Once again, I know it seems like I'm rushing through this. Well, I won't deny that I am. It just gets to be a pain thinking, "What am I going to write about my ass this time?". What a silly thing to think about...
So let's all flash forward a few months from the last entry. It was during good times. I just celebrated my birthday (the 14th one in a row) and just switched jobs. I was happy, I was feeling good, I was OWWW...what the hell was that? Once again my old friend, the lump, decided to rear it's ugly head. Well, I'm not sure it had a head, but it had a voice, and it decided to talk.
"Hellooooooo.", it said in a creepy voice.
I didn't answer.
"Hellooooooo?", it said again.
I still didn't respond.
Then it said, "If you won't answer me, I'll just have to hurt you." And hurt me, it did.
For the next few days a mean pain arose. Sitting and even laying down became uncomfortable and painful. That really upset me, because those were two things I was really good at.
As time passed, I decided to examine the area. Imagine my surprise when I looked to find that I was growing a tail! Normally growing a tail would be a good thing. It's a sign of evolution, after all. But this tail sucked! It wasn't even a cool prehensile tail. At least with one of those, I could put it to good use by having another appendage to feed myself with.
Enough was enough and it was finally time to get this taken care of. I was tired of my lump controlling me. Heck, it even made me watch late night Cinemax dirty movies, and I hate doing that...yeah, right. After a full day of calling doctors' offices with no luck, I decided I had to go to the emergency room. What an adventure that was. Just when I thought that Wal-Mart shoppers were on the lowest rung on the evolutionary ladder, the emergency room patrons found a new way to set the deficient chromosome standard. If you happen to be a Wal-Mart shopper who is checking this out, don't feel bad. I typed this part really slow so you can read this.
This emergency ward was something special. There were folks laid out all over the floors just bleeding, passing out, and smoking all over the place. I guess the cigarettes takes the edge off the pain of a sucking chest wound.
After a few hours, my number was finally called. I went into the room and prepared to take my lumps, or in this case, get my lump taken out. The physician laid me on the table and told me to relax. At least one of us was, because I hear her mutter under her breath, "Oh my God." I don't know if it was the sight of my classically sculpted ass (once again...yeah, right), or the giant lump winking at her that freaked her out (by this time it had grown a set of eyes).
I'll give her credit though, she was a trooper. In a matter of minutes she had me numbed, lanced, and drained. (I thought I'd spare you the gory details.) One prescription of percocets and a surgeon's referral later I was on my way again, feeling relieved for just a few more days...
-B
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Y2Cajun/018ElP.jpg
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Chapter Three...Pain for a good cause.
I really want to get this story done. There are so many more interesting things going on in the world and I'm pretty sure you'd rather read about them than listen to me ramble on about my ass. So if it seems like I'm cutting a few corners, you'll know why. On with the show...
It was tough calling the doctor's office for me because I knew they were going to ask why I wanted to come in, and I didn't know how to tell them I was afraid of my ass. I guess I just wasn't well versed in the technical terminology. I'm sorry if I didn't know how to say 'ass lump' in Latin. So, I just lied and said that I needed a physical.
When I showed up for my appointment, I kind of felt sorry for the doctor. She was probably thinking that she was going to just slap a stethoscope on my chest and let me be on my way. Instead, I was coming with an ugly surprise.
As a sidenote, I chose a female doctor, because women generally have small, soft hands, and I didn't want a guy with some giant, rock crushing mitts anywhere near my butt. (Yes, I actually put that much thought into it.)
After the song and dance of getting my blood pressure and pulse taken, I sprung the lump on my doctor. And when I say 'sprung' I mean I barely whispered, "I think there's something wrong with my butt." Hey, you never know if someone else was listening. Either way, she said, "Ok then. Let's take a look", and made me drop my pants. Ok, she didn't MAKE me do it. It's just that I've never passed a chance to moon someone.
Well, when I mooned her, she gave me the most shocking and painful goose of my entire life. I guess that was her payback for surprising her with an ass lump. After a bit of prodding she wanted me to go get some X-rays done.
Flash forward to a few hours later and I'm in a radiology office. At this point my dignity is sky high. Why wouldn't it be? I'm a paper robe and socks, I'm still stinging from the goosing, and I'm still not sure what this lump is. Just to make things a little worse, the X-ray tech was in a bad mood. I tried to cheer her up by telling her that things could have been worse. SHE could have been walking around with an ass lump. She replied, "I wish I had one." Ok, I made that part up.
Then she thumbed me in the eye and pushed me onto the table...ok, I made that part up too.
After the X-ray process came the most nerve-racking few minutes of my life. The information had to be sent to the doc's office and then they had to call back and tell me what it was. Those five minutes wreaked havoc on me. The whole time my mind was just churning crazy thoughts. "What if it's cancer? What will I do? What if I have to have chemotherapy? Will I look good bald? I wonder if a lot of folks will show up to my funeral? I wonder if they'll let me rent midgets to entertain folks at my burial..." I know those are morbid and weird thoughts, but that's what actually went through my head.
Then the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat.
"Sir, good news. It's not a tumor" (visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger screaming at five year olds danced in my head)
Relief came over me. No, not THAT kind of relief. I haven't peed on myself in years...two, to be exact. I was so happy that I sprinted and slid down the freshly waxed hallways of the office in my paper gown and socks. The moody X-ray tech yelled at me for that, but I didn't care. My ass lump wasn't trying to kill me, and that's all I cared about. So I got dressed, thanked everyone and went on about my way...for a few months.
-B
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Y2Cajun/017ElP.jpg
p.s. I got into another show at the DC Improv. It's on Thursday, August 4th at 8:30 p.m. So, if you'd like to see me and some very funny and talented folks for a night of live, totally improvised comedy, log onto www.dcimprov.com and purchase your tickets. Buy them early because the show will sell out. Hope to see you all there!
It was tough calling the doctor's office for me because I knew they were going to ask why I wanted to come in, and I didn't know how to tell them I was afraid of my ass. I guess I just wasn't well versed in the technical terminology. I'm sorry if I didn't know how to say 'ass lump' in Latin. So, I just lied and said that I needed a physical.
When I showed up for my appointment, I kind of felt sorry for the doctor. She was probably thinking that she was going to just slap a stethoscope on my chest and let me be on my way. Instead, I was coming with an ugly surprise.
As a sidenote, I chose a female doctor, because women generally have small, soft hands, and I didn't want a guy with some giant, rock crushing mitts anywhere near my butt. (Yes, I actually put that much thought into it.)
After the song and dance of getting my blood pressure and pulse taken, I sprung the lump on my doctor. And when I say 'sprung' I mean I barely whispered, "I think there's something wrong with my butt." Hey, you never know if someone else was listening. Either way, she said, "Ok then. Let's take a look", and made me drop my pants. Ok, she didn't MAKE me do it. It's just that I've never passed a chance to moon someone.
Well, when I mooned her, she gave me the most shocking and painful goose of my entire life. I guess that was her payback for surprising her with an ass lump. After a bit of prodding she wanted me to go get some X-rays done.
Flash forward to a few hours later and I'm in a radiology office. At this point my dignity is sky high. Why wouldn't it be? I'm a paper robe and socks, I'm still stinging from the goosing, and I'm still not sure what this lump is. Just to make things a little worse, the X-ray tech was in a bad mood. I tried to cheer her up by telling her that things could have been worse. SHE could have been walking around with an ass lump. She replied, "I wish I had one." Ok, I made that part up.
Then she thumbed me in the eye and pushed me onto the table...ok, I made that part up too.
After the X-ray process came the most nerve-racking few minutes of my life. The information had to be sent to the doc's office and then they had to call back and tell me what it was. Those five minutes wreaked havoc on me. The whole time my mind was just churning crazy thoughts. "What if it's cancer? What will I do? What if I have to have chemotherapy? Will I look good bald? I wonder if a lot of folks will show up to my funeral? I wonder if they'll let me rent midgets to entertain folks at my burial..." I know those are morbid and weird thoughts, but that's what actually went through my head.
Then the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat.
"Sir, good news. It's not a tumor" (visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger screaming at five year olds danced in my head)
Relief came over me. No, not THAT kind of relief. I haven't peed on myself in years...two, to be exact. I was so happy that I sprinted and slid down the freshly waxed hallways of the office in my paper gown and socks. The moody X-ray tech yelled at me for that, but I didn't care. My ass lump wasn't trying to kill me, and that's all I cared about. So I got dressed, thanked everyone and went on about my way...for a few months.
-B
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Y2Cajun/017ElP.jpg
p.s. I got into another show at the DC Improv. It's on Thursday, August 4th at 8:30 p.m. So, if you'd like to see me and some very funny and talented folks for a night of live, totally improvised comedy, log onto www.dcimprov.com and purchase your tickets. Buy them early because the show will sell out. Hope to see you all there!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Chapter Two...Taking My Lumps
When we last left off I was ignoring the warning signs that my body was giving me. I’ve never been one to heed warning signs anyway. I’m the type of guy who would eat Pop Rocks and drink Coke even though I know that is one of the deadliest combinations known to man. I know it’s true because I read it on the internet.
So I was living relatively pain free, unless you count watching a few episodes of American Idol, until one day I was sitting on the floor of my apartment organizing my CD’s by alphabetical order by artist, then by year, then by how many tracks were on the CD…I’m anal that way. I rolled onto my back to reach for some CD’s and it hit me again. This time the pain was so intense I actually talked to Elvis. What a weird conversation that was. It went a little something like this…
Elvis said, “Hey there buddy. If ya pass me that chocolate donut and a bottle of Formula 44D, I’ll buy you a Cadillac.”
I replied, “OOOOWWWWWWW!!! MY ASS IS KILLING ME!!!”
Elvis then said, “Thankyaveramuch.”
I told you it was weird. After Elvis left the building, I went to the bathroom and finally mustered up the courage to check my butt. I wasn’t embarrassed this time. After all, searing pain tends to make a person forget modesty. Also, I was alone at my place and I’ve done far more embarrassing things there by myself. (Hey, that inflatable doll wasn’t mine. Someone left it there.)
It was the moment of truth, or some cliché like that. I felt around down there and my world stopped spinning. I felt a lump. I’ll say it again so it really hits home. I…felt…a…lump.
For the third time in my life I was scared. The first time was when I was a little kid and went to go see the movie “E.T.” (that toad faced critter messed me up good), the second time was when I had to face the fact that my Grandma June was sick and dying (I don’t think I’ll ever get over that), and this third time was definitely a charm.
The next few days were a morbid haze. My thoughts were consumed with this little lumpy menace sitting on my tailbone harassing me. Sometimes it felt like this monster was controlling me by throwing itself into conversations. When folks would say ‘hi’ I’d reply with, “Have a nice lump…I mean ‘day’.”
After a few more days of self-torture I finally decided to call the doctor. And in I went…
-B
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Y2Cajun/016ElP.jpg
So I was living relatively pain free, unless you count watching a few episodes of American Idol, until one day I was sitting on the floor of my apartment organizing my CD’s by alphabetical order by artist, then by year, then by how many tracks were on the CD…I’m anal that way. I rolled onto my back to reach for some CD’s and it hit me again. This time the pain was so intense I actually talked to Elvis. What a weird conversation that was. It went a little something like this…
Elvis said, “Hey there buddy. If ya pass me that chocolate donut and a bottle of Formula 44D, I’ll buy you a Cadillac.”
I replied, “OOOOWWWWWWW!!! MY ASS IS KILLING ME!!!”
Elvis then said, “Thankyaveramuch.”
I told you it was weird. After Elvis left the building, I went to the bathroom and finally mustered up the courage to check my butt. I wasn’t embarrassed this time. After all, searing pain tends to make a person forget modesty. Also, I was alone at my place and I’ve done far more embarrassing things there by myself. (Hey, that inflatable doll wasn’t mine. Someone left it there.)
It was the moment of truth, or some cliché like that. I felt around down there and my world stopped spinning. I felt a lump. I’ll say it again so it really hits home. I…felt…a…lump.
For the third time in my life I was scared. The first time was when I was a little kid and went to go see the movie “E.T.” (that toad faced critter messed me up good), the second time was when I had to face the fact that my Grandma June was sick and dying (I don’t think I’ll ever get over that), and this third time was definitely a charm.
The next few days were a morbid haze. My thoughts were consumed with this little lumpy menace sitting on my tailbone harassing me. Sometimes it felt like this monster was controlling me by throwing itself into conversations. When folks would say ‘hi’ I’d reply with, “Have a nice lump…I mean ‘day’.”
After a few more days of self-torture I finally decided to call the doctor. And in I went…
-B
http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y245/Y2Cajun/016ElP.jpg
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