"Let Me Tell You About My Butt"

(Warning: Contents of this post may be unsuitable for some readers.)

I used to wonder if people thought I was a good listener. It's a talent that most of us take for granted until we ourselves are in need of someone with that particular skill. Years ago, I decided that I wanted to be the type of person that others felt comfortable talking to about....well....anything. And this, ladies and gentleman, is just one of the many terrible decisions I've made that will be addressed on this blog. Let me explain.

Now, don't get me wrong, people. I still enjoy listening to my friends discuss the endless array of nonsense that they have to deal with in their daily lives. Lord knows it's only fair considering how much I vent to them about the varying degrees of crazy I encounter every day (each of which will probably get their own posts eventually). Unfortunately, some of my closest friends are the ones who expose me to a whole different kind of crazy. Case in point, Lisa's mom.

I'm not sure what the circumstances were that led to me being cornered in Lisa's sister's (we'll call her "K") home.  I want to say that I was there taking maternity photos...while K was in labor.
---SIDE NOTE: Ladies, don't procrastinate when it comes to stuff like this. Having to wait in between contractions to take photos isn't fun for anyone involved. Especially outside in February.---

Whatever the reason for my being there, I was obviously unaware of the danger lurking nearby. After being abandoned in what I now realize was a sacrificial offering by K, her mom made her way to the living room. This wasn't my first encounter with the destroyer of tastebuds (Dot), but it was one of my first one-on-one experiences. One would expect normal conversation to ensue. "How have you been? Are you enjoying work? How's the family? Blah, blah, blah....." No amount of social ettiquette training could prepare you for the conversation that happened next.

"So, have I told you about my colonoscopy?"

The answer is always "Yes." Whether it's true or not, say "Yes!" Trust me. God will forgive you for this particular lie.

Unfortunately, I am a moron. I should have said, "Why, yes! Yes, you did! It was really interesting. What do you think of the weather we've been having?" But instead I said, "Umm...no....no, you haven't. And I would prefer to keep it that way." Alright, fine...I didn't say that last part. Oh, how I wish I had.

It's at this point you may be saying to yourself, "Sure, it's a weird subject to take up with someone you barely know, but how long could it possibly take?".......47 minutes. That's right. 47 minutes. Go watch an episode of The Walking Dead on Netflix. I'll wait. ...... That's still not as long as I spent listening about the inner workings of Dot's anus. I'm not certain, but that could be longer than it takes to actually get a colonoscopy.

I should have been nominated for an Oscar for the performance I gave portraying the character, "Person Who Seems Interested in Hearing About a Tube up Your Butt." While discussing polyps and hemorroids, I was all...

But in my mind....

I won't go into details, mainly because I've tried to block them out. But when Dot finished her story, I wished her luck on her next colonoscopy (which I'm sure I'll hear about) and then I went home to try to erase the horrible visual images that had been etched into my brain. While this may not have the same life-long effects as giving a 6 week old Gatorade instead of formula, it was still pretty scarring. But it was over....or so I thought.

Two years ago, I started dating a wonderful guy named...well, until he gives me permission to embarrass him publicly (more than I already do), we'll call him "Jennings." Jennings happens to have one of the most adorable grandmothers in the history of grandmothers. I'm going to call her Abi for "Aunt Bee Incarnate". Seriously, folks...she's precious. All the traits that you expect in a good, southern grandma with just enough snark to make it interesting.

Well, being the holiday season, I emailed Abi to inquire as to what she and her Paul Newman look-a-like hubby would like for Christmas. I also asked if she could send me the lists for any other people that she happened to have gathered. This is what I received:

I immediately sent a message to Jennings and said, "Have you heard about your grandmother's colonoscopy? Because I have."

"Ummm.....what?" he replied.

"Yeah...I know the location of Abi's hemorrhoids. What is it about me that screams, 'I'm completely comfortable hearing about your butt probe'?"

He now owes me an awkward family encounter. So at least I've got that going for me.

At this point, some of you may be thinking that I'm heartless. Not the case. I'm soulless, but that's not the same thing. And it's not that I don't want to hear the good results of your tests. I think it is great to find out someone DOESN'T have cancer. I just could do without some of the intimate details. I'm a visual person. When someone starts mapping out plot points for polyps and hemorrhoids, I start forming a mental picture. The mental image I form may or may not be worse than how the situation is in reality. I don't want to find out. But do you really want me picturing what your rectum looks like? REALLY?

When I said I wanted people to be comfortable discussing things with me, this is not at all what I intended. However, if you want me to go from picturing Francis Bavier every time I see you to this...

....then by all means, please tell me about your colonoscopy.