Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Fucking time

It flies by too fast.

Working on a project from home is an entirely new experience and I am constantly amazed at how different life can be and how much joy one might find in such adventure.
My working day has shifted and now I start about 10-11 am and work through until midnight and then spend hour or 2 in front of TV winding down and relaxing.
It is awesome.
However it is not without its dangers.
Another night I was lying on the couch in front of the TV trying to simultaneously watch a Sex shop infomercial and a documentary on another channel.
Sex Shop infomercial was trying to sell some sort of vaginal balls and remote operated dildos.
Vaginal balls are apparently great for a bladder control, a fact reinforced by a number of women all claiming that since they have been inserting three string connected balls into their thingies, they stopped wetting their pants- a fact not missed by me as I have made a mental note that, if I ever start wetting my pants I will give those balls a go. Still beats adult diapers.
In regards to the remote operated dildo, it was too prancy and festive, with shiny lights going off and doing some sort of a hula dance on a counter top as they were displaying its capabilities to the potential customers. In regards to its size I felt comfortable and reassured, but I am not convinced my penis can do all those moves, like swirl around, buzz and light itself from the inside.Eh. Well, second program I was watching at the same time was a documentary about this private agency in Rio De Janeiro and a bunch of girl detectives who were hired to prove that some businessman's son and heir was a coke addict.
That did not take them fucking long. As soon as one of the girls hit on him, he took her in his penthouse and did like five lines of coke in one go right in front of her camera. I lost interest after that, but the girls kept on getting together with him, because, I presume, they needed more evidence- just because someone pulls half a kilo bag of cocaine from their pocket and snorts half of it in one go, does not necessarily mean he's an addict.
But that is not the point to my story.While watching those shows, with the rest of my family deep asleep, I felt an itch in my left ear.
It was not that bad, but I was bored and I decided to get me some cotton swabs and take care of it.
However, my wife has this horrible habit of hiding stuff around the house from me, including my underwear and socks.
I looked at all the usual spaces but I could not find the fucking swabs, I would not dare to wake up my wife to ask, so I decided to improvise.
Much like MacGyver, I got me some paper and some cotton balls I have found on my swab hunt.
I rolled paper into a toothpick shape and rolled a piece of cotton on its end. Satisfied with my improvisation skills, I proceeded to pick my ear scratching the itch in the process.However, things got wrong.
When I pulled the paper pick out of my ear (which by the way lacked structural strength necessary to perform the intended job) little cotton ball was nowhere to be seen.
Long story short, many unsuccessful attempts to get it out of my ear later, I got enough balls to wake up my wife and asked her to get the little bastard out of my ear. In her half awake state, she decided that the best tool for the job would be a pair of tweezers she uses to pluck her eyebrows or whatever else.
Well, five minutes later little fuckers proved what they are good for. She managed to pluck all the fucking hair out of my ear, but the cotton ball remained elusive.
Then she used a "H" word. She said I should go to the Hospital to get it removed, as it could be dangerous to wait until the morning.That is when I started to freak out. Thought of hospital made me break at least three sweats, as it brought the memories of my last time there ( also with an ear problem, but not related to a cotton swab).
Anyhow, Shortening story again, I went to the bathroom, found one of those little brush toothpicks made to brush between your teeth, shoved it in my ear and managed to hook and pull the little cotton ball out.
Fuck, that was a relief!
Well, this story went for too long, moral here being that if you have a bladder leakage, you can fix it with a set of vaginal balls.I guess.
And now the drawing for this time.
It is a birthday card commission, for the time invested, it turned out OK I guess.
Well, cheers to all until the next time,