Heather & The Hobo, MD

My friend Mary, from college, emails me often with the continuing saga of Heather, another acquaintance from school, and her monthly/weekly/daily dilemma. Heather is a classic only-child, whiner, man-problem, no common sense, overkill, exaggerate everything, type of gal. Frankly, talking to even a few times a year through email makes me stabby. On the other hand, hearing her stories secondhand from Mary makes me giddy. The latest is the story of Heather seeking treatment for supposed punch to the head inflicted upon her in a metro-Detroit club by a gaggle of angry, jealous club girls.

Above is Mary's Microsoft Paint version of how she later sought treatment by a man she thought was a doctor, but was really a street bum. If you knew this girl, you'd realize that the scenario Mary has concocted is completely plausible. It should also be noted that in college, we used to paint out scenarios for one another of random things that happened to us, class stories, dude stories and sorority tales. I shall ask Mary if she has any of our old ones saved from her email.

You can click on the picture to see more details about Heather's Hobo-Doctor Visit. I especially enjoy the EKG machine.