Girls on Film

I got my mammogram today, finally, and lo, it was uneventful, but Jesus, do they have to tighten the vise grip with the hand cranks? Seriously? Does my boob need to be HAND-CRANKED into the machine, after it’s already been flattened into submission while my head dangles like it’s been internally decapitated underneath the white rail?

I will say that my radiologist ruled the house when he sat me down and went over my slides lump by gloriously benign lump — or shall I say milk duct by giant benign milk duct, because apparently that’s what I’ve got going there, some kind of creepy milk duct overgrowth that’s freaking everyone out, including me. I mean, it’s basically the last thing I thought he’d say, honestly. It conjures awful snack jokes and I can’t even think about it without … no no, I won’t, I can’t, just nevermind, because I just made myself sick to my stomach with this whole thing and I’m sorry, I am truly, truly sorry.

Awkward segue! Our front walkway has become some sort of snail breeding ground, which, while appropriately gross, as snails are basically little coagulated piles of mucus with shells, I’m afraid I’m starting to feel as though I should be arrested for mass snailicide, for I shit you not, I crunch no fewer than twenty per evening. It’s horrible, and what’s more horrible is that by the time I return from walking the dog, the carcasses have been mysteriously carted away by some kind of scavenger, and normally I’d say it’s birds, but this is at night! AT NIGHT! Some carnivorous beast is hoovering up snail carcasses under the cover of darkness and it’s gross, it’s oh so gross.

Anyway, I didn’t intend to go on this long about such foul things, when really, I should be talking about how I have to — MUST — start my Christmas shopping, and you know how everyone complains about lame gifts like gift cards and pedicure sets? The shameful truth is that I LIKE lame gifts like pedicure sets, smelly lotions and gift cards, and is that so wrong? I mean, I try not to give them myself, but gift cards make me happy! Gift cards give me a guilt-free excuse to buy that risky shirt at Anthropologie (a store that makes me laugh with its ridiculousness every time I set foot in it, because while it is adorable on other people, I look like I am playing DRESS UP) or a fancy top at Banana Republic. And bath products, oh, how I love bath products, and even high-end stuff can be found at cheap places like TJ Maxx (MOR! Pick up the MOR!)

But really, REALLY, I meant to atone for my totally obnoxious post yesterday by asking for actual, no kidding good book recommendations. To help you get started, I’ll tell you that I loved Curtis Sittenfeld’s “Prep” and if you can believe it, I liked “The Corrections,” although it’s totally the type of book I’m supposed to hate. Oh, and Mark Helprin’s “Winter’s Tale” was wondrous. And Elizabeth Berg! I love Elizabeth Berg! And Salman Rushdie and Alice Hoffman and Gabriel Garcia Marquez!

Hit me, if you like.

*Duran Duran.

37 comments November 27th, 2007