Tonight, we continue our occasional series "TMI Theatre." The scene opens in Doctor Mark's office:
mrp: Would you hurry up. What are you, a baggage handler?
drmark: I don't know why you make such a big deal about this. You're a gay man.
mrp: So, you have patients who enjoy this? That's even creepier.
drmark: Shut. Up. And by the way, you win the prize for this week's largest prostate.
Proving that snappy patter is worthless when you're standing bent over an examination table with your pants around your ankles and the good doctor's finger up your butt.
I believe it's traditional to describe ones prostate at this point in terms of the fruit kingdom, typically a grapefruit or a watermelon. I prefer to think of mine as a guava. Stupid thing has never done anything for me except lead me into a series of wacky misadventures and now it demands to be taken for several walks every night out of my cozy bed and into the much less cozy toilet.
Also, you know that corn syrup ad? Yes, you do, it's all over the Overweight Housewives Channel. It's the one where two soccer moms are preparing to slurp down a gallon or two of some sludge based soda and one meekly advances some polite concern about consuming corn syrup as part of their bacchanal. "You know what 'they' say...." she mewls.
The other one turns on her and spits out, in the most condescending tone possible, a diatribe justifying the glop, including the fabulous rejoinder "Corn syrup is all natural." So the mousy one is put in her place, corn syrup reigns and they go off to explore their new-budding lesbian love, or whatever.
Just once, I want to see the mousy one shriek "Get you, Mary. Don't talk to me in that supercilious tone of voice, you slagheap. And by the way, arsenic, strychnine and bird droppings are all natural, too, but I don't plan on consuming them either." And then she would clock her, right beneath her smugly raised eye brow, knocking her to ground where she would kick her and smash her and pulverize her. Did I take my meds this morning?
Houseboy Seamus Feelpatrick assures us he never eats corn syrup.
We believe him.
my "cinderella organ" does much the same to me as well. i'm only grateful...so grateful that i've lived long enough to experience it.
ReplyDeleteAmen to that Norma.
ReplyDeletePeenee THANK GOD YOU'RE BACK!!!
Girls, girls, girls, I know, the hymn of the middle aged "At least I'm not DEAD..." Or full of corn syrup.
ReplyDeleteWelcome back... you were missed.
ReplyDeleteI like to think of my love button as a corn syrup covered strawberry.
I always send flowers to my M.D. after my special exam.
I dream of a day when the prostate dispenses corn syrup.
ReplyDeleteHow lovely would that be?
Well that's put me off guavas.
ReplyDeleteAm I the only one concerned about houseboy's rather peculiar lower abdomen???
ReplyDeleteI have often thought of your prostate as a guava.
ReplyDeleteWell, Its Mr's P's prostate and if he wants to think of it as a guava that's his affair. Does that mean all Dr. Mark's other patients have wee little grape prostates? Or raspberries, Blueberries, and dingleberries?
ReplyDelete(BTW, Miss J is in the midst of ungodly womancramps. Right now, he wishes she had a prostate instead of her uter-thing.)
@Miss Janey: Mistress MJ sympathizes as she gets SATANIC CRAMPS FROM HELL.
ReplyDeleteOne must massage the prostate lest you get prostatitis. A painful condition where you can’t stop peeing. I know...My doctor said but in your case will call it prostatutis!
ReplyDeleteI thought you would enjoy this, "And it’s made from real corn syrup."
HAR! I love your version of the 'corn syrup' commercial though I'd prefer something laced with a bit more profanity...
ReplyDelete