No really... thank you!

     Apparently I work with a bunch of board certified OB/GYNs and I didn't realize it.  They give such great advice... and I get to hear it day in and day out.  Lucky me.  I guess my Ivy League Educated OB was just talking out of her ass when she gave me my November due date because, according to my work-sperts, I am not going to make it past September.  Good thing I asked them!  Oh wait... I didn't?  Well, nothing is more appreciated than advice given by random folks I occasionally see in the hallway.

     Oh... and you are naming experts as well?  I had no idea!  I am also amazed that you find any time at all to impart your obviously superior wisdom upon poor, wandering, and clueless souls such as myself.  Where would we be, other than cavorting around as pelt-clad cretins who beat sticks against each other while desperately trying to make fire and hooting wordlessly at the moon, without your cerebral nuggets to lift us up to civilization and enlightenment?  And you don't like my name choices?  Well then... let me get right on that.

     And for the love of gawd, PLEASE tell me more about your horrific stone age birth experiences!  I want nothing more than to envision your blown out vagina circa 1950.  It helps... it really, REALLY does.  It also explains why 2 of your children are now habitual offenders as the drugs prescribed to you during your pregnancies that you are naming off  aren't even used by backwoods, wanna-be veterinarians anymore.  Truthfully, at least two of them are known to cause cancer....

     No really... thank you random work acquaintances,  for all your unwarranted and unlooked for advice in the elevator, in the bathroom, in the hallways... well... just everywhere I can't get away from you!  I love nothing more than discussing the state of my cervix or pooping the table with folks I have never said more than 5 words to consecutively.