The Infamous Ellen James(13)

I quickly turn around and act like I'm busying myself with one of the cabinets while John asks Mrs. Franks to remove her pants and underwear.

Damn my tendency to laugh at the most outlandish scenarios possible!

I'm practically shaking with quiet laughter at this point, and occasional snorts are escaping my nose while tears stream down my face. The fact that I know that John knows I'm laughing at him is making this situation even more comical.

I speedily attempt to pull myself together and turn around to help him when he sternly asks me to hand him a pack of sterile gloves. No way should I expect a physician to grab his own gloves. That would be absolutely crazy, right? I mean, that's a nurse's job.

Are you sensing my sarcasm? It's mighty heavy right now…

I discreetly wipe the tears from my cheeks before I grab a pair of size eight gloves from the cabinet. After I hand John the gloves, Mrs. Franks gives me a look of concern and asks if everything is all right.

"Of course, Mrs. Franks. I think I managed to get some dust in my eyes," I tell her while still trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to burst out laughing. I assist Mrs. Franks with placing her legs in stirrups while John continues to explain the type of examine he will be administering.

Sure enough, once I place her little chicken legs in stirrups, her "undercarriage" is hanging all the way out. That's right—Mrs. Franks's uterus is actually hanging out of her vagina.

John slowly glances my way and I quickly turn my head before I am faced with his pissed off glare. The quiet laughter threatens to take over again and I have to suddenly excuse myself before I cause an embarrassing scene right there in bed one.

Let's be honest. This entire situation is like a comedy sketch. I'm in a patient room witnessing my ex-fiancé's face all up in eighty-year-old saggy va-jay-jay, which also happens to have a giant uterus attempting to make the great escape.

Oh thank you, karma, you snarky little bitch.





Chapter Ten



“Sometimes you feel like alcohol is the fuel to greatness. Then you wake up the next day and realize you're just one YouTube video away from becoming the next VH1 reality star with a giant clock hanging around your neck, desperately trying to get Flavor Flav to shoot his special sauce on your face.”



Amy and I decide to make it a girls only night and stuff our faces with large amounts of chocolate and red wine. We choose to watch the movie Bridesmaids because Kristen Wiig is a riot and the plane scene is our absolute favorite.

We have a nice selection of Reese's Cups, M&M's, cookie dough, and whipped cream.

The dinner of champions, my friends.

We agreed to just drink one bottle of our favorite Merlot.

We stick to that plan hardcore…for about forty-five minutes until we realize that we're out of alcohol. You'd think a bottle of wine would last longer than forty-five minutes. I head into the kitchen and pull out two more bottles of Merlot from my secret stash, pop the corks, and hand one to Amy before resuming my designated spot on the couch.

"What. The. Fuck? Where did you find these?" Amy is giving me an evil stare.

"Uhhhhh…my secret stash," I state with a laugh before taking a large swig from my bottle.

"I can't believe you've been hiding alcohol from me! I thought we were friends! What else is there? What else are you hiding? Candy? Ice cream? Condoms?"

I nearly spit out my wine when she mentions condoms. Luckily, I manage to contain my laughter and avoid staining our living room carpet red. There is one thing I refuse to do, and that is waste alcohol. I never ever waste alcohol.

"Of course I have a secret stash. Are you blind? If you knew about my secret stash, then you wouldn't have that bottle in your hands right now, because you would have already drunk it," I answer with a serious look on my face.

Shit gets real when we're talking secret alcohol stashes. I'm a grown-ass woman, and if I want to hide my alcohol like I'm on the show Hoarders, that's my own personal right.

Amy looks pensive as she thinks about my last statement. After a good thirty seconds of silence, which is rare in this apartment, she finally gives me a response. "Okay. You win. You're one hundred percent right that I would have already drunk this alcohol if I'd known about your secret stash."

I let out a large sigh of relief at her willingness to wave the white flag. I honestly didn't have the strength to be involved in WineGate 2013 tonight.

"How many Reese's Cups do you think I can eat in fifteen minutes?" I attempt to change the subject and choose one of our all-time favorite topics of discussion.

"You bring this up at least once a month, but you never actually prove yourself. Bring it, James. Show me what ya got!" Amy cheers loudly before running into the kitchen.