Chris, as your wife of…how long have we been married?

Two thousand years.

As your wife of many years, I have something very serious to tell you. You’d better sit down.

I am sitting down.

No, you’re sprawled in a beanbag chair. And last time I checked, that only counts as “sitting down” if it’s 1978 and we’re in the back of a Chevy van smoking doobage with Cheech and Chong.

Fine. I’ll move to the couch.

Okay, ready? I think I have a disease.

Fantastic. What is it this time?

What do you mean “what is it this time?”

Well, last year you thought you had Mad Cow disease because you accidentally licked a shovel at the fairgrounds.

Yes, but…

The year before that, it was Cat Scratch Fever and you wanted to get an X-ray because supposedly, there was a hairball stuck in your throat. Which if you recall was actually just a bad case of post nasal drip.

I never…

And two weeks ago, you claimed you caught Swine Flu after eating a ham sandwich from a gas station. You might remember begging me to email your vital statistics to Anderson Cooper with the message, “Holy crap, Coop, time’s running out.”

You know I was a little feverish that day.

So like I said, what is it this time?

First of all, I don’t like your tone. Second of all, I just self-diagnosed myself on the internet with a debilitating skin condition. It’s very serious. In fact, it may even prevent me from ever doing yoga again.

Uh-huh.

Come on—just look at my leg! See? Right here on my left thigh? See that weird waffle pattern on my skin? It doesn’t exactly look normal, does it? It doesn’t look good. In fact, it looks pretty damn scary. Oh, my God—do you think it’s…it’s… leprosy?! Oh, sweet Jesus, it IS leprosy! I have leprosy! Shit, shit, shit! (long pause) Do I get my own island now?

What?

You’d better rush me to the E.R., okay? Immediately! I mean, right after I watch Entourage.

Oh, dear God. Listen, did this “skin condition” of yours start after you took a shower?

Um, yeah.

And after said shower, did you put on your new spa robe? Your new spa robe that just so happens to have a WAFFLE pattern?

Oh, my…how did you….? Wait—do you think my leprosy is really just the robe imprint?

Well, let’s see… I’ve got to run a few tests, talk to a few experts, but YES, genius, I do. Hallelujah, you’re cured. It’s yet another medical miracle.

Oh, ha, ha! Waffle robe. That’s pretty funny, right?

Not really.

OK, so it’s not that funny. (long pause) But do I still get the island?

__________

(Wanda Sykes update: I know this will shock absolutely no one, but my plan to get Wanda to read my post didn’t work out at all last night. So if you’re going to BlogHer, look for me on stage. I’ll be the one surrounded by paramedics.)