Yes, I realize that loving me can't be easy.

Here we have (because I'm lazy and haven't written ANYTHING lately), a text message conversation--verbatim, mind you--between my friend Tracy and me. Just so that you know what's going on in my world.

[Tracy was very lately in a play in which she played a character who appears only in Act I and Act V. Thus, this conversation transpired while she was bored backstage, in between Act I and Act V. I was at home sitting on my couch. I don't get out a lot.]

Tracy: "So tired of playing games on my phone."

Me: "Well, we signed our new lease this morning, and in other news, I have a cyst on my butt crack and my whole ass hurts."
Me (again): "And I KNOW you laughed when you read that, damn you. It isn't funny! It hurts!"

Tracy: "OMG. Didn't expect that. That sucks. And I did laugh my ass off! LOL"

Me: "I just know I'm going to have to have asscrack surgery, and it's going to be really embarrassing."
Me (again): "Possibly on the caliber of 'retained tampon' embarrassing." [sidenote: Don't ask. You don't want to know. Also, if you ask, I'm liable to tell you, and then the images will haunt you for the rest of your natural life.]

Tracy: "Is it infected? Can you get to it to put something on it?"
Tracy (again): "I can't believe this is our conversation. lol"

Me: "I think so. I've been making Steven squeeze it to get the puss out and then dump peroxide in it. He loves me."
Me (again): "Hey--YOU said you were bored! lol"

Tracy: "Wow. He sure does. I was going to say peroxide. I wish I had someone to pour peroxide on my butt customer. :("

Me: "I wouldn't make a customer do it. It's pretty personal."

Tracy: "That was supposed to be 'cyst,' not 'customer.'"
Tracy (again): "Yes, I am now entertained."

Me: "I was just going to say, though, yer pretty lucky Steven and I are still together, or YOU'd be over here pouring peroxide on my butt."
Me (again): "Breathe a sigh of relief."

Tracy: "LMAO. You're SO right. Thank you Steven."

[I will stop here, and save you from the rest of the conversation, in which, because Tracy loves me and is a nurse, she asks further questions about the butt cyst and I entertain her by describing it in minute detail--circumference, shape, color, amount and variety of fluid leakage, etc.]

I'm really not sure who is the greater victim here: Me, with my poor ailing butt crack, Tracy, who has to hear me gripe about the details of my poor ailing butt crack, Steven, who has to actively tend to my poor ailing butt crack, or YOU, who are still bravely reading this entire exchange.

Lord, have mercy on us all.