I like the huge spike in readership that I experience when I talk about disgusting things that my body sometimes does. Hooboy, remember the hysterectomy era? Good times! I’m feeling nostalgic!
And, well… frankly, I just don’t feel as close to you as I used to. Remember the old days? Remember our romantic chats about granulation of the vaginal cuff? Those were precious bonding moments, people.
So I know that you are deeply concerned about my current issues. Because, friends: I have issues.
My first issue is that sometimes when I do one of two things, it has the potential to make a certain rather delicate part of my body very angry. This is a shame, because these two things? Are things I enjoy very much. And the angry body part? Not so much.
The first angering activity was NOT something I did this weekend, as I was vastly enjoying the company of women, and the activity I’m thinking of requires a penis. Whoops. Did I say that out loud? (Sometimes when it’s been a while since I’ve had some personal up-close time with a penis, I find myself saying penis more often because saying penis might possibly assuage my sadness at having not, you know, SEEN one. Penis!)
The second angering activity is really quite stupid. It does not make sense to me that a part of my body quite far away from my mouth should get so incredibly pissed off when my mouth chooses to enjoy some alcohol. But alas, it’s true. Sometimes when I drink, the alcohol gets into my system and and looks around and goes, “PSSSSSSST! Candida! Over here! You wanna piece’a DIS??”
Furthermore, if my body is gonna choose to get all freaked out over ONE DRINK, I am saddened that I didn’t at least binge and get so drunk that I at least have a good story to show for it. I mean, come ON. “I sipped one drink over the course of 3+ hours and all I got was this lousy yeast infection.” Have you ever seen that on a t-shirt? Me either.
So there’s that. Under control, being treated, and ITCHY AND BURNING AND SO VERY WRONG. Ahem.
Maybe if that was all I was dealing with today, it would’ve been okay. But wait, there’s more! I also had a year’s supply of turtle wax! No, that’s wrong. I don’t even have any turtles. No, what I have is allergies. Which is nearly as useful.
I forgot to take my Allegra today. Not a big deal. Except that I have really long eyelashes.
What do you mean, What the hell does that have to do with anything? Must I explain EVERYTHING? Fine.
I have allergies. I also wear glasses. When my allergies are bad, my eyes water. Constantly. I have really long eyelashes, which touch the lenses of my glasses. When my eyes water, my lashes smudge my glasses. And then I can’t see. And I am rather fond of seeing. So I remove my glasses and wipe them off. And put them back on. And blink. Whereupon the lenses get smudged.
And then I go all Hulk and stomp up and down on my glasses.
Or just, you know, endure the puzzled glances from the other people sitting in a meeting with me, who are clearly wondering what my major malfunction is that necessitates removing my glasses and swiping at them every five seconds.
And then I say, “Listen, I can do this, or I can scratch my inflamed crotch. Your choice.”
I’m so glad I can share these things with you, Internet. Wanna cuddle?
Honey, come on over and scratch all you want. I have local wine, want some? Clean off a chair for yourself and let’s chat. Don’t pay no nevermind to the sticky tabletop or the horny cat. Well, he has no balls but he still ACTS horny. And please don’t feel like you have to cover up the footprints you’re leaving on the dusty carpet. Heck, those will fill right in after a few days. Have some more wine; it was stomped only a few miles from here.
Ever since we returned from Disneyworld I’ve made up several versions of “The Work Song”. This is the song that the mice sing to Cinderella, remember that song? I shall sing for you my latest version, and this shall make everything better. And if it doesn’t, well, you always have your new shoes and sweater.
You’re so pretty and oh so smelly
Do the drinking and the itching
then come here to do some bitching
She goes around in circles
Till she’s very, very dizzy
Still they holler
Keep a-typin’ Cinderelly!
We can do it, we can do it
We can help our Cinderelly
We can make her stats so pretty
There’s nothing to it, really!
Okay. Laugh all you want at my squeaky mouse voice, really. I don’t mind! I was just trying to help.
Oh you poor dear girl. See this is what happens when you use your powers for personal gain (i.e fun trip to Vermont)
Unfortunately , i feel Your pain.
Who knew yeast infections could be so funny? Ok, well… not really funny for you, but you make it quality entertainment.
Ah, nothing like a nice yeast infection to make you want to stick a hot poker in your eye. (or somewhere)
L. acidophilus pills can help keep them away. Maybe before you go binge drinking again you could get some in your system :)
Ohhhh….Idea for a new adult Beetlejuice-esque type movie… I’ll just let you figure out the rest of it… but you know….you say it 3 times and “it” appears….
Did I say that right, Jules?
No, Ben…I think you meant to say, “Big Beetle Penis, Big Beetle Penis…” heavy sigh, “Big Beetle Penis!”
I mean, not you, personally…I meant Mir…oh, nevermind!
LOL @ Ben… You think that rolls off the tongue better than….say….
…..Mir..is there a line here I might have just crossed??
I was not about to try and mix Penisjuice with a yeast infection.
That would be one strange brew…
LOL because “Big Beetle Penis” makes it all normal again
Dude, trim your eyelashes!
penispenispenispenispenis..now. i feel better :)
hope you get all your itches scratched real soon!
Results 1 – 10 of about 97,500 for Big Beetle Penis. (0.23 seconds)
Google is not always your friend. Ew.
Ben and Jules, you are sick and wrong. And I like that in a person!
Mir, um, not that I’m unsympathetic, but people whose eyelashes are that long are FAR too pretty to bitch. We the lashless ask that you get contacts and SHUTTUP. I still heart you, though!
Eyelashes, eyelashes, eyelashes! Crap, it didn’t work.
You know what it’s like to walk into a room and hear the last of a conversation? “And that’s how you can tell if you’ve been probed by aliens”.
This is definately the last time I open comments before unfolding the post.
Never a dull moment with Mir.
P.S. My condolences on your affliction(s). If it’ll make you feel any better, my butt crack itches like a mother right now. It’s hard to get a good dig in when your office has a picture window onto the cubicles outside.
You really know how to party, Mir.
I have a group of online buddies that use the word PENS! at the top of important posts, to get the attention of others, since our twisted minds read it as penis.
Actually, once, another regular on that message board wanted recipes for cucumbers, and started her post CUCUMBER! and that got lots of attention, too.
Mir! It hates my blog address! If I don’t put it in the URL box or in the actual comment, I can comment. I can finally comment. Glory be!
psst, want some vi@gra?
Once when my husband was away travelling, he called me and I said,
“You know how the superstition goes, that if your ears are burning, that it means someone is talking about you? What do you think it means if SOMETHING ELSE is burning?”
He got a huge kick outta that.