Thursday, May 27, 2004

Terror of all Terror's

More sour than a thousand lemons, more cantankerous than a Human Resource officer with a bad case of heat rash, more foul than a zillion bloated whale carcasses...'s the dreaded Doctor's Receptionist!!

I have an appointment tomarrow morning and i'm scared. my doctor's receptionist eats firey brimstone, exhale rotten sulphur fumes, and shits pure coal brickettes. Godzilla himself would recoil in terror upon being greeted by this colossal Megabitch behind her glass enclosure in the sterile office reception lobby. I'm as scared to go as I would if I was going to Frolein Hilda’s S&M Boutique where she would greet me wearing black vinyl dominatrix garb and with Marilyn Manson playing on the reception music system, and handcuff me naked to the lobby chair with a with a cue ball stuck in my mouth and proceed to whip me with a fresh mackerel attached to the end of a broomhandle until the doctor is ready to see me.

But beyond surviving the demon receptionist (for this, I would recommend bringing a sacrificial token to offer to this vile being in tribute to keep her preoccupied ~ like a live beating human heart), todays doctor's appointment has confirmed that I have a irritation in my groin and thigh areas thanks to all the recent walking/hiking i have been making back and forth between home and work...especially now that the weather it hotter. The irritation has become unbearable to the point where it’s all I can do to stop myself from going at my nuts with a cheese grater with all the focused vigorousness of an Indian washer woman scrubbing her soiled laundry down by the river.

I can for sure now say that having another man stare at your balls is every bit as uncomfortable as I had previously imagined. luckily, I did all the handling and the aged doctor only called in the plays from the sidelines with all the detailed enthusiasm of a basketball coach after a caffeine enema. It is VERY unnerving to have a strange older man get up close and personal with your boys as he inspects your nuts like he was determining the carats of two of the world's largest flesh-colored cubic zerconia's.

At the conclusion of this demasculating examination, it was determined that I need a special combination steroid and anti-fungal cream, which oddly enough, looks like Squeezie-Cheesy. Now, that’s *EXACTLY* what you want to hear when your balls are in question. Shit, now there's something i'm not likely to bring up at parties (public message boards are okay though). I almost spontaneously crawled up into my own asshole to hide when the pharmacist called out my prescription outloud in the store.

The prescription is for "Triamcinolone Acetonide, Nystatin, and Neomycin Sulfate"...geez, that sounds like something they would hand out at a Vancouver methodone clinic. I contemplated carrying around a cosmetic compact of Gold Bond, but I have the impression that given the actual level of discompfort I am experiencing, i'm not likey going to start carrying around a cosmetic compact and stop to power my balls every 20 minutes like some 20's silent movie actor hollering for "...MAKEUP!!" Likewise, Gold bond is not a preventive cure, it’s only temporary relief. It’s like cocaine for your balls…you keep coming back for more and more until you’re hooked…and I currently have enough monkey’s on my back now that I don’t need any more dependancies, especially for my balls.

Perhaps the 'glass-is-half-full' approach to this issue is that this special anti-fungal cream (Christ, that gives me the heeby-jeebies just typing that!) has an added steroid in it too. If i'm lucky, maybe my nads will grow to the size of ripe pommegranites and I will be the envy of all my peers and I could go on tour with the 'Jim Rose Circus Sideshow' as "Gigantor - the Man with Humungus Testicles" THERE'S a life worth living!!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

cant .... stop .... laughing

10:23 PM  
Blogger dysan47 said...

Too much Terry!!!!

3:37 PM  

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