So, yeah. A whole lot more people were interested in the mole on my head than I thought would be interested in the mole on my head, which proves either that my moles are deeply fascinating to the multitudes or you were all really bored yesterday. Anyway, after such an outpouring of concern and support and surprisingly no jokes at my expense (at least none that I got) I feel like I owe you an update.
First things first, I have decided to name the mole Myrtle because I like it and also because my love for Dawn is deep and unending and possibly inappropriate but she sent me a page-a-day cat calendar so she should have expected that. So Myrtle and I went to the doctor yesterday, and the doctor said that while Myrtle may possibly be planning a coup d'etat or some other such mischief, she is not malignant and therefore can stay or go at my discretion. The doctor than presented my options for Myrtle's untimely demise. I can either go to my dermatologist who would apparently remove her with a melonballer, or some such contraption, or I could let the doctor just chop her off. The drawback of going to my dermatologist is that, while I love him for giving me magical zit potions that finally kicked the ass of my adult acne, he has the bedside manner of a trout and I try to avoid seeing him at all costs. The drawback of having it done by my doctor is that Myrtle may grow back, and if she did, I'm sure she would be almighty pissed.
So in the end, Myrtle and I left together to take some time to contemplate the lesser of two evils. We are going out for a nice dinner tonight, just us, to talk. Myrtle feels that we just don't communicate anymore.