Testicles

I only write when I am in the mood. Or drunk. Tonight I happen to be both! *wee-hoo!*

So me and Dean went on a cruise last week. That was preceded by a one week visit from Andrea, which was pretty much 7 days of drunken misbehavior. For those of you who are thinking, "Arent you a little OLD for that?"..... bite me. We had a blast.

Anyways....we went on a cruise. Three stops: Jamaica (which entailed a bunch of extremely pushy/poor black women trying to scrape a living in tiny flea market surroundings), Grand Cayman (swimming with stingrays, which was so fucking awesome!!!!!) and Cozumel.

Two days before we arrived in Cozumel, I grew a testicle.

Are you shocked? Think how I felt when I developed what felt like a shot-put with spikes on top of my pubic bone!!!!!

*background info: when Andrea was visiting, she gave me a bad ass bikini wax (after I had consumed at least a half bottle of wine. It hurt like hell, but my binky looked smooth and pretty. This was in preparation for the cruise. I may look like shit in a bikini, but by God, my bikini line was smoother than a babys ass*

Anyways.....something was amiss. I developed a fever, and what felt like a fiery inferno on my panty line. I have never been in so much pain in my life. Go ahead and laugh. If it was you, I would do the same.

One day before arriving in Cozumel, and after it got REALLY bad, I decided to see the "Ship Doctor". I called ahead of time to make sure this was a *real* physician. I got a smart assed reply from a foreign nurse, who kindly informed me that yes, he was a *real* doctor.

I made my way into the bowels of the ship and filled out their stupid little form. 5 minutes later, I am face to face with Dr. Enrique Quesidilla and he asks me if he can "look at it." By this time, I dont care WHO sees it, I just want the fucking thing GONE so I can enjoy the rest of my cruise. I yanked down my granny panties (sexy ones with lace were just too painful to endure) and he said, "Oh....my goodness. I think you need to see a surgeon in Cozumel."

EXCUSE ME?????? See a surgeon in freaking MEXICO????? Are you KIDDING ME?????

I then decided to play my nurse card. I informed him that A: there was no way I was going to see a surgeon in a third world country and that B: I am a nurse, please, just give me some drugs and I will be fine.

$200 dollars later, I had a left ass cheek full of Rochephin and Toradol, and promised that I would stop by in the morning to update them on my condition.

Thankfully, my friend had a big assed bottle of Vicodin, which she so kindly shared with me. I took 2 with a couple of Funships (a wicked rum punch I could not stop drinking). My hoo-hoo still hurt like hell, but I truly didnt give a shit. No wonder everyone in Hollywood is addicted to Vicodin.)

By this time, walking was absolute agony. I had to swing my left leg out at a 90 degree angle to walk. The worst part was the damn kids on the ship. They dont walk, they RUN. And flail their arms about. A little kid came flailing towards me with his arms and legs pistoning and I immediately shielded myself and turned sideways. For a brief moment, I felt in sync with the male race.

If getting hit in the nuts hurts HALF as bad as walking with an abscess on your bikini line does, I pity all the males who have ever been nailed in the balls (except if they deserved it).