Tuesday of last week, I'm spending some time on the scoots driving around people watching, when I notice my ass hurts.
And for no good reason. I hadn't been on a cross country trek on the scooter, I hadn't had any strange drunk sexual encounters (that I know of), and I didn't have my favorite Ethiopian dish the day before. Hurting for no reason. Or so I thought.
When I spoke to my friend Lazlo, and said I had a proper pimple in my ass, she didn't even make fun! She didn't console my ass either.... but that sounds like another story.
On Wednesday the pain was unmistakable. If I sat with legs crossed and a slight hip tilt I could forget it momentarily. Good thing I was golfing that day, as sitting isn't usual when golfing.
After a couple of holes (no pun intended) I decide that Jacquie, my golf pal, could use the comic relief that my ass could offer, so I disclose.
Jacquie laughs and tells me that I'm in big time denial.
Dude, that's not a pimple, it's a hemorrhoid.
At that moment, life as I knew it, was over. My first freaking hemorrhoid. I was reminded of one of the first South Park episodes where Cartman gets abducted by aliens in the night and they give him an ass probe. He farts fire streaks the whole next day. Dude, the aliens gave you an anal probe!!
No they didn't. It was just a dream.
Insert fire fart.
Dude it's a hemorrhoid.
No it ain't. It was just a dream.
Buy some Preparation H. (Even the name is old and from the 1950's and they use an 'H' like a big 'C' for cancer both said in a whisper. Not even the producers of the remedy want to say hemorrhoid fully.)
Hell no. If I buy it, I'm old. If I buy it and it works, I am old and I have a hemorrhoid. No good can come of it. If I think it's a pimple, then it's a pimple. Or maybe an ingrown hair.
If you're growing hair IN your ass, you have other problems pal. It's not a pimple or an ingrown hair. Just buy some stupid Preparation H. Do you want me to buy you some?
No, I wasn't anal probed. This is just a dream.
And then it was Thursday. When I woke up I heard someone asking for more blankets and demanding that I get up to make coffee and bacon. It was the freakin hemorrhoid! Yes, hemorrhoids like bacon, (which is also a legume. Fact.)
Based on the pain involved and the fact that it didn't seem to be getting smaller, I decided I would have to take a look. The important part of this scenario is that no mirror in my place is full length. (I know, how I do get dressed without one??) This means that a chair is necessary. I also make sure the lighting is adequate.
So there I am, ass cheeks spread, bright lights, bent over on a chair, looking through my knees at my ass. Is it looking back at me?? And of course, I fall over. Naked, I land in the bathtub, ripping off the shower curtain and smarting from hitting my shin.
I hear laughing. It's coming from my ass.
It was just a dream.
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