Sometimes I call her "mini-me"

She informed me, with a less than thrilled look on her face, that in the middle of her pap smear, the doctor had paused to ask her how I was doing.
"Are you mostly upset because this isn't the first time someone has asked you that when they've been in the vicinity of your cooter?" I asked her.
"Wow, you are so funny." she said flatly. "I just thought that there were more appropriate times for him to ask how you are doing."
"So you are telling me that, generally, you do not like it when people are touching your reproductive areas and thinking of me?" I questioned.
"Yes. That is what I am saying." she said, as she narrowed her eyes at me.
"It is not my fault that this keeps happening to you. I will try not to be so lovable. It is not my fault that I have the face of an angel." I paused. "So did anything else eventful happen at your physical?" I wondered aloud.
"Yes!" She beamed. "We determined that I am actually 5'3", not 5'2" like I had thought."
"That means nothing coming from the same doctor who told me that he would allow me to shrink a 1/4 of an inch so that I could be 5'11" and 1/2 instead of 5'11" and 3/4."
"You are raining on my parade." she said.
"You should have brought an umbrella." I told her.