Seriously

I have a lump on my chest. Two actually. Well, actually, those are my breasts. Those come with the original package. No, what I mean is that I have another lump. The kind you have to make doctor appointments for. (I've actually made three appointments already, but went to none.) Anyway, there is an interloper in this temple. At first, I thought, "Hmmm, must be those underwires", but months have passed and the small shack has turned into a three-bedroom co-op on the Upper East Side. I know I have to make an appointment with the doc and get this f*cker evicted. But I'm scared. Scared she'll turn to me and go, "Sorry, missy, no long-term plans for you." What?!? I haven't even begun to hatch long-term plans! This is so not right. Wish I can just sleep tonight and wake up all lump-less and better tomorrow. Well, not lump-less. I'd like to keep all the lumps that came with the original mold. I just wanna be, you know, okay.