I went to go see a colo-rectal surgeon last week. I didn’t need to. I just wanted to pass the time.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Look, when you are my age, you end up going places you never thought you would. Some people go to Paris, I go to a colo-rectal guy.
ANYWAYS… without going into any more detail about my personal issues… I was sitting in the office…and sitting and sitting and sitting. The doc was running way late.
After a bit, I had to go to the potty. So I went up to the male, twenty-something receptionist and said, “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom.”
He said, “Do you know the number?”
I paused, “Um, I think it’s going to be number 2.”
Other people in the waiting room snickered.
A moment or two passed by.
Then he cleared his throat, “No, I mean, do you want the combination?”
And I said, “Whatever combination it is, is fine with me, son.”
I got called in to see the doc very soon after that.
Maybe one day I’ll get to Paris.