Banjo Man waved an official-looking letter in front of me last week.
“Look,” he said. “They want to know if you had your implants out!”
Note: Banjo Man is encouraged to open any official-looking mail addressed to me, because it’s always junk mail. Once I won $10 in the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, but that was long ago and there hasn’t been anything interesting since.
The letter was addressed to me. It detailed a class action lawsuit. It had the serial numbers of my breast implants printed under my name and address.
Note: I’ve never had breast implants!!!!
(But I suppose you all could tell, huh?)
Banjo Man the Husband wanted to know where the implants were, because he thought he’d missed out on something.
Banjo Man the Financial Advisor wanted to know how much they cost.
Meanwhile the letter went on to say that proof was needed to verify my “ex-plants”, which is a medical term for removing the implants? Huh?
No implants. No explants. I do not lead a medically exciting life.
Banjo Man offered to save the letter for the blog, but then he forgot and threw it out. It’s gone, like the missing boobs I never had.