Posts Tagged ‘ Humour ’

Flip flop folly

So in my previous post I stated that I have not done much of interest to remember in the last few years, that’s not actually true. I did travel across Europe by bike and the following story is one I wrote for someone about an incident that happened along the way. Might as well pop it up here.

So during a trip across Europe, I stopped in Rotterdam for a few days rest because the old legs were starting to complain louder than normal by refusing to work when I tried to cycle. Anyway… I camped in this nice little park area right in the middle of the city that’s hemmed in by large trees. You pay a few euro and you get to pitch your tent and use the facilities, All good and useful, lovely… So on the second day of rest I decided it was time to stock up on food and booze because the nights are quiet in the park and some whiskey would make things a little more interesting.

I headed out having absolutely no idea where I was going, the city was unfamiliar and I only realized that I had left the map behind me twenty minutes into walking around the city, street after street, so I wasn’t going back. I also stupidly wore the flip flops I used to let my feet breathe at the camp site. Long distance flip flopping, I do not recommend it, It’s absolute murder on endless paved path… But the real problem with the flip flops came about forty minutes into the ordeal, still wandering under the baking sun trying to find the shopping mall I stepped on a rather large pile of dog shit.

Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be so bad, right? You scrape it off on the side of the pavement and move on with perhaps a mild curse, but something magical had happened… To this day I am still not sure how… But as I lifted my flip flopped foot from the dog shit… A large piece somehow launched into the air and landed right under the skin of my foot inside the flip flop, by the time I had processed what had happened it was too late, my foot was back down upon the pavement… Squish. I stopped dead.

I don’t know how long I stood there, as long as I could get away with it until passers by noticed this strange statue of a man grimacing in place, not long. I could feel it, It was against my foot, fucking dog shit, crushed… Against my foot. Disaster. I now faced a terrible dilemma… Either I turn back now after forty minutes of wandering to clean my foot off, because it was an absolutely disgusting sensation to endure even for a second, Or… I push on. I don’t know why I did it, but I decided to keep going and get my shopping done. I pretended like it wasn’t there, even though each step squished the shit more tightly against my skin…  I had to act normal, no one must know.

You’ll forgive me for being graphic with this, I have to get across just how nasty it felt. With a renewed sense of focus and urgency I found the Mall after another twenty minutes of wandering, at this point I could smell it even as I walked, the heat of midday and my foot just cooked the stuff. I walked faster and faster to escape the smell but it caught me all the same. Finally after much speed walking in my shitty flip flops I’m at the food store.

It was really busy. My heart sank… Why did I do this? Why God? Doubts gnawed my resolve. But I couldn’t stop now, If I stayed still for more than a few seconds the game was up.. People would figure it out. I’m the one that smells like shit. So I grabbed a basket and moved with surgical precision. I had my mental checkl ist firing off in my mind as I walked. Bread roll, cheese, meat, grapes, apples, bananas, cakes, assorted chocolate bars and of course… Don’t forget the all important whiskey, I’ll need it after this.

I zoomed around the entire store before I picked up a single item, recon. I had to know where everything was because if I stopped to figure something out I was lost, it was crowded and the people behind me were most likely looking for the culprit, they could smell shit all right, but they couldn’t pin it on me If I kept moving, guilt followed closely at my heels. With a rough idea I started grabbing everything I needed, Bread, meats and fruit.. I got nearly all of it. But it was time to go… My foot was actually sliding against the flip flop at this point, my skin greased with shit… I was starting to visibly walk funny, not good. Time for the biggest test of all… The Checkout.

I found the least busy one, there were still three people ahead of me and that meant standing still, and that meant doom… I was sweating badly now, not just from the heat.. But because I knew the people in line with me could smell the shit. A little boy with his mother said something in Dutch behind me, It could have been anything since I don’t know the language, but I’m fairly certain it was something like “Mom, why does it smell like poo poo”? Then it happened, an older gentleman in front of me turning with this disgusted expression, waving a hand across his nose and pointing at me at the same time.

“Me!?”

He looked down at my shorts, so did the woman behind the till, they think I shat myself, they think I am some kind of pant shitter. I had been with this lie for so long now, invested so much into it, that I wasn’t going to give it up. All I could do was shake my head and shrug.. I don’t know his damn language. A security guard standing along the aisles came over and said something dutch and stern to me after a brief discussion with the lady at the till. My mouth flopped and I jerked out a few words while pointing at the checkout. I am not going without my items. Not after everything… Please, you don’t know what I have been through you Dutch bastards. They think I’m a vagrant and perhaps I am, but this ordeal has to mean something… So I refused to budge until she scanned my items and I paid… Walking out shame faced, flanked by watching faces with the security guard who kept talking to me in Dutch even though I clearly did not have a clue what he was saying… So I just nodded and carried my shame… Along with my shopping.

After another near hour of walking back under the hot sun I made it to the park… Slipping and sliding on my flip flop the whole way. Finally this nightmare can end though, I made a beeline straight into the fucking showers because this shit has got to go. The sole of my foot was pure brown, I scrubbed it for all I was worth, again and again and again until my foot was as new. So smelling fresh as a daisy I walked back to my tent with the shopping bags in my bare feet, the flip flops were thrown in the bin along with the shame. I unpacked everything, Bread, cheese, meat… The lot, but I had forgotten the whiskey. I almost cried.

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Me, My Balls and I

*WARNING: FOLLOWING BLOG CONTAINS EXPLICIT DESCRIPTION OF MY BALLS*

Well….

I’ve just had two women fondle my nut sack, but not in the fashion I’d have liked. For some time now I’ve had a small lump on my Scrotum which mildly concerned me, but not enough to spur me into action. Finally in the last week this lump started to grow at an alarming rate and became painful, I was forced with a choice, delude myself into thinking nothing was wrong, or go see the doctor about whatever horrible potential thing was happening to my man bits. As appealing as the first option was, I took a dose of courage and made an appointment for this morning; the doctor was young, female and attractive…good thing I hear you say?…How wrong you are! I got a bad case of stage fright, it was bloody cold in that room, that’s my excuse, so I felt I was a little misrepresented truth be told… But anyway, she asked me to pull down my pants… Not to my ankles mind you, that would spare me a shred of dignity, no-no…  just enough to expose my bum and frontal area for her viewing pleasure. I did as was told and sort of waddled into position for her inspection… After a good long minute of squinting and head tilting she finally ventured a guess “It looks like a..” she trailed off as she began to stare again, what the fuck am I supposed to think? Don’t leave me in terrifying suspense here Doctor, a diagnosis would be appreciated… “A cyst. We’re going to have drain it” she finally admits. Grand! I thought to myself, we can arrange some day to visit a surgery and have at it, plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for the coming horror, but oh no… She of course meant right now this instant and told me so very matter of factly. Before I could come up with fantabulously creative lie to escape she was out the door and into another room to prepare… Oh joy.

“Keith!… Could you follow me down the hall please.” She shouted up about a minute later… Meanwhile, I’m still standing there with my penis hanging out, debating if I should go to the trouble of pulling my pants back up to walk a few feet down a hallway or just go as was. I don’t know why but I had a little laugh to myself at the mental image of my waddling into the other room all jiggly like… What a heroic thing to do if you think about it, shame aside of course, but anyway I’m a coward so I pulled my pants up and met my destiny. Walking into the room I was told to pull my pants back down again straight away and to lay flat on the small operating table chair thingy they had… So doing as I was told I lay myself down. There was now a nurse, a much older woman… To assist the doctor, they stood either side of me and both of them began to have a little root around down below, discussing the best way to perform the procedure… It was nice, I have to admit, It was a pleasant prelude to a horrible experience, why not enjoy it? As long as I didn’t get an erection everything would be plain sailing. They decided to numb the area around the cyst (on my nutsack) with a local,  so I was informed that this would sting quite a bit. The older nurse clutched my hand in hers, which lay flat on my chest, I took this as a bad omen… I mean when do you ever see that? The only time I’ve ever seen someone clutching another persons hand like that was when something really painful and horrible was about to transpire, you clutch the hand of a dying man to bring him some small measure of comfort as that great black descends upon him.

I felt it, boy did I feel it, the needle piercing my poor scrotum, this was a new kind of sting, a high voltage sting, it’s been many a year since I have been introduced to a new frequency of stinginess but this was just intensely awful… I squeezed that old hags hand like a motherfucker. I was glad I didn’t shave my balls for this now, let the pair of them suffer like poor old foolish me, welcome to the jungle bitches!.. An eye for an eye! The pain finally reached a lovely crescendo and then vanished… Cool numbness made its introduction and I welcomed it with open arms, the needle was replaced with a small stainless steel blade… Very fine and precise, I didn’t look… I couldn’t, what man alive could lay and there and actually look at his brain being cut on like that? Not me, not today. I fixed eyes upon the ceiling and pulled the kind of grimace normally reserved for Someone attempting to shit out a football. The Old nurse didn’t seem to mind me squeezing her hand either, she finally asked if I was ok and if I needed anymore local as I looked to be in some distress… I informed her that the face I was pulling was a purely natural one considering the circumstances ( Two women, My balls and a blade ) and that she shouldn’t be alarmed as I couldn’t feel a thing now anyway… What the doctor did down there I can only guess at… It involved cutting and draining I imagine, not a pretty image… You’re probably retching or thinking about retching right now, that’s fine, I would be too, I did warn you at the start of this blog in large capital letters did I not?

It was a somewhat deflating end… I expected some gruelling ordeal but the actual incision and removal of god knows what down there turned out to be mostly pain free, so after applying a sort of bandage type deal down below I was told it was over with and that everything was fine, awkwardly pulling my pants back up I thanked the two ladies for their fine work and slowly shuffled out… Feeling 10 inches tall, there is just no pride to be salvaged from such an experience… None at all. I did the only thing I could think of doing at a moment like that. Place a hand reassuringly close to my now traumatised Balls as I began the journey home.

It’s been about two hours since the operation and the sensation is starting to return, as well as a bloody awful pain.. I had to write this fucking blog standing up. I have my laptop out  on the pool table and all I can do is wander around, sitting is sadly out of the option for the time being… I’m forced to waddle around like some kind of moron who has a bomb in his underwear, things are that delicate.

On a semi-final note, Thank you kindly for taking this journey with me… I hope it was as special for you as it was for me, I can gladly inform you that everything is still in working order down there, I actually feel as though I’ve forged a new stronger relationship with my balls now, the kind of Bond forged in the heat of certain shared death, that’s the golden shiny positive I’m taking from all of this… Shattered dreams production this was not.

Finally, to all you men out there, some advice… Fondle your nuts on a very regular basis and don’t wait if you find anything, go to your doctor damn you, they’ll lop whatever it is right offa you there and then.. If i can do it, you can too.