The Squishy Ride Home

Posted: August 3, 2009 in pain and suffering, wtf

Wow…and I didn’t even need to buy him dinner.

Let me explain.

The other day, I finally had my first post-40 physical exam.

How did I do?

How did I do?

Well..the only thing he found wrong was that I repeat questions twice sometimes.

I’ll give you a minute on that one.

Ah…you’re back.

So…I’m totally healthy.

That’s right.

Fit as a fucking fiddle.

******* Sidebar *******

If there can be dueling banjos, why can’t there be fucking fiddles?

Or…can there be?


***** End Sidebar *****

Aaaaaand…we’re back.

So, here’s the rundown:

1) Blood pressure: awesome

This is strange, considering that I have two children who drive me fucking nuts OMG OMG are you serious…I just stepped on a goddamn Lego Knight in the middle of the fucking BATHROOM..JESUS H. CHRIST ARE YOU KIDS TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME?!?!?!


That one’s a mystery.

2) Cholesterol: awesome

This, too, despite relying mainly on a diet consisting of mayonnaise and mayonnaise-related products.

(read: more mayonnaise and mayo-flavored mayonnaise substitutes)

3) Prostate: tight

Like…really tight.

How do I know this?

This discovery came during this portion of the exam:

Doctor: “ if you would drop your underwear, we’ll do the hernia and prostate check.”

Me: “Does that cost extra to do?”

Doctor: “No..why?”

Me: “Because having my balls juggled with a finger in my ass usually runs me about $35 on the street.”

* cricket

Ah. I was wondering why I didn’t see a degree in “Adult humor” on his wall.





* thud

(I wish)

Actually…it was pretty cold in the office.

Knowing that this portion of the exam would be coming up…

…and that my tiny package would become even tinier due to the temperature of the room…

…I had spent the time before the doctor came in looking through “Men’s Fitness” magazine trying to find SOMETHING…ANYTHING…to get my Mr. Wiggly to…

…you know…


No dice.

On a related note: I probably should have wiped down the pages of the magazine before I left the office because they now have my dick germs on them.

So, bollocky bare-ass, the doctor has me turn my head and cough while he gently caresses my hairless balls.


I need to write a romance novel.

That was fucking beautiful, right there.

He then tells me to turn around, and put my elbows on the examination table.


…it’s spelunking time.


Doctor: “Okay…relax…you’ll feel some pressure…


It happened.

Did I feel pressure?

If by ‘pressure’ you mean ‘the feeling of taking a giant ass-ripping shit,’ then…yeah…

I felt some pressure.

Seriously…from what it felt like, I’m assuming this guy can palm basketballs.


At one point, I think he tickled my liver.

After what seemed like forever, he pulled out of my firm little ass with an audible ‘schloooop!’ then said:

Doctor: “If you need tissues, there are some right there.”

Me: “Yep…I need tissues.”

I needed tissues because, apparently, to violate the tight little sphincter of a 5’2″ tall, 150 pound heterosexual male…

…you need to use approximately 15 pounds of lube.


In what was undoubtedly one of the most dignified moments of my almost 41-year life I stood there in the middle of a room with another guy…

…my underwear shabbily wrapped around my ankles as I wiped boatloads of lube out of the crack of my ass with a fucking Kleenex.

‘Twas a classic Kodak moment.

Kill me.

But wait…there’s more!

Having received a phenomenally excellent clean bill of health, I headed back to work.

Did I mention I drove my motorcycle that day?

Yep. Drove the Harley.

So, roughly 10 minutes into the 20 minute drive back to work…

..the vibrations of the motorcycle began to work their magic.

Let’s put it this way:

You know when you have some ketchup left in the bottle but you need to keep whapping it and shaking it upside down to get the last little bit out?

And when you do, it does that whole:



That was me.

However, instead of ketchup being shaken out of me.. was the other 14 pounds of lube being vibrated out my asshole.



So I rode the next ten minutes with Vaseline pouring out of my ass and squishing and squashing up and down my hairy ass crack and all over my tender little butt cheeks which were firmly pressed against the seat of my madly vibrating Harley.

Good times.

Good times.


…now I’m repeating regular sentences twice instead of just questions, now.

But if you think I’m going back to the doctor again for that shit, you’re sadly mistaken.



Steam Me Up Kid has a story eerily similar to this, but from a woman’s perspective.

She is one. Funny. Woman.

When a woman can tell a story about another woman sticking her finger in her ass and a guy LAUGHS instead of getting a boner, you know she’s funny.

Go read it.


Moog out.


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