Dear Seth Rogen

I am in the midst of an unseemly medical mystery. In times like this, having a father who is a doctor comes in handy.  It is especially helpful that my father is a doctor of medicine, as opposed to one of the many other fields that might bestow a doctorate degree.  I’m not saying that other types of doctors are any less important.  I’m just saying I wouldn’t ask former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay (University of Houston, PhD) for health advice.

Of course, my MD father and I do not always see eye to eye.  For years, we battled about whether or not a comb over is a convincing form of deception.  I won that battle in June of 2002, when my father finally faced reality (and his barber), having his comb over permanently removed.  Despite our different fashion aesthetic, when it comes to medical advice, I put faith in my father’s expertise.  When a medical issue arises, my Libertarian father is always the first person I call.

But there is a problem, Seth Rogen.  This particular medical issue is of the feminine nature.  Talking to your father about botheration in your box is uncouth no matter how you spin it.  It’s not as if I were talking to you, Seth Rogen.  You, I feel I can tell anything.   I do hope the feeling is mutual.  My father, however, has been voted among the top doctors in Arizona.  It was only natural for me to call him first.  I’m sure you understand.

Our phone call was short, Seth Rogen.  Discussing the temperament of my nether regions with my Libertarian father made for an especially uncomfortable conversation.  The only discomfort I can compare it to might be the discomfort I am currently seeking medical attention for.  The conversation culminated in my father yelling in exasperation, “Debbie, this is not my field.  Go see your gynecologist!”

Honestly, Seth Rogen, I was shocked.  My dad has always said I could tell him anything. Not to mention he will hear about it eventually, as my gynecologist is his best friend.  I’m sure they talk about that sort of thing by the water cooler.  Or during their Friday evening card game.

Oh well, this too shall pass.  Off to the pharmacy. Hope I’m feeling better by the time I see you on Tuesday at the House of Blues.  Don’t forget, it’s in the Foundation Room. We can swap gyno stories with Jeff Garlin.  I bet he has some great ones.  It will be such fun.  Can’t wait to see you there, Seth Rogen.

Until then…