I cannot take credit for this story, but just had to share:
My friend Mya had just broken up with her boyfriend, when I say, just broke up, I mean they broke up that very day. But technically she had been thinking about it for a month or two before she did it, and so technically it was fine to bring home a doctor that evening so that she could play the patient-- you know what I’m talking about.
But if you’ve been with the same guy for three years and the only boy you have seen naked other than him in your adult history is your high school boyfriend, you will probably freak out and do something drastic. This is exactly what Mya did.
In a complete panic the next day she told Dr. NotSoFeelGood that she would bring him leftovers for dinner. Let it be known that a symptom of incredible guilt is often word-vomit. However, Mya did not have any leftovers, and certainly not any leftovers from the massive family style Sunday dinner she had completely fabricated.
So what did our little chef do? Did she tell the truth? Did she avoid the good Doctor?
No, she employed all of her friends to cook a full Sunday dinner, then mash it up and put it in containers so it looked like leftovers.
