Booked an appointment to see The Crotch Whisperer this week.
Nicknamed so – because he spends most of his time down “there” fumbling and muttering to himself, and seldom actually looks me in the face.
Come to think of it – he reminds me of some guys I’ve dated.
His voice is so soft, I have to strain to hear what he’s saying (how many times can you say “what?” before it’s considered rude?)
I thank my lucky polka dot socks that this is only an annual event. Any more meetings like this, and I’m going to have to get a hearing aid.
