The dreaded annual "well woman" exam happened this week.
GROAN.
After being directed to the nearest porcelain throne room to provide my annual "sample," the nurse instructed me to await the cup that she'd be passing through the tiny door on her side, which would "magically" appear when I opened the tiny door on my side.
Casually, I flung open the segue to this feminine passage of all things secret. Ok, it's just a holding area for urine samples. But, anyway...
What I found was not your typical medical-grade, clear plastic cup with a lid that fits securely on top.
Sitting behind Door #1 was what looked like a kid-sized, Starbucks-type coffee cup. It seemed a bit odd to me, so I did what any self-respecting coffee lover would do.
I put it back, knocked on the little door, and yelled...
Ok, no, I really didn't. But, I truly hope you are laughing at this point. I sure was. Now, the only thing that stood between me and peeing in a mini coffee to-go cup was my dignity, my pride, and those tiny little square wipes that remind me of KFC. Sans the original recipe chicken, mashed potatoes w/gravy, coleslaw, and buttery flavored biscuits.
Needless to say, the goal was accomplished, but I'll probably never look at a kid-sized Starbucks cup the same way again. I don't typically buy my children hot chocolate drinks anymore, but if I do, I'll be sure to check the side for the word "SAMPLE" prior to consumption.
Until your next cup of non-sample joe,
GROAN.
After being directed to the nearest porcelain throne room to provide my annual "sample," the nurse instructed me to await the cup that she'd be passing through the tiny door on her side, which would "magically" appear when I opened the tiny door on my side.
Casually, I flung open the segue to this feminine passage of all things secret. Ok, it's just a holding area for urine samples. But, anyway...
What I found was not your typical medical-grade, clear plastic cup with a lid that fits securely on top.
Sitting behind Door #1 was what looked like a kid-sized, Starbucks-type coffee cup. It seemed a bit odd to me, so I did what any self-respecting coffee lover would do.
I put it back, knocked on the little door, and yelled...
"I ordered a VENTI!"
Needless to say, the goal was accomplished, but I'll probably never look at a kid-sized Starbucks cup the same way again. I don't typically buy my children hot chocolate drinks anymore, but if I do, I'll be sure to check the side for the word "SAMPLE" prior to consumption.
Until your next cup of non-sample joe,
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