Could he find your six? 

I like a dirty martini. I like it really dirty. I will ask, “May I have a dirty martini, please? Like really dirty. Outhouse dirty...” It has never failed me. I don’t see why this would not work here, “Gin and tonic, please. Weak pour. Like, ‘I got sand kicked in my face at the beach,’ weak...”

Oh, sestra; I know how you feel. Stage 3C Ovarian here. 

Wait. It’s not supposed to be obvious now?

Q: Does Iggy Azalea have medical training?

Now I have to google Maddie and Zoey Deutch...

Oooooooohhhh. No. 

I have a feeling I’m about to see several... 

“Can I borrow your Dianetics books?”

You named her ‘Marwencol’?

Yay!

And with an entire lime.

I pretty much go through life trying to teach my children to live by two mottos, “Can’t hurt to try,” and “Can’t hurt to ask.” What’s the worst that can happen? You ask and someone says, “No.” ok, then. We don’t go to that bar anymore. It’s really not so hard. 

“Gin and tonic, please. And can I just have a half shot of gin? Thanks!”

I had a friend in high school who thought he was a genius. She dragged me to see Zelig and I have not seen a Woody Allen film since. 

Tante E makes seriously good cookies. 

I’m trying to stay off sugar (it’s so haaaaaaaaard) because there’s a school of thought that sugar feeds the cancer cells and I’d rather have the little bastards suffer and starve than give them any sort of fighting chance, but I’d roll the dice and take my shot for chocolate milk and Pepsi. For Penny, you know. 

Fair enough. Come ‘ere... moves fuzzy blankie from favourite aunt aside, pats space next to me, offers up cookies from afore-mentioned aunt to dunk in our milk and Pepsis.

Ooooooooohhhh.