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5:47 a.m. - 2004-01-20


Hey ya.

So yesterday was my 42nd birthday. Many of you had the day off to celebrate my birthday. I hope you did it wisely and refrained from shoving fireworks up your butt for kicks.

It was quite possibly the most non-eventful birthday I've ever had, which is cool. I don't like a big deal made about my birthday like I did when I was ... ohhhh ... four.

Keep in mind, it's also my wife's birthday too.

Neither one of us got each other cards, gifts, cakes ... not even birthday sex.

That's when you know you're old. No birthday sex. Especially when it's between two people both celebrating their birthdays.

I did manage to get a gift for myself in the checkout lane of Walmart on Saturday night.

One of those Micro Touch Hair Remover Things that you see on TV.

You know the one.

The thing that looks like a fancy pen that you shove up your nose to trim your nostril hair.

Color me curious.

I had to know how you could shove something sharp and rotating up your nose without slicing your nostrils up like a cheese grater.

I'm still not exactly sure how it does it.

But it does it.

Now, I'm not saying that I have a small jungle of unmanageable nostril hair gushing out of my nose.

I had a few stray hairs.

Now ... I don't.

So next I decided to groom the old eyebrows.

I'm no Andy Rooney.

I don't look like Macy Gray has hitched a ride on my forehead.

But I could use a touch-up, y'know?

There's a little attachment that you put on this thing to groom your eyebrows.

Afterwards, I was pretty impressed with my work. Each hair was the exact same length as the next. Everything was moving in the right direction.

I looked damned sexy.

Then Susie decides to step in.

"Let me touch it up just a bit," she says.

Hindsight being 20/20, I should have said "Touch your own damned eyebrows up."

But I didn't.

Now I look like a cross between Vanilla Ice in his heyday and Scarface.

I've got geometric designs in my eyebrows, courtesy of my wife and her shaky hands.

I could teach algebra using my eyebrows as a blackboard.

You're right. That made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Today's my annual checkup at the doctor's office.

I know I'm in for a world of bad news.

I could get a clean bill of health and still have a bad visit.

Because in two and a half hours, I'm going to have a guy's finger up my ass for what will seem like hours.

I do not like the finger up the ass. Never have. Never will.

I don't like putting my finger in other people's asses and I don't want one in mine.

If it were just a quick *POP* ... an in and then an out in less than a second, I might ... MIGHT be able to do it.

But when they start spelunking in there ... searching for hidden treasure and polyps ... I get a bit antsy.

And trying to find the right thing to say while you're getting probed in the ass isn't a cakewalk either.

So I've been thinking ahead.

I've come up with a few things to say that won't let the conversation between myself and my doctor dwindle while he's doing this.


1) "A little to the left ... right...right...therrrre. Yeahhh. Right there."

2) "Work it baby...WORK IT!"

3) "Do you do kids' birthday parties?"

4) "Oh God. I shouldn't have had so many sausage patties for breakfast."

5) "So now I know how the sick kids who go to the Neverland Ranch feel."

6) "Dude, you're tickling my lungs."

7) "I bet you're a hellcat in the sack."

8) "Would you mind if I ... you know ... masturbated right now?"

9) "C'mon soldier ... you got anything bigger back there?"

10) (Throw him a $5)"Here's your tip. Now go clean yourself up, honey."

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That Sinking Feeling - 6:09 a.m. , 2008-10-28

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