I got your abortion and your Hitler, right here!

I am telling mama about a conversation that I had with gay John and she is outraged.

“You are a private person,” she says. “Why must you tell him about your genitals?”

To be fair, I don’t tell John about my genitals (mostly because he asked me not to) I merely mentioned in passing that I had an annual appointment with my gynecologist and he said, “for the D&C?” and I said, “no, a pap smear” and he said “isn’t a D&C the same thing as a pap smear?” and I said, “no, dumbass, a D&C is an abortion” and he said, “are you sure?” and I said, “yes,” and then he seemed sad, so I said, “why? Why do you care? Did your mother used to say ‘I should have had a D&C?” and he said, “no, not at all,” but he still looked pensive, but maybe he was just thinking.

Who knows, but it’s not like I’m having an intimate discussion about my gynecological woes with gay John. Obviously I save this kind of stuff for my blog.
Mama disapproves of it anyway, of course, and it reminds her of everything that is wrong with America today.

“The country has gone crazy,” mama tells me and starts enumerating the complaints she wants to lodge against it. Like why those Armenian whores, the Kardashians, have their own TV show. And why Bruce Jenner, who was a nice boy, an athlete, now looks like a lesbian, and don’t get mama wrong, she is all for metrosexuals, but not to this extreme, there has to be moderation.

Then mama turns into Rush Limbaugh and wants to know why Obama wants to have a mosque near Ground Zero and why he doesn’t just erect a monument to Hitler in its place and call it a day.

And there we are. You know that you’ve had a fantastic conversation with your mother when you’ve covered abortions and Hitler in the span of ten minutes. And it wasn’t even Mother’s Day!

P.S. If you feel gynecologically invested in my story, my appointment is on Monday, so I have to squeeze in all my pre-appointment panic in quickly. What if something’s wrong? What if I have, as John calls it, cervical wretch? I ran this by papa and he said, “well, good news is that you can’t die young.” Which is more less good news and more obnoxious news. In other news, John told me that he’s considering becoming a junior gynecologist and I think I’m supposed to ask my gynecologist if he hosts apprentices.

I predict that conversation will go well.

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