2005-01-27 - 10:17 a.m.
Last night I woke up with my right leg itchy as hell. It’s dry skin from the winter air, and I suspect I also am spending way too much time soaking in the hot tub.
I stumbled to the downstairs bathroom, where my wife is known to keep large stockpiles of every medication known to man. If there is ever a disaster, you can come to my house. My wife has enough supplies to keep a small city running for several months.
In the dark, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for a tube of hydrocortisone cream. Finally I found it, and rubbed gobs of it onto my itchy leg.
As I am putting the cream away, I noticed the label on the tube. In bright, feminine script it proudly says: “VAGICAINE”
Shit. I just rubbed half a tube of hootchy cream on my very masculine, manly leg. What the hell do I do now? I sniff my fingers. I look down at my leg. Fuck it. I left it on.
I figured if it’s safe enough to be rubbed into a woman’s most holy of holies, it can’t harm my leg.
I must admit though, since rubbing it on, I have a strange desire to watch the “Lifetime Channel” and I’ve also completely lost my ability to parallel park.
-----------------------------------------------
I had yesterday off from work.
I was supposed to go to the doctors and have my hearing checked.
Why? I dunno. I haven’t a clue. My lovely wife yammers on about stuff and tells me that I never pay attention to her. Whatever. I’ve convinced her that I hang on her every word, and so she has come to the conclusion that I either must be an idiot or hard of hearing.
Not wanting to be labeled as the family moron. I’ve opted to get my hearing checked.
My friends also suspect I may be hard of hearing, as many times they are talking and I haven’t a clue what they are saying. I don’t blame this on my hearing. I blame my lack of interest. I am simply not paying attention to you.
Not paying attention is a skill that I perfected years ago. You see, after 20 years of being immersed in the corporate world, where every day is filled with mindless drivel and inane, mind numbing meetings, I’ve perfected the ability to appear that I am completely and fully paying attention, when in reality I’m wondering what you look like naked.
As you talk, I nod. I take notes and even occasionally, blurt out thought provoking statements taken from a long mental list of generic mumbo-jumbo that I have stored away in the one part of my brain that I have somehow kept from being destroyed by booze, drugs and endless hours of staring at porn.
So as you sit there engaging me in your thought provoking conversation, I’m actually off on a mental vacation, sipping rum from a hollowed out coconut. I may even be thinking about donuts. Who knows? Don’t ask me. As far as my brain is concerned, as my fingers type this out, my mind believes I’m judging the Miss Hawaiian Tropics bikini contest.
It’s kind of like a pre-mature dementia, but I still collect a paycheck and don’t have to be restrained to the bed.
So anyhow, I was supposed to get my hearing checked yesterday. But I never made it to the hearing doctors. The office called me about 8:30 to cancel the appointment because of the snow storm.
“Hello? This is the Hearing Doctors Office. We need to cancel your appointment today.”
“WHAT? I can’t hear you. Speak up!” I playfully answer.
“It’s the doctor’s office” The cute voice on the other end slowly and deliberately repeats. “We’re calling about your hearing”
”What am I wearing?!?! What kind of phone call is this?!?!?”
“No sir. It’s the Doctors.” The young voice on the other end replies. She senses I am playing. “We need to cancel your appointment. We are running late.”
“You want me to masturbate? Who is this? How much is this gonna cost??”
After a few moments of driving the poor receptionist nuts, we re-schedule my appointment for next week. Which has me nervous. Once my hearing has been proven to be fine, I’ll need to come up with another reason why I’m not paying attention.
Anyhow, I can’t worry about that now. I’m about to announce the winner of the Miss Hawaiian Tropics contest.
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