  So I am going to give you another funny story. I'm not going to promise to try harder... why don't you all write more? Or, maybe I could get paid for this... yes, yes, I could be like Carrie on Sex and the City. I love that idea. Ok, please send payments as soon as possible. Once upon a time, I received two hamsters for Christmas (this was like 1996, so I was in my early 20's.
Yes, it was a very strange gift. No, I did not ask for hamsters. ) I was assured by the giver that the hamsters were both female, so I named them Becky and Molly. Becky was sick. She died after a week. I cried a lot.
I'm a crier. Doesn't really matter why. Anyway, that just left Molly. Molly was cute and fluffy, but I didn't hold her or handle her much. Partly because I never really wanted a hamster and partly because I did not want to risk Molly getting away from me and turning into a cat treat. Plus, a hamster will poop in your hand.
One day, I was looking at Molly in her fish tank, and I noticed something protruding from her body. It was kind of two large bumps close together, very low down on her underside. Were they tumors? Goiters? No, they were testacles! Molly went and had a sex change operation without even telling me.
I couldn't believe it. I don't know where she got the money. She must have went to an expert doctor, because they were HUGE! Molly and I had a discussion about her name. I asked her what she wanted to be called now. She didn't have much to say.
So, I told her unless she thought of something better, I was just going to call her Mr. Molly. And that's what I did. Mr. Molly only lived about a year. He just stopped breathing right in front of me. I think the pressures of society judging him were too much to handle. He had always known he was a boy on the inside.
After his operation, it was hard for him to make friends, and the dating pool was scarce. It was really sad. It made me cry. The lesson here is tolerance, people. 
