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"You've got a big problem with your front matter." My gynecologist says to me as I'm laying with my eyes closed, legs akimbo, in the clinic.
"I have!" I say.
"It doesn't look good," he says.
I've still got my eyes closed. "Will I need an operation or something?"
"No, a printer should be able to fix it for you."
Say what? "A printer?"
"Yep," he says.
I open my eyes and he's sitting reading at his desk. Er, hello?
"Yeah, three typos in the preface of your novel," he says.
Jeez, he was talking about my freakin' new book.

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