Well, My Uterus…

I went to see a movie but found a new shorthand reference for "inappropriately intimate conversation loudly taking place in public."

It all started on the way to the theater. A friend of mine invited me to see the movie 300. We parked in the parking structure, which I was sure was on the wrong side of the mall. No problem, he told me, we’ll just take a shortcut through one of the department stores and be there in no time. We then made our way past racks of purses and pantsuits, and were then negotiating the maze of the perfume department, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a tremendously loud voice trumpeted to all nearby, "Oh, my God, the walls of my uterus are so thin…"

This resulted in the following conversation with my friend.
ME: At least now I have something to blog about.

As for 300, I’m afraid to say that I was rather bored. It seemed to be a two-hour-long slow-motion blood splatter, puncutated by bare breasts and a thirty-second decapitation scene. So by certain standards, this would be a great movie. Visually, though, it looked like a grimy painting, which I suppose could set the appropriate atmosphere for the telling of a legend. And in that context, the existence of a bottomless pit in the middle of town makes perfect sense.

Disclaimer: Although the author finds the subject of uteri to be inappropriate for the shopping mall, the author recognizes the right of shoppers to discuss whatever topics they please. The author also recognizes that uterine disorders are a serious matter and means no disrespect to anybody suffering uterine disorders. However, the author reserves the right to utter "Well, my uterus…" or some variation thereof when the author feels that an individual is disclosing inappropriately detailed personal information, whether or not uterine disorders are involved. The author acknowledges that he does not, to his knowledge, possess a uterus. That’s what makes it funny.

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