Ripped from the headlines, or from Tasha’s life

So, I’m used to people wanting to emulate my every move, learn everything about my stringent training regimen, find out what my secrets to obvious success are. Par for the course. But imagine my shock to discover that not only is someone doing all this, but they’re also taking that information and SELLING my tale to HOLLYWOOD! Before I have a chance to, that is. What else could be the explanation as to why every week on Grey’s Anatomy, oh look, it’s something else snatched directly from my life? To wit:

3 episodes ago – The woman in her 30s who had breast cancer, who was in the hospital for some supposedly unrelated gallbladder operation or something, and was full of wit, humor, etc.........and then they open her up and discover that the cancer has spread to her liver or something and is inoperable. Okay, so that last part isn’t true for me (note that I am NOT knocking on wood – take that, Universe!), but the rest of it? Hmph. We were like twins, separated at birth.

2 episodes ago – The woman who’s in a car crash with friends (been there – thanks Assclown of last summer), and winds up with a brain injury where her memory resets every 30 seconds, so she doesn’t remember anything. Hmm, sound familiar?? I wouldn’t know, I don’t remember.

Last episode – This was my favorite – it was like I was watching me on the screen. The woman who inexplicably keeps getting broken bones, and when they tell her that this time she broke something else yet again, she looks upward and rails against fate and the heavens with a loud “Come ON!” The Grey’s people have no idea why she’s doing this, but I knew immediately, oh yes. In fact, it instantly recalled to mind my last race last summer before I went tumbling and crushed my collarbone (and got that brain injury), and was toodling along on my bike in my Catwoman costume, when lo and behold, what should go loping right in front of me, all the way across the street, as if it had been lying in wait in the bushes on the far side? Yes folks, a BLACK CAT. Now seriously, talk about a bad cliché! And improbable as well – since when do cats ever run anywhere? So of course at that point I did in fact raise a questioning hand to the sky and proclaim “Oh, COME ON! You’ve GOT to be kidding me!”

I don’t know what else Grey’s has about my life to go with for now, so I suppose I’ll get a reprieve. But if I find myself being shoved under falling icicles or drinking tainted glogg so that someone has new material to work with.....I’ll know who to blame.