Let's talk about silly, unimportant things today shall we? Like my new obsession with the phrase "bitch tits," which Chelsea Handler calls her dad. Bitch tits are just a more satisfying label for man boobs. Bitch tits is so much more fun. Guys can get BC too in their bitch tits. Weird, huh? It's not that uncommon either.

My colleague at Heeb magazine introduced me to the new, hipster phrase "slam pig." I don't find that one quite as satisfying as my other favorite, "hot mess." Sorry B.A. You'll have to come up with a new one to impress me.

I am *so* beyond excited that this is my LAST WEEKEND with the tennis balls!!!!!!! I get real-fake boobies Tuesday! They changed my surgery time to 7:30 a.m., so now it's less than 90 hours away. (I think. I suck at rudimentary math. I'm a creative type you know.)

Nora, Plastic Surgeon's secretary called me yesterday as I was leaving lymph therapy.

"We've moved up your surgery time from 2 p.m. to 7:30 a.m."

"Yay, I don't have to go so long without drinking or eating."

"Yes, so be there at 7:30."

"So when is Doc getting back in town?"

"Not till Monday, why?"

"Oh damn, I wanted to sneak in some Botox. But I suppose I can wait."

She laughs. Why do these people think Botox and Breast Cancer don't go well together? I mean, you may as well kill two birds. He did it one time while my tennis balls were being inflated.

"I'll bet this is a first for you Doc, Botox and inflation at the same time."

He rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "Are you kidding me? This is South Florida."

Oh how I love the So Fla Jews and their stretched, plastic faces.

I left the lymph bandages on for 12 hours. After going to the gym and sweating in them, they itched like a motherfucker. So I rationalized that 12 hours at a time should suffice. And it was incredible; after I removed them, my left hand was 95% normal looking! And it still looks good today. Finally, good medical news!