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T O D A Y
Drama Queen candidates Contestant No. 1
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R E C E N T L Y
Things are not quite what they seem Dark night of the iguana Is one enough? Time for One Thing: Anxiety The last campaign - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mamafesto
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - Achtung! Der pap smear!
Ten years ago, I accepted a job and moved to Germany straight out of college to pursue my dream of becoming an international jet-setting businesswoman. After living there about 15 minutes I realized I was working for a slave driver who didn't pay me enough to take the bus, let alone the jet. On top of this my German wasn't quite, shall we say, there. I spent a lot of time nodding in dumb agreement to questions that had sailed right on over my head. An OB-GYN appointment was part of the gantlet to be run in obtaining a temporary German residency permit. I picked a doctor from the phone book and headed in for my appointment. Upon arriving at the doctor's office I was ushered into an examining room with a small, curtained booth, and was told by the nurse to change out of my clothes in the booth. I did as told; however once I got naked I realized there were no gowns to change into. Straining for the proper German vocabulary I warbled out, "Umm, excuse me? There are no gowns here?" The nurse barked back in her grade school English "No, that's good, just so, come here please." So in my earrings and nothing else I half crouched, half walked out into the room and climbed onto the examining chair -- which was positioned in front of two large picture windows overlooking a town square. Yup, as soon as Nurse Hildegard put my knees up onto the knee rests, I was saluting half of Munich with the full beaver. There I sat, waiting for the doctor to arrive. And in he walked, in full military dress, including combat boots. All German men of a certain age have served in the military and have to go on annual training weekends to stay in the reserves, and my doctor was obviously charging straight into the field of battle after seeing me. So there I am, naked and spread-eagled, trying to explain to Gen. Schmidt that the birth control pills I'm on seem to be making me unusually moody, and I'd like to try a different prescription. Herr Doktor replied with a phrase I hadn't heard before and indicated that the exam was complete. I nodded to him with my customary non-committal "Ja," climbed off the chair and back into my clothing, and headed for the door, all the while turning his response over in my head to translate it. I'd almost made it out to the street when I realized he'd said: "Farmers know pigs. I know women. And that's the right pill for you."
Contestant No. 1 | Contestant No. 2 | Contestant No. 3 | Vote now!
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