Psoriatic Android

I love conversations with My Only Fan, although I don’t know if I can call him that now, since I have received actual fan mail, from someone not related to me. [I feel famous. Many thanks.] How about My First Fan? My First Reader? That sounds like a kindergarten textbook. First Non-Related Person to Give a Rat’s What I Wrote Today? That’ll get tiresome. I’ll use his initials, I’m lazy. And since I accidentally (I didn’t do it on purpose, man, but I still wouldn’t be you for Paris Hilton’s ransom right now) gave him my cold, today’s entry shall be in his honor. Check the exchange, yo.

SCENE: Workplace
TIME: Ten in the morning
PROPS: Magazine with cover featuring naked back of a person with erythrodermic psoriasis.

CD: (staring at magazine cover) Hmm.
BEEDOO: Hmm-what?
CD: Do you think this is a man or a woman?
BEEDOO: (examining photo) Um… I actually have no idea.
CD: Me neither.
BEEDOO: Wait—it’s a man.
CD: Are you sure.
BEEDOO: Yes. You can tell.
CD: How?
BEEDOO: The fat distribution.
CD: The… fat distribution.
BEEDOO: Yes. This person has love handles. Women gain weight on their hips, and this person’s is around the middle.
CD: Women don’t all gain weight like that.
BEEDOO: Well, typically. The odds are on this being a man. Also, the shoulders are rounded.
CD: Women can have rounded shoulders.
BEEDOO: Yeah, but this one looks like a man.
CD: A man would be more hairy.
BEEDOO: Well, he’s not hairy on his back.
CD: Isn’t that unusual?
BEEDOO: Mot really. And just because he’s all smooth back-wise doesn’t mean he couldn’t have neck-to-nuts carpeting on his front.
CD: And again… isn’t that unusual?
BEEDOO: Not in my experience.

(awkward silence)

BEEDOO: Oh, hell. I don’t know. Maybe it’s neither.
CD: Maybe it’s an android.
BEEDOO: An android.
CD: Yes.
BEEDOO: With psoriasis.
CD: It’s a Psoriatic Android.
BEEDOO: Which is the name of my new band.
CD: Exactly.
BEEDOO: (picking up magazine and examining it studiously) Wait… it’s a man. Really.
CD: What further evidence have we got?
BEEDOO: He’s furry.
CD: Furry?
BEEDOO: In the man-bits area. He’s got furrage.
CD: (peering at magazine in a slightly less-intent manner) I don’t see it.
BEEDOO: You have to get closer.
CD: No.
BEEDOO: Well, then you have to take my word for it. Male.
CD: Women don’t necessarily shave everywhere either, you know.
BEEDOO: This is different. This has never seen a razor. It has to be a guy.
CD: Why does it have to be?
BEEDOO: Because a woman would have shaved every nook and cranny before getting a picture like this taken.
CD: It’s not like you can see her face!
BEEDOO: Doesn’t matter. And it’s ‘his’ face.
CD: I think I’ll go back to work now.
BEEDOO: What? It’s not offensive, or anything. Look, it’s not this guy’s fault he has hairy crevices—
CD: Leaving now—
BEEDOO: I mean, he has way more things to think about than daily manscaping—
CD: Can’t hear you! Working!
BEEDOO: Sheesh.

Maybe I’ll see if he’ll take a peace offering of DayQuil.

Can you take cold drugs with coffee? I want some tea, but I don’t have any milk to put in it. Do I go without the tea altogether? That’s putting a pretty high value on milk, especially since I’m lactose intolerant. But non-dairy creamer makes tea taste like ass. Man. I should keep some soy up in this fridge. I’ll just give CD my bag of tea, too—I know what he’s in for in the next couple of days, and I don’t want him hating me.


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