Steph and Steve and I were all hired at the same time, so we have a shared history.
Steve checked my armbands while Steph did whatever mysterious thing it is that CT geniuses do to the machine before your scan. "You pregnant?" Steve asked.
"Geez, I hope not," I said, "as we'd either need a baby or a stable in Bethlehem at this point."
"How long's it been since you've had sex?" he persisted.
"Uh....a year?" I said, then added quickly, "I can't seem to get a date."
Steph chose that moment to get on the microphone into the scan room. "You gonna run her pee?" she asked.
"No," Steve said, "she hasn't had sex in a year."
Then I got up on the extremely narrow CT bed and had the contrast drip hooked up to my IV and laid there while they took slicey-dicey X-rays of my head. Steph warned me every time she injected dye. The dye makes any areas with high blood flow (like the perineum) feel quite warm; most women describe it as a feeling of having peed in their pants. That's about right.
In addition, Steph would occasionally say, "Okay....the dye's going in. Now: DON'T SWALLOW."
We finished in ten minutes or less. As I swung my legs off of the bed, Steph and Stevie both came into the room. I said, (and thank God for time to think of a good line) "Thanks, you guys! Between the dye injection and the warnings not to swallow, that was the most fun I've had in a year!"
Once in a very great while you get to leave the stage to applause.