I had the cutest little flower girl from hell last night…

CARMEN: Do you have the song “I don’t want to be a chicken, I don’t want to be a duck?”

ME: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

CARMEN: You know. I don’t want to a chicken, I don’t want to be a duck!

ME: That’s just weird. Why would anyone say they they don’t want to be a chicken?

CARMEN: Oh come on.

ME: Wait, do you mean the song where you quack and flap and wiggle?

CARMEN: Yes!!

ME: No I’ve never heard of that song.

CARMEN: What? Yes you have!

ME: Nope. Oh wait, do you mean the song where you quack with your hands like this (quacks hands), flap your arms like this (flaps arms), and wiggle your butt like this (wiggles butt)?

CARMEN: Yes! That’s it!!

ME: Sorry I’ve never heard of that song.

CARMEN: You’re a madman.

Later…

CARMEN: Do you like knock knock jokes.

ME: Uh, sure I guess.

CARMEN: Knock Knock

ME: Who’s there?

CARMEN: Gorilla.

ME: Gorilla who?

CARMEN: Gorilla sandwich!

ME: Um…I don’t get it.

CARMEN: He’s a gorilla…

ME: Ok.

CARMEN: With a gorilla sandwich!

ME: Why would a gorilla eat a gorilla sandwich? That’s gross!

CARMEN: Argh!

Later…

ME: Hey kids I need you to move away from the equipment. If it falls down it could squish you.

CARMEN: I already fell off my bike!

ME: Earlier today?

CARMEN: No.

ME: Well. That was random. Did you hit your head?

CARMEN’S FRIEND: Probably.

ME: It would explain a lot.

Later…

CARMEN: Can we do the limbo?

ME: Oh sorry. Can’t help you there. We don’t have a limbo pole.

CARMEN: Please??

ME: Look, in order to do the limbo, you need something to limbo under, like a broom handle. I don’t have a broom handle. Do you?

CARMEN: No.

ME: Well there you go.

CARMEN: But we gotta do the limbo! Come on, please?

ME: All right, I’ll make you a deal. If you can find a broom handle, we’ll do the limbo.

CARMEN: Ok! (runs off)

ME: That should hold her for a while.

Two minutes later…

BANQUET SERVER: The flower girl wanted you to have this. (hands me a broom handle)

ME: Unbelievable.

Let’s recap my medical milestones this year:

* Unaligned back with nauseating spasms

* Trip to the emergency room for constipation after two failed enemas

* Peptic ulcer (unconfirmed) - symptoms more likely caused by drinking half a bottle of 99 Berries to alleviate nauseating back spasms. Could this maybe have also been the catalyst for the crippling constipation, I wonder?

* Psoriasis of the wiener (or in medical terminology the “tallywacker”)

Which leads me to my two best friends and I am not referring to our new kittens. I most definitely will not be naming them Muffin and Biscuit.

A couple months ago I began experiencing a pulsing pain in the nethers, especially during…certain activities. Not bad, just enough discomfort to know something was not right which in turn was just enough to set off waves of heart racing panic. OH MY GOD I AM GOING TO LOSE MY BALLS, WHY GOD WHY???

I retained enough composure to determine I needed a doctor immediately. But who? My family doctor retired years ago and besides when it comes to your nuts, you don’t fuck around. Well, ok, I guess you do. That is after all what they are there for. But what I am saying is when they are jacked, you need a specialist.

I decided to call my hernia surgeon, Dr. Wolfe. Yeah, the Wolfe Man! He always tells it to me straight and if anyone can fix this he can. I looked him up and dialed his number. A recording stated the number had been disconnected and forwarded to another number. Not encouraging. I dialed the new number. It was a doctor’s office but they had never heard of him.

I have concluded that Dr. Wolfe, who was pushing 70 when last I saw him a couple years ago was now (A) Retired or (B) Dead, either of which would make evaluating my balls difficult. Especially option (A).

Back to the drawing board. I went to the phone book, looked up urologists and picked a doctor that was close with a last name I could pronounce. Sort of. Oseterlinginlager or something like like that. They booked me quickly and the following week I paid a visit.

Dr. “O” was a friendly but awkward and a little odd. I do believe the best word to describe him would be “nerd”. The thick glasses didn’t help either. Being a geek myself, I did not have a problem with this. I firmly believe in a world where nerds and geeks can peacefully co-exist.

I told him my issues and he said the best thing to do was an ultrasound. He had be drop my drawers and lie on my back. Then he pulled out what looked like a corded dildo, wrapped it with a condom and smeared it with jelly.

Would “alarmed” be the right word here? Yes. Definitely alarmed.