Freud Would Be Super Proud

From my dad, who called to chat --
Dad: Hey! I've got great news!
Me: Yeah? What's that?
Dad: I got my penis scoped!
Me: WAY too much information.
Dad: My kidneys are healthy!
Me: That's all you had to say, man.

Do I have to let him know before I just have my therapist send all his bills straight to him?

Speaking of my therapist (I usually am), the second memorable quote of the morning was from him, as I was ranting about the inexplicably assholish behavior of one of my clients --
DeeP: So, how's your ass?
Me: (Glancing at ass) Huh?
DeeP: 'Cuz you're getting FUCKED in it.
Me: Thanks. So very clinical of you.

UPDATE:
In unrelated, but related (She's a PSYCHOLOGIST, for Christ's sake!), but seriously AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH news:

In court papers, McMahan denies that he ever had a sexual affair with his daughter. But he doesn't explain how his and Linda's DNA turned up on a vibrator that Linda's husband uncovered in her luggage.

DeeP Thoughts.

Me: So, I made it all week without drinking.
DeeP: That's amazing! How did it feel?
Me: (scrunching eyes a bit, because, like, it's not like I'm Meg Ryan in When A Man Loves A Woman and, like, hiding vodka in the bottom of the laundry hamper and such. I just like my wine, people.) Good? I guess? I did drink on the weekend.
DeeP: How much did you drink on the weekend?
Me: It was pretty normal.
DeeP: So, you were totally binge drinking?
Me: I guess so, yeah.

***

DeeP: So, what are you going to tell people when you go out with them during the week and you don't drink? Because, people are going to ask.
Me: Well.
DeeP: (Lingering theraputic regard.)
Me: I was just. . . afraid I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF! I'm GOING TO DRINK MYSELF TO DEATH!
DeeP: Huh. I don't think they'll take that so well.
Me: I guess that's not what I would tell them. That's just what I was thinking.
DeeP: Right.
Me: Right.

***

DeeP: You do have to consider your genetics, here. You might be someone who has a need to seek physical thrills.
Me: Uh, yeah, you remember my dad, right?
DeeP: (making ladder-climbing motions with his hands) Right! The guy who climbs poles!
Me: Which is different from smoking pole.
DeeP: (cocking his head quizzically) Is that slang for a blow job?
Me: (starting to giggle uncontrollably) Yes. And I think it's hilarious. SMOKING POLE!
DeeP: (throwing his bald bearded little head back and cackling) HA! HA! You are pretty funny! (He shakes his head a bit.) So, are we done with the distractions for today?
Me: Jerk.



(Just in case you're one of the three people who read this blog who are not people I talk to everyday, I should tell you I have a therapist named DeeP, I hang with him twice a week. I've talked about him here and, in mind-numbing detail, here. There's my attempt to de-nonsesify.)