In Which it is Yet Again Proven that I Am a Sick Woman

Boredom at work tonight led to chatter; not about office gossip or sports or the weather, not about food orders or politics but, of all things, parasitic twins. A google search was implemented and while I felt stirrings to join the group as they gasped in horror, I remained seated and didn't check out any images until 4 a.m. while supposedly finishing up an Off-Broadway play review.

It's incredible just how much can go wrong in the human body; the shuffling dance of genes knowing no limit to the combinations, to the mutations - sometimes, as in the evolution of camouflage, enabling a species to survive or, on the opposite end of the scale, proving lethal.

Well, here's what my gene shuffling did for me - it made me a sick, twisted bitch because the first thought that popped into my mind when I saw this picture was not "did she survive and how?" or "poor thing!" but

...it's my [birthday] and I'll cry if I want to. You would cry, too, if it happened to you.

Sicko - get back to work....