2 days ago something happened to my ass that has never happened before. No, it was not butt sex. buttsex never has, and never will happen to my ass. No, whazzers, what happened to my ass is much worse than butt sex. 2 days ago my ass decided to grow it’s very own hemorrhoid.
After some intrabizzlenetting action I find that my 8 hours sitting on my ass all day, followed by 4 hours of sitting on my ass at home, followed by 4 hours of drinking and a couple hours of vodka shits is not neccessarily the greatest way to treat my dear rectum. Interresting.
I decide its time to take action. I read that in some severe cases, a doctor will make a tiny incision and let the blood out or whatever. sounds simple enough… now I just need something sharp. VIOLA! a sewing kit frenchy threw at me in vegas. Now I just need a way to see around to the dirty side. VIOLA! a 32″ fisheye mirror I sto… bought… uh, somewhere.
Dr. Scientist… paging Dr. Scientist. Patient in exam room 1 is ready.
I set up my halogen desk light on the floor and shine it upwards. The fisheye mirror is also layed out with surgical precision. I squat over the mirror. I do not like what I see. Now I know exactlly what Adam Sandler’s buffoon character was talking about. It blew my fucking mind.
So, I feel around and find the little pea sized hemorrhage on my asshole. It’s go time. Threaded needle in hand, I make my first move. Son of a Bitch. I am reconsidering my decision… just touching this little bastard with the needle tip sent the greatest pain I have ever felt directly to my medulla oblongata. After sucking up all the courage that exists in my frail, overweight, man boob possessing body, I push the needle in.
Nothing really happens and I don’t get the “instant drainage and pain relief” promised by WebMD. Fuck you WebMD. Back to the drawing board.
After some more research I learn that a warm rinsing will relieve the pain. I hop in the shower, kneel down, stick my ass in the air and touch my forehead to the tub as if praying to the hemorrhoid gods to have mercy on my ass. They vaguely answer my prayer after about 5 minutes of pleeding.
Having somewhat temporal relief, I get to thinking. Neosporin has magic properties for curing crotch rot, thus I figure it might do wonders for any affliction in that general area. I coat my nether-regions with a bounty of neo goodness and head off to sleep. It doesn’t seem to work. If only there was a product specifically made to cure what ails me. I remember Preperation-H. Sweet god I want some Preperation-H. I used to laugh at Preperation-H commercials. HA, I would say. No more. Now I want to run to Walgreens and buy a case of that shit. I don’t own any, but the commercials I’ve heard over the last 24 years promise relief like Rolaids. OK, Mr. Preperation-H man… give me your wares.
the battle continues.