Where political correctness goes to die . . .

So, my pal has recently been diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma (aka cancer, for those of you playing at home). And yes, that does suck major balls, but he’s told me it’s the “good cancer” to get, if you have to get one. Hmmm sounds like being locked in a room with Ted Bundy instead of Hitler - the lesser of two evils. Anywho, he started chemo this week and came down to do beach patrol with us this afternoon when the following awesome tid-bit of conversation happened -

(Sitting in the Patrol beach buggy)

Jordan: Can you drive me up to the club to get a drink?

Me: No.

Jordan: Please.

Me: Noooo, we just went for, like, three drives.

Jordan: I have cancer.

(Silence)

Me: Fine.