*A young woman goes to her doctor's office, afraid of the strange development on the inside of her thighs . . . a green spot on the inside of each.
"They won't wash off, they won't scrape off and they seem to be getting worse."
The doctor assures her he'll get to the bottom of the problem, and tells her not to worry until the tests come back.
A few days later, the woman's phone rings. Much to her relief, it's the doctor.
She immediately begs to know what's causing the spots.
The doctor says, "You're perfectly healthy - - there's no problem. But I'm wondering, is your boyfriend a Harley guy?"
The woman stammers, "Why, yes, but how did you know?"
"Tell him his earrings aren't real gold."*
"They won't wash off, they won't scrape off and they seem to be getting worse."
The doctor assures her he'll get to the bottom of the problem, and tells her not to worry until the tests come back.
A few days later, the woman's phone rings. Much to her relief, it's the doctor.
She immediately begs to know what's causing the spots.
The doctor says, "You're perfectly healthy - - there's no problem. But I'm wondering, is your boyfriend a Harley guy?"
The woman stammers, "Why, yes, but how did you know?"
"Tell him his earrings aren't real gold."*
