A few blog posts ago I let my readers decide for the doctor whether or not the thing on my face is cancer. I am pleased to share with you the results of the poll. While only one asshat voted for it to actually be cancer (and I’m pretty sure that voter was my brother who still hasn’t gotten over the fact that I lost one of his Matchbox cars in 1976), it was just a little weird that a large number of voters actually wanted this red, irregularly shaped splotch to be Mitt Romney. I was uber-pleased by the number of commenters who said, “I voted for it to be Mitt Romney because that will be the only time I ever vote for that man.” Basically, I’m taking one for the team and agreeing to have Mitt Romney growing out of control on my face so you can be responsible and save America. It’s an even trade.
But now the clock is actually ticking and I’m supposed to go see the doctor in a few days to decide if it’s cancer or Mitt Romney, and if those are my only two choices I’m going to have to mull it over and get back to you. I can’t really bring myself to say, “Oh sure, doc, let’s call this thing cancer!” but I also can’t commit to being stuck with Mitt Romney even for four years, let alone for the rest of my life. (note: I could be willing to agree to it being Mitt Romney if I get to hear the doctor say, “I know how to fix this. We’re going to freeze Mitt, burn Mitt with these hot zappy little electrodes, pour chemicals on Mitt, then finally scrape him off with this putty knife. There won’t be anything left of Mitt Romney when we’re through with him!”) (different note: I think I’m going to be put on some watch list now for saying that I want a presidential candidate frozen, zapped, poisoned, and scraped.)
While I’ve been walking around with this cancerous Mitt Romney stuck to my face, my husband has been amazingly supportive, saying things like, “Oh, it’s hardly noticeable. I wouldn’t even bother with the doctor if I were you. Have you tried some Neosporin?” Because you know they make Neosporin in chemotherapy-strength now.
But last night when we discussed the potential for cancer, he said the most romantic-yet-stupid-assed thing I’ve ever heard: “If you lose your nose to cancer, I won’t leave you.”
Um. Yeah. I wasn’t really thinking about the possibility of a) losing my entire nose or b) my marriage crumbling and my children being fatherless because of a Mitt Romney growing on my face. But it’s good to know that he won’t abandon our entire family if I become deformedly ugly. Thanks a pantsload, Mitt Romney.
12 thoughts on “True Love is a Real Bitch That Way”
Ok, first I can’t believe I was the first person who wasn’t too lazy to go ahead and click the little like button. (I mean, come ONNNNN how hard is it?) I’m also glad that it wasn’t Mitt Romney on your face, because soon there would be the hair, and then maybe your husband would have an uncontrollable urge to strap you on the roof of the car when your went on vacation. You are maybe even funnier than I am (and I think I’m kinda pretty funny.) You were recommended by Susan Wingate, who is pretty funny too.
Thanks, I needed that.
Thank you! And I’ve never even thought about the dangers of having my brain on pandas. What’s the street value of panda? Is it a good high, or do you feel really yucky afterward? Cuz I’m all for anything that’s all natural and that I won’t have to turn tricks for.
Panda-philia does not come cheap. You’re looking at about a mil a year, street price. And once you start, it’s a tough habit to kick. You know you’re in trouble if you spend more time watching panda videos on youtube than looking for the best internet airplane ticket deals. Or, you could just read all the cartoons on the Panda Chronicles for a nice mellow high. You might not HAVE to turn tricks for this high, but you’ll probably want to.
I’m sorry, I’m LMAO! But I hope it’s all good. Neither Mitch Romney or cancer.
Yeah, it’s still a toss up as to which one I’d rather be stuck with!
Don’t you mean, “Thanks a magic underpants load?”
Men do try. They rarely get it right, but they do try.
AWW! Many guys have trouble saying sweetly sentimental things like ” I will love you forever regardless” so we are stuck with things like ” I won’t leave you if your nose gets scraped off your face”. Cheer up. In their world it means the same thing! Still voting for Mitt.
You do realize Klout is going to label you as an expert on Mitt Romney…..
O. M. G. I hadn’t thought of that. Wait, this could be a good thing. If I’m an expert, then people will listen and believe when I talk about how his third child is actually the antiChrist, how he has an S&M dungeon in his basement, and how he shot JFK.
LMAO…Glad to know your hubby is sticking around!!!
Me too! I’m really gonna need him if I don’t have a nose. Who’s gonna smell if the house is on fire???