like shows or movies or books that involve prison, kids in jeopardy or gross stuff like removal of parts of the head or face with a kitchen utensil. I like funny things and I think comedians are usually the smartest people in the room, which is why I get my news from Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I still miss Calvin & Hobbes, especially the ones with the snowmen.
I come from a big Italian/Irish family. We are loud people. We celebrate everything. We know people. We know things. Don't ask. Plausible deniability is a hallmark of our survival.
So - I have been sitting on some classic (and real) lines from my recent adventures in medicine. Here is one just so you get the idea of whether or not this blog is going to be in your strike zone.
As background, I was recently diagnosed with very early (Stage Zero) breast cancer called DCIS. Having surgery February 7th and the surgeon (we love her) feels confident she can get it all in an out-patient procedure. This is really, really great news. Hallelujah and so forth. Naturally, I view the entire thing as a challenge to crack wise. As follows.
1. I had a needle biopsy. Very high tech - kidding. Big fancy Women's Hospital with all this expensive equipment and this thing is actually just a table with a hole in it for your breast to hang down. I had to use a step stool to get up there. It's kind of like a massage table, if they built it at the same time as Stonehenge. I think it was a layer of bricks covered in a thin sheet of plastic. You clamber up there, shove one boob in the hole and smush the other one into the bricks and then you are supposed to stay still while they treat your boob like fresh bread dough.
Then some baby doc who doesn't need to shave yet (Magee is a teaching hospital) comes in and starts messing with the dangling boob. I have no clue what the hell this kid was supposed to be doing, but after about five solid minutes with no explanation, I said: "Hey, I haven't been manhandled like this since high school, and at least there was Riunite involved!"
One of the nurses started to choke, and I heard another nurse head for the door and announce into the hallway: "I got a new one!" The baby doc froze for a minute and then told me he was trying to figure out where to insert the needle. Oh honey. If I had a dollar for every time..... I let that one go because sometimes you need to just pass on the easy ones.
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Man, it feels good to blog again! I'll be back.
In the meantime, what's new in your boob of the woods?