Once upon a time, I had small kids who would climb into bed with me in the middle of the night when they had bad dreams.  One night my one daughter climbed into bed, and apparently had a dream that she was a ninja putting out a cigarette, and she crotch kicked me then mushed my giblets while asleep.  I tell you this to explain that about a week later, I went to take a piss, and it felt like I had weasels trying to climb upstream against the flow of lava that was pouring out of my penis.  It was, to date, the most painful thing I’ve ever felt.  

SO needless to say, I went to the doctors, and they gave me a prescription of some sort of antibiotic, and YAHOO I felt better…. then about 2 or 3 days after the antibiotics were gone, I went to take a pee, and my butthole puckered as it felt like I was pissing sand spurs and napalm.  I started thinking maybe it was a kidney stone or something… Now I know I am a man, but I have two kids, and this was far more painful than when they were born.

So back to the doctor I go, he explains how different issues respond differently to different drugs, so he gives me a new prescription, and WOO HOO I feel great, I no longer cry every time I have to pee.   Then a few days after I’m done, I’m at Gulf World in Panama City Beach, Florida and go to take a leak and YEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW  it’s the worst pain yet.  I look down, move my massive schlong out of the way, and see that it looks like I peed Tabasco Sauce.   Oh man, this ain’t good.   So back to my doctor I go, and they refer me to the urologist.

No I’m not going to publish his name, but it was pronounced Bi-Swinger… Which I thought MAYBE with a name like that you have a good sense of humor.  But I would soon find out that we didn’t have the same sense of humor.  So he sits me down, and I’m telling him of my symptoms and he says “Let me check to see if it’s in your prostate”.  Suddenly, most of my innards are in my throat.   So here’s where I make things super awkward.

“Okay, turn around, I’m going to try to milk your prostate” (hands me a microscope slide “When you feel something come out, touch this to the end of your penis”

“Milk my prostate?  That’s a real thing?  I thought that was just something in the movies” (I forgot the name of the movie Road Trip)… “Dang it what was that movie called, you know… ‘one finger or two?”

“Umm I don’t think you and I watch the same kind of movies” *Sticks his finger in my butthole*

So now not only do I have a doctor trying to find his car keys in my butthole, but he’s thinking I watch porn of men fingerbanging each other, AND I COULDN’T EXPLAIN THAT IT WAS FROM A MAINSTREAM COMEDY… FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.   As he’s digging around my prostate he says “Does any of this hurt?” and I said “Well it’s certainly not comfortable”… again, my humor missed the target while getting a finger banging.    I gotta tell ya, I never wanted to have a man make me cum as bad as I did then, get this shit over with…. finally I get this slide dabbed and he takes it away and says “There’s tissues to clean yourself up, I’ll be right back”

Now me being so fucking dumb, I was like “I didn’t even make a mess, he wasn’t THAT good”… so I take a tissue, crumple it up, toss it in the trash so he wouldn’t think I was weird.  He comes back in, tells me I have prostatitis, and said “I’m basically going to give you the nuclear bomb of all antibiotics”, wrote me a prescription and sent me out to pay.

I’m standing at the counter, and the lady working there was so nice, and a New Jersey native, so we got talking about home.  Then suddenly I thought “OH, THAT was what the tissue was for”…. you know why?  Because suddenly I felt some KY Jelly trickle out of my ass.  So I try not to make any weird faces as we talk, when suddenly…. I don’t know if it was something I ate… or if it’s because I just had my pooper plunged… but I had this urgent need to shit.  AND THIS SWEET :LADY WOULD NOT SHUT HER FUCKING MOUTH ABOUT NEW JERSEY PIZZA.   So I’m clenching my ass as I’m prairie dogging a gallon of latex paint mixed with dry dog food kibble, when finally she says “Oh here’s your total”.. I pay and say as calmly as I can “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHERE IS THE CLOSEST SHITTER?” or something like that.   She pointed it out and I booked it, and barely made it before I blew mud  like nobody’s business… but I’m sure it was the whole waiting room’s business, there’s now way they didn’t hear my asshole and my mouth screaming at the same time.

But the good news is,   That prescription fixed the whole problem.