Archive for the ‘men’ Category

Oh what a strange day, particularly the start bit. That was certainly unusual. So really it all started on Friday night, but before I get to that its probably best to warn you that this is going to get a bit personal, but that’s ok, I have very little shame anyway.

To get to the point. I found a lump. On Friday night. Way to ruin the evening. I was up for some action and it has to be said, finding “a lump” is a sure fire way to kill the passion. For at least 5 minutes anyway. Really, I’m married, I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of my weekly sex.

20120501-042048.jpg
Needless to say however, the lump got me slightly upset, for the whole weekend. I went from moping around to angry and all the while obsessively fondling my nut-sack. Every cloud eh?

Naturally, I followed my established routine of google-based self-diagnosis. “Fucking hell I’ve got testicular cancer!”, this despite the fact that what I could feel, did not quite match the descriptions or diagrams I’d found on-line, but never mind that, some of the symptoms matched. My bollocks did indeed feel heavy. And there was a lump.
By Sunday I’d practically convinced myself I was doomed, but on the way back from swimming I noticed that my balls were hot, really hot. This was new. Back to Google.

So after a bit of eDoctor and then a bit of Wikipedia I found out a little (a lot) about Epididymitis (google it yourself lazy boy), the symptoms sure did sound very familiar, and the outlook was a lot more appetising for sure, so feeling a bit more relaxed I spent the evening with my scrotum elevated (nice image, I was just lying down) enjoying watching the american version of The Office having decided to visit the doctor first thing in the morning.

Right, so its Monday morning (again) and I’ve already signed up to Bupa, I tell you one thing, I am not going through this shit again with the thought of spending time on a public ward on my mind! Next thing, get a doctors appointment. Done. 10:50 it is. Get your cock and balls out for a stranger time!

Between 9:00am and flashing time I had several reasons to pull out, but one very big reason to go ahead. Hell I didn’t want to get my balls out for a stranger! No way, but then I really didn’t like the downside much either. Time to man up.

I’m in with the doctor, I get straight to the point. I found a lump, I foolishly self-diagnosed, I reviewed my self-diagnosis and with my vast knowledge and experience I’ve come to the conclusion that I am happy with my diagnosis. “Epididimdididididisiss (or something)”

“Epididmytis” – he repeated.

“Yes, thats the one”.

“Ok, come with me” he said. Already reaching for the latex gloves. Hold on cowboy, no need to be so eager I’m thinking!

So he tells me to take my trousers off. I wish my wife was this keen. So I drop my trousers.

“I suppose you want my pants down too” I said.

“umm yes” he replied.

I’m not too sure which one of us is more uncomfortable with this part of the conversation.

He tells me to lay down and relax. I’ve heard this before, relaxing is NOT that easy. Whilst he feels around with my jewels I distract myself by recounting to him my exploits with Wikipedia and why I came to the conclusions I did.

Annoyingly, I already know I’ve been feeling a bit better this morning, but what really grinds my gears is that he confirms this by saying “Ok, I can’t find any signs of a lump, so I don’t believe that you have testicular cancer, can you find where you think the lump was?”

Well, I’ve not touched myself this morning, the constant man-handling of my “wheels” had contributed to my weekend of soreness, so I said “Yes, of course”.

Of course my arse, nothing feeling out of place, I point him to the right area. He confirms it may have just been a cyst, but he will refer to me for ultrasound anyway. Great, another stranger can look at my bollocks.

Whilst this is being explained to me, and I am being told that I did the right thing by coming in to see him, I am laying there, nuts out, cock out thinking two things to myself.

“Why am I just laying here with my knob out?”

and

“When is a good time to get up and put myself away?”

It feels like two minutes have passed, in actual fact, its probably been about 20 seconds. Am I enjoying the air on my man-parts?

I sit up and look down at my genitals. WHAT THE FUCK HAS HAPPENED TO THEM?

“Hey Penis!!! Where have you gone!?!?” (ok, I thought this, I didn’t say it. I hope).

I can’t believe it! It’s retreated into my body. FFS! Seriously. I look at the doctor, I am sure he is smirking. Fucker. So ok, it’s not normally something majestic to behold, but its a typically somewhat more magnificent than this!

Talk about mixed emotions, I mean, the temporarily relief that there is nothing wrong together with knowing that a complete stranger things I have an inverted penis!

Bring on the ultrasound.

Sleeper Service

Posted: September 7, 2011 in Fashion, men, Travel, Work

Travelling cattle class sucks. At £169 for a standard class return from Bristol to London it’s more than a ripoff. What makes it worse is being crammed in sat next to a fifty-something bloke who grunts constantly as if ejaculating whilst listening to his podcast.

Cheering me up however was the pinstripe suit lady who must have accessorised in the dark, pairing bright red shoes (awful) with a bright orange handbag (double-awful).

20:17 – Membury Services, M4 Eastbound. I’ve just entered the men’s toilets, the characteristic smell of piss is turning my guts. I just rejected one cubicle. No seat. I don’t need the seat, I’ve selected a cubicle because I like my privacy. There was also a solitary segment of floating poo.
I moved to the next one, this just had a fallen pube marinating in a puddle of urine. I thought service stations in the UK were improving.
The manager of this one needs sacking.

Something that causes me daily pain is grown men wearing t-shirts with ridiculous slogans on, here is my list of ones that piss me off:

1.

MAKE
SOME
THING
COOL

I mean really… WTF is that about?

2.

THE NEXT
ROUND IS
NOT MINE

Really? Sod off then you spongeing git!

3.

CAMP DAVID

What’s that? Your nickname?

4.

EASY
YOUR
LIFE

I’m starting to get the idea that these must all be foreign t-shirts as none of the slogans make much sense. It must be “cool” to have random English words on your clothes. By the same stylee I have a beach towel that cleverly states “La Plage”, but at least this attempts to hint at it’s intended use.

5. I found one that I do like:

PARTICLE
PHYSICS
GIVES ME
A HADRON

Heh heh. Nice.