Tuesday, September 9, 2014


Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Why do I wait some days to write a post?

My senses are usually beaten out of me just before noon. Then, I sink towards the sunset like a halfwit shipwrecked castaway.

A stepped upon jelly donut, plunging fast. I am amazed that nobody checks my ears for liquid damage around midday. 

Though, in truth, some charm does return upon leaving work for the day. It must be the same effect that makes one only feel truly ill when they are trapped at work. 

Once I go home for the day then I always magically recover a bit. It is what I learned in high school.

Never tell the nurse you have a fever, avoid the easily testable. 

Do not tempt a skeptic. They have tools to use against you.

It's always just a headache, never a concussion. 

A stomach ache, even though your bottom plug may still hold for a bit. Best to head home where there is good, reliable plumbing and an available bike helmet to protect from an inadvertent couch fall.

If it's possible to get the nurse to inspect your balls before releasing you then that is often preferable and nice, depending.

Just tell her they're sore and quite tender to the touch, to have a look, that she might understand them better.