Sunday, June 05, 2005

some thoughts on the world bank

OK, the tits were awful. Really awful-- stretch-marky orang-utan style with big dark nipples the size of saucers. And you know how when a nipple is really big, the details of the areolae somehow get bigger, too-- like the weird hair follicles and ridges and shit all turn enormous, just like a normal nipple under a magnifying glass. And it was a weird psychological barrier. I had to pretend like I was paying attention to them even though it was clear that she didn't really like it, because she knew they were disgusting... but I couldn't acknowledge that I found them disgusting by ignoring them, and couldn't acknowledge that I obviously knew she knew, etc. Like how because I'm a guilt-ridden racist I always smile at black people on the bus even though I know they want to beat me, and they smile back.

I'm sure it's the same way with my nuts. My nuts are fucking appalling. I think nuts are appalling in general but mine in particular are just atrocious. Firstly because my scrotum for some reason is in fucking perma-distend mode at all times, as discussed, so that it's always maximally flushed and veiny and its sleeping-bag-sized surface area makes my penis look even more puny in comparison, like the earth next to the sun. Secondly, and this is where my nuts are truly unique-- there are two things wrong with my left nut that make it ridiculously huge, about twice the size of a normal one:

1) The cyst. When I was thirteen years old-- remember how in health class they would give out those cards to hang in the shower with a girl on one side and a boy on the other, how you were supposed to feel yourself for cancerous lumps? Wait until your balls are hanging good and low from the heat and then feel each one thoroughly-- if you have a tumor you'll feel a hard mass the size of a pea... One day I decided to try it and lo and behold there's a mass on there the size of a fucking cherry. I assumed I was going to die. I couldn't tell my mother what was going on because I knew I only had a few weeks to go and if she knew it would break her heart, and ruin our last time together. So I suffered quietly. After about a month, though, I figured I might be wrong and brought it up at the dinner table, ended up at the urologist who after squeezing them intensely between his thumb and forefinger said the cyst was fine but that I also had what was called a varicoseal, which brings us to :

2) The vein. A varicoseal I guess is a vein that lets blood sit in your nuts too long, making them hot. Because your nuts produce sperm at below body temperature it can cause infertility later in life, so to fix it they snip the vein up by your groin. They opened up a little slit up there-- there's still a big frankenstein staple-scar on my pubis, by the way-- snipped the vein, and it kind of snapped back down into my nutsack-- and they left the fucking vein in there. Instead of taking two seconds to snip it at the other end too and just take it out. So behind the nut now there's this hellish elaborately-coiled clump of hardened H.R.-Geiger-ish tubing roughly equal in size to the nut itself, and the distended semitranslucent sac provides only the thinnest of membranes to cover it, so that these hideous aberrations are visible in freakishly detailed relief and even color. The vein is periwinkle blue, for instance. The cyst, which is still there untouched, is eggshell.

And girls always want to suck on them. And I can tell they're doing the same thing I talked about because they spend more time on the left nut, and I always have to humor them, like I really like it, when in fact the cyst hurts and the whole experience is really quite painful. But to say something would draw attention to the fact that I know that she knows it's disgusting, which wouldn't bother me so much but would be horribly embarassing for her, etc.

13 Comments:

Blogger cathy no said...

omg i totally understand cuz when i was 13 yrs old, i thought i had breast cancer even though i didn't even have breasts, not that i really do now but u know what i mean. i was at that awkward age so i was too embarrassed to tell my parents so i suffered in silence too and just waited until i would drop dead and they'd find out. that fear passed after a while when i thought i had a brain tumor. that was awful cuz i suffered in silence for 2 months & i had these really bad psychosomatic headaches in the back of my head after reading a list of brain cancer symptoms in a gigantic medical book.

6:15 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

I thought I had toxic mold syndrome once. (Long story but in sum I lived in an old apartment and suddenly I was passing out a lot and forgetting things and Montell Williams had a show on it so I got really paranoid. My doc laughed when I suggested this) Oh and at CMU I was misdiagnosed for having ovarian cancer too. That was a scare and a half.

4:16 AM  
Blogger cathy no said...

another time i thought i had diabetes cuz the #1 symptom is having to pee every minute so i freaked out cuz i was psychosomatically pee'ing every minute and then i remember running over to barnes 'n nobles to quickly read a diabetes medical book while my 2 friends were in the corner skimming trashy fiction. i was terrified cuz when you have a certain type of diabetes, you have to get your leg amputated sometimes. my life flashed before my almond shaped asian eyes. julie & tim, how are you doing? i wish i could sit at phi and have bourbon 'n dietcoke with yinz & talk more about this shit.

5:52 PM  
Blogger cathy no said...

omg i just re-read "you have to get your leg amputated sometimes". i'm retarded.

5:54 PM  
Blogger cathy no said...

are we stealing tim's spotlight? i'm sorry tim.

5:54 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

Aww, fuck-- I wish we could sit at PHI and have a bourbon and coke, too. That made me really nostalgic.

I like hosting the comments slumber party. I wish you guys would do it even more.

In case anyone gives a shit: PHI = The Panther Hollow Inn, a seedy college bar near where we all went to school. They used to have some 3 dollar pitcher night on Thursdays, or some shit like that. Everybody would go and get real drunk. It was cool because you knew everyone... our college was the saddest party scene in the goddamn world, like living in fucking Saudi Arabia, but every single person who *did* party would go to this bar. Their bathroom had one toilet that always looked like someone had sprayed a can of Dinty Moore beef stew in there-- in order to do lines you would have to have a "guard" with you to shoulder the door shut as frat boys literally tried to force their way in. Then on your way out you knew that they would think it was *you* that had taken that shit.

10:46 PM  
Blogger Julie said...

Its weird but I vividly remember sitting on the toilet at PHI once thinking, "I'm bloody drunk. You've got to cherish these moments Julie. Nothing beats being drunk on the toilet at PHI staring at blurred white trash yinzer grafiti knowing that your best friends in the world are all downstairs waiting for your return."

3:05 AM  
Blogger cathy no said...

lmfao @ comments slumber party

12:46 AM  
Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

I don't get it. What the hell does this post have to do with the World Bank? Help.

12:01 AM  
Blogger Julie said...

Its a metaphor for his loins, I think.

8:02 PM  
Blogger Mr. Richard Lee said...

Oh, I get it. A repository of corrupt, old, self-serving, shriveled-up individuals who continue to attempt to conquer and influence the world through devious and covert means. Understood.

11:07 PM  
Blogger vulkoqq said...

actually i just thought it would be funny since i talk about my cock, nuts, and ass so much-- i thought i would "fake out" like i was going to opine on some sophisticated topic and then just talk about my nuts again.

5:51 AM  
Blogger iris of the dead said...

This post and these comments have really hit me at the right time. Just this week I googled 7 different diseases and realized I have all of them. I just started getting laid on a regular basis too, so I'm sure I will be punished for my sins through VD. Furthermore, my anxiety attacks have become so intense, the other night I stayed up all evening cleaning, thinking my apartment was infested. After I stripped the bed, throughout the pillows, vaccumed the rug, aand scrubbed the bathroom tile, and was about to burn all my clothes, I paused to google various insects and common infestations. It turns out every bug I looked up is living here with me too. In a frenzied IM chat, my new boyfriend asked "so how are you?" and I told him great but for the VD, the bugs, and what is this? heat rash? flesh eating bacteria? I asked him how he was feeling, doing a little subtle investigation, wondering if we were showing any matching symptoms. My vagueries put him on guard. "What do you mean by that?" he asked. Finally I put it bluntly. I either got VD from you or the Egyption Beetles under my bed.

7:24 AM  

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