last night…
after a few minutes of disarming small talk about vacation plans and bio-diesel, my pcp stuck his finger up my ass, “massaged my prostate” (his words, not mine) and wrote me a prescription.
a few hours later, after three solid innings of 0-0 ball, peabody took a couple of walks, capitalized on two errors and beat our asses 2-0.
as a result, i am sore. the end.
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6 comments:
I like Fletch's description best, whereby the doctor tells you to bend over and then begins to push you around the room with his finger.
I'm reminded of that scene in "Fletch" (the movie) "Sure you got the whole fist up there Doc?" This was a much needed laugh for a Thursday morning.
On a semi-related note:
Upon my 30th B-day (quite a while ago) I was informed that "the asshole is the first thing to go".
Woo-hoo.
What's the first thing to go on a girl, I wonder. I don't know, that's why I'm asking.
as long as the doctor doesn't ask "was it as good for you as it was for me?" afterwards, you're ok.
in the spirit of invasive procedures, a taunt follows...
"I'm just thinking field the ball, and my reaction was up, and in retrospect I wish my reaction was down," Rolen said. "I don't have an excuse for a ball that goes between your legs in the ninth inning."
Fortunately, it was not a 1986 situation...
www.sports.yahoo.com/mlb/recap;_ylt=ArfTUk3.Zvc12ziirhwXfWoRvLYF?gid=260602124
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