I am the Coyote, Goo Goo G'Joob

There are signs and then there are signs. Sometimes signs are left open to interpretation. Others, not.

Today I went to the doctor to have her look at my right index finger - the ultimate pull my finger gag I told my dad. It's been swollen for about two months, closer to three, but I always downplay my symptoms to the doctor. So the nurse takes a look, asks me if I hit something.

"No. I think I would remember that."

Then the doctor comes in. Same thing. Impressed with my swelling and she says, "You know you really are a hard on." I think she meant to say hardass but I can't speak for her.

So she says she's going to take some blood to check for Lyme disease and orders an X-ray to determine what's going on. Lyme disease was not on my list of self-diagnoses. I figured arthritis or something related to sitting in a chair all day typing.

She takes some blood and then applies a Band-aid. A Wile E. Coyote Band-aid. That was the sign, the one not left open to interpretation.

Sometime in the past couple of months, I came to the conclusion that I am the Wile E. Coyote and others in my life - not my husband because I shit talk him enough on this thing - are the Road Runner.

Exhibit A: I actually work with a client called Acme Corporation. This is not a joke.

Exhibit B: I am frequently plotting my ascension (to a perfect body, to the perfect job, to a smooth canvas of a face made possible by Restylane) only to have some bird come along and drop an anvil on my head.

Exhibit C: I once worked for Herb Block, the editorial cartoonist for The Washington Post and close friend of Chuck Jones, creator of the Coyote.

Exhibit D: My Band-aid.

I don't need to be hit over the head here. I get it. I am the Coyote. For now.

I read that Chuck Jones said, "Wile E. is my reality. Bugs Bunny is my goal." I'm not sure I agree with that or even understand it. Besides I've always liked that big Southern chicken character who runs around saying,"Well I DO declare." I think he's also tortured by another, lesser bird.

Anyway, I'm going to look for the next sign. It's going to be a good one. I can feel it. Oh wait, there's something in the sky. It's big and shiny. It looks like a star falling toward Earth. Uh oh. RUN!

I'll tell ya' that anvil prank never gets old.