I might be a bit of a food floozy. When my sweet tooth gets a hankering there’s very little I won’t do to satisfy it.
Including sharing a tub of ice cream with a giant.
Don’t worry, there’s a backstory. And here it is.
Right off the bat, I have to say that I recently finished re-reading Bossypants, and I have a feeling that some of Tina Fey’s essays put me in the mindset to write this post.
That, and Groupon.
But let’s start at the beginning.
I was recently strolling in the Upper West Side when I heard a loud, obnoxious female voice behind me. This loud, obnoxious voice proceeded to tell her companions, in graphic detail, about her recent trip to the gynecologist.
Now, ladies, I know we all have our own gynecologist stories. But the most graphic ones probably don’t need to be shared with your friends on Columbus Avenue for anyone else within a 20-foot radius to hear as well.
So instead I’ll share a non-graphic, funny story of my own. (Menfolk, if you don’t like the mere thought of women going in for maintenance of their “lady parts”, then consider this your warning.)