Thursday, November 02, 2006

Grand Entry

I would like to address one particular side affect of getting old(er).
There comes a time in life when we, and when I say “we” I mean us guys, are advised to relinquish a measure of self-respect in the interest of health management. I’m talking about the rubber-gloved finger of shame. If you are in your thirties or younger, all I can say is, laugh it up funny boy, your time is coming. If there is any advice that I have to offer, it is this. When researching your physician database, choose a female urologist no more than four feet, seven inches in height. In this way, you can be reasonably confident that the finger utilized to plunder your precious rosebud will be no thicker than a McDonald’s french-fry.

Flashback – Alone in a urologist’s examination room, I am trying to make myself comfortable. My legs dangle from the edge of a tall narrow table. A thin sheet of noisy paper separates my bare rump from a cold, and distressingly stained, brown vinyl tabletop. There are lingering illusions as to my fate. Though I have anticipated this event for many years, the rumor mill has been strangely silent on the details. I hear a tapping on the door, the portal swings wide to reveal a giant of man in a white lab coat. The obvious correlation between body bulk and finger size has not yet registered. Moving quickly for a man of his dimensions, his arms fly about in random patterns. His hands simulate pathways and offer depictions of the organ of primary interest, all the while dropping the “r” word and the “p” bomb with none of the reverence that these most private of body parts deserve.

It was in the course of these wild gesticulations that the true scope of my pending violation was revealed. The good doctor had fingers the size of delicatessen baloneys. Overgrown patches of thick black finger-hair thinned somewhat at the knuckles to reveal deeply wrinkled knobs that could easily pass for malformed coconuts. The xx-large latex glove, stretched to the breaking point, only accentuated the immensity of his misshapen digits. Beneath the straining rubber, trapped mattes of coarse hair evoked the appearance of overstuffed laundry bags. By now, you could not have driven a nail up my ass with a ten-pound hammer.

Doctor DeathFinger is still talking but I am no longer paying attention to his rehearsed drone. His hand is on my shoulder as he guides me into position. I catch a glimmer in my peripheral vision; it is the jelly-like goo that will thwart any attempt to repel the invasion. His voice fades into the sound of blood rushing past my eardrums. The good doctor’s suggestion that I relax and just let it happen has fallen on deaf ears. The conundrum of the eternal struggle between the unstoppable force and the immovable object will be resolved in short order.

My decision to reschedule the appointment to a later decade came too late. As cold gel made contact with a region unaccustomed to such an assault, my deflating lungs reconfigured the phrase “never mind” into nevvaaaarrruuugggghhhhh! Doctor Torpedo apparently misread my grunting admonition as an expression of joy and proceeded to push my liver aside in what felt like an enthusiastic rush towards an unscheduled dental exam.

In a most unfortunate turn of events, Doctor BaloneyFinger decided that something didn’t feel quite right. I was ill prepared for most of what had happened up to that point. Now it appeared that my new best friend was pulling up a chair and getting comfortable. To make matters worse, he was engaging me in conversation more appropriate for a lazy afternoon fishing expedition.

How do you answer the question, “do you like sports” when there is a finger the size of a small monkey up your keester? I managed to blurt out an unconvincing “uuhhhharrrrrr.” Having reached a point where I could be humiliated no further, Doctor MonkeyFinger grew bored with my innards and withdrew. I was directed towards a box of flimsy tissues, each roughly the size of a dollar bill, and was given gratuitous instructions to clean myself “if I desired to do so” prior to leaving the room, as if I would choose to leave that place with slippery butt cheeks. He was nice enough to offer a conciliatory statement before departing, his uninspired exit in glaring contrast to the fanfare that accompanied his grand entry. I emptied the entire box of tissues in a futile attempt to wipe away the shame.

That was a few years ago and what a difference time makes. My new female urologist weighs in at maybe 90 pounds soaking wet and she has fingers like spaghetti noodles. On my last visit, I was halfway through an article in National Geographic before I noticed that she was done and heading out the door to her next appointment. Live and learn.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know how you feel, when I had my first child the doctors decided to induce labour. As the stocky doc introduced himself and broke out the gel, as he 'apllied' it for the 20 seconds required he started speaking to me about the history of grecco roman wrestling (he spied the mick foley bio on my bed locker) surreal, now after the birth of my second baby these dignity stripping moments (and believe me with childbirth you dont have enough fingers and toes to count them on) Im as blaise about them. But when it first happened I needed a bucket of sugary tea for the shock..

4:37 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Lae said...

Hi there! Welcome to my new blog, lets exchange links let me know, if u are agree, thanks :)

7:19 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Serena said...

hehehe.. i love the pure horror in your voice as you relive this experience. nice build up. >:)

sorry you had your anal cherry popped by the biggest, hairiest, brute of a gorilla ever. (insert evil laughter)


7:32 AM, November 02, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


I'm SO glad I wasn't born with boy-parts. Of course, us gals have our own doctor-enduced-trials that we have to go through... *sigh*

7:47 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Cheesy said...

OMG Amazing imagery!! Loved the photos you sorry but your horror induced HUGE grins!

7:59 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Jill said...

I really WANT to be sympathetic here, but am having hard time. We ladies are violated annually from the beginning of our adult lives. We're subjected to all manner of cold metal instruments and the ever-present "spotlight" so the doctor can get a better view. Somehow a gloved finger just doesn't seem that bad.

8:05 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Anne said...

Awww.... Poor Slaghammer. Now you have some idea what women experience. *shudder* Those doctors should get a taste of their own medicine and see how they like it. Or maybe they should just be pelted with hockey puck biscuits!

8:28 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Judith, I break out in a cold sweat when I consider the miseries inflicted on the females of our species. In that respect, I do feel a bit guilty complaining in the presence of women. However, I suffered at the hand of Doctor ReamFinger and nobody can take that away from me. ;-)

Hello Lae, give me a chance to read you blog and I’ll get back to you on that.

Hey Serena, I appreciate your sympathy and understanding. You see, getting popped is one thing, getting popped by Doctor PostHoleDigger is something else altogether. Hey! Wait a minute; the evil laughter causes me to doubt your sincerity, grumble.

Hi Choochoo, I’m glad there’s somebody out there that almost understands.

Hi Cheesy, had I known the experience would someday be shared with the world, I might have photo-documented the actual event. Maybe not.

Jilly, don’t you understand? By the hand of Zeus, I am a man! We are not supposed to be violated in this way! I’m only partly kidding. I know it seems trivial from the perspective of the horrors that women endure on a much more regular basis. But imagine if women didn’t have babies, pap smears, etc. You wake up one morning sometime after your fortieth birthday and BOOM! Knobby finger up the keester without so much as “hi, how ya doin.” Now pile on the cultural baggage of upholding the manly man creed, “nobody touches my thing unless I’m really drunk and she promises not to tell my buddies.” Shovel up a heaping helping of fragile male ego and a smidgen of overblown sense of self-importance. Yeah, now you agree with me, don’t you?

Hi Anne, I shudder to think of wasting a perfectly good biscuit on Doctor Spelunker.

11:50 AM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger skinnylittleblonde said...

LOL...too funny! But not only do women have to be 'violated' from the beginning of maturity on, but they too, must have violation #2 with age.
Your words of wisdom are not falling on deaf ears here!
btw~ I wonder why they can't just use the small plunger type deal like the ones used on dogs? Maybe veterinarians are just more humane than proctologist...

12:04 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Wait a minute Skinny, plungers? I envision Doctor RotoRooter working me over like a plugged up toilet. I can’t even begin to choose the lesser of the evils.

12:35 PM, November 02, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That post was too funny. The comments were fun to read too.

Great blog!

1:06 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Anne said...

Why not a plunger? They're trying to feel for unusual growths, swelling, make sure all your giblets are where they should be.

The guy who delivered my 2nd son was called Dr. Elbow, because I once thought I saw his elbow disappear in there... My son was born wearing the doctor's watch! :D

2:30 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Stucco said...

Hiya Slag, As usual, a damned fine post. I don't know why, but my doc decided to start this wen I was in my early 30's. I'd bitch and moan, but having a friend dying of prostate cancer sorta makes me shut up. Having just moved, I hafta find a new doc, but I don't see where they are sorted by height/weight. Maybe I should just avoid any doc nicnamed "pan hands" or Anne's "Dr. Elbow"- but then hey- free watch (a la Pulp Fiction).

I wanna know more about that lubricant, and why there's no wiping it off. I leave these doctor visits feeling like I'm walking funny, and that my farts might whistle.

3:50 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Kara said...

You know, I don't think we have to do that thing where we share know?

5:01 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger hammer said...

Woah. That scares the hell out of me. I think somebody told me of an alternative blood test for prostate problems that just came out.

I have enough pain passing block buster buffet bombs I'm not sure Mr Summer sausage fingers sounds like my cup of tea.

5:38 PM, November 02, 2006  
Anonymous Rachel said...

I'd take a visit to the gyno anyday before letting dr bologna fingers anywhere near me!! I'd have a million babies-- I'm totaly sympathetic for ya on this one!!

10:00 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger lastonehere said...

Just wait until they find something “hey, what is that I never felt that before I think we need to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. Make an appointment with the receptionist, the sooner the better, have a great day”

The thought that the doc is not quite sure what he felt is not bad.
The thought of the humiliation of having a room full of people so interested in shoving a camera in you @$$, this also is not bad.
Having to drink Fleet fosfosoda, or whatever you call that nasty ass crap they make you drink to CLEANSE your insides. Hell, but not the worse part.
The most uncomfortable part of the situation is that I was told not to drink anything 24 hours before the procedure. Uncomfortable, you have no idea. I would have let them drive a gray hound bus filled with a professional camera crew up my @$$ for a glass of water.

11:02 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger Cheesy said...

Oh ya baby!! A photo blog!!
I'd pay money to see that! hehehe

11:18 PM, November 02, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Tisha, thanks for dropping by. Your Halloween Trivia post was also an excellent read.

Anne, my giblets are verified, certified, and rectified. Even so, I will consider your plunger scheme if it will spare me even one more “digital” exam.

Stucco, I too have lost loved ones to treatable diseases. That is what drove me to the dreaded urologist in the first place and what keeps me going back. It is a sad fact of life. In any case, the two best methods for gauging the finger size of your prospective doctor are: 1. Check out the mug shot on their website if they have one. This is not perfect but you can definitely weed out the ex-football players and sideshow giants. 2. Call the nurses station at your healthcare facility of choice and ask the nurse. If you ask which doctor is the best, they will not say for obvious reasons. If you tell them that you have a physiological reason for needing to finger sizes, they will likely not hang up on you.
The lubricant? I think it is the same material wheel bearings are packed with.

Kara, why not? I feel like I can trust you guys with all of my most embarrassing secrets, hence the elaborate disguise and hokey profile.

Hammer, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but the blood test is inaccurate, too many false positives and false negatives. Leading physicians agree, it’s the finger up the poop shoot for you my friend. Who knows, maybe it will loosen things up a bit and make your buffet adventures less traumatic.

Rachel, thank you for understanding my pain. By the way, you have won today’s spelling bee for nailing “bologna” down with a ten-pound baloney hammer. However, you have to admit that baloney is a lot more fun than bologna.

Lastonehere, regarding my gastrointestinal tract, there is no twist or turn left unexplored by every conceivable mechanical contraption devised by the Medical Industrial Complex. I know the horrors of Fleet as well as the worst of those cursed concoctions, an outrageously misnamed product called “GoLytely.” It is a gallon jug of thermonuclear hell. The name is supposed to be a lighthearted play on words. I judge it not funny at all.

Cheesy, they do carry video cams into birthing rooms. I wonder if they would let Jilly document my next ordeal for posterity.

1:05 AM, November 03, 2006  
Blogger Bazza said...

You relate that story as if it happened yesterday. Obviously that doctor made a deep immpression on you. A female urologist?: I am given to understand there are guys willing to pay good money for that kind of service even when there is no medical imperative!

2:27 PM, November 03, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You had me spewing tea all over my desk with this one. How'm I supposed to explain that to my boss?

3:43 PM, November 03, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lord, this was funny. I'm 51 years old, and a full year overdue to have my doc's chubby old forefinger shoved up there again.

Yeah, what's with the "wipe yourself if you want to"? LIke I want to walk around with a monstrous wedge of jelly up my crack.

3:52 PM, November 03, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Yes Bazza, the impression was very, very deep, uuhg. I’ve heard it said that pleasure is just a low-grade pain. In the end (pun intended), I believe it is the context that determines how stimuli are interpreted by the brain. Hooray for pseudoscience, it makes me sound smart sometimes.

Hello Jazz, I very nearly experienced the same reaction when Doctor BlimpFinger had his way with me. I wonder if blowouts are a common occurrence in that profession. By the way, the dog pic you used for your “dog desert” post was perfect.

Hey Mystic Wing, in a hundred years, people will read about the old days when doctors stuck their fingers up peoples keesters. I can just imagine the reaction.
I can only assume by the “if you wish” that there are people who choose not to waste the lubrication. Maybe they plan to go home and slide down the staircase. Who knows?

4:49 PM, November 03, 2006  
Blogger photo blog girl said...

OMG Sooooo disturbing! And hilarious. Again, the pictures drive it home, straight to the gut.

6:35 PM, November 03, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hmm... my doctor just happens to be a 38-year-old women of no more than 45 kilos.

I quite enjoyed your writing.
Thank-you for the laugh (and the warning).

8:07 PM, November 03, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Photo Blog Girl, time heals all wounds. In my case, it was a few weeks before I could laugh about it.

Welcome to my blog Denguy, 45 kilos is just about right unless she plays in a bowling league or power-knits in her spare time. Nice and atrophied, that is what you are looking for in your doctor’s fingers.

6:16 PM, November 04, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Do you tell your friends about this blog?

Word to denguy, thanks for th laugh (and the warning!)

That Girl

9:20 PM, November 04, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

YOOUUU-HOOO! Give me the brute's real name Slag, my social calendar has been a bit empty lately! Hairy knuckles? He'd never expect me to have on my best set of little girls pajamas under my clothes, heh-heh.
I do feel a bit sorry for the girls and all of those cold steel expander things....but, they're just impersonal, inantimate objects without a memory. They help to break the ice, so to speak, kinda like some kind of foreplay. Our exam is primal and abrubt.
As bad as the prostate exam seems, JUST WAIT till you have problems with that organ and you have to go in every week or so for a PROSTATIC MASSAGE! There ain't nothing worse in this whole world! He gets ya crying and laughing at the same time while he acts like he's lookin' for a spare dime deep in a pocket. Then he gets really pissed if you squirm or take on any position other than his instructed "downhill skier" form. When he's done, you feel like you should moo or something.
Man o' man! I haven't had the colonoscopy and might let the cancer wreck my rectum before they shove the Sony Betamax up that decidedly one way street!
Thanks for a hilarious but sobering treatsie!

11:44 PM, November 04, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi That Girl, friends yes, family hell no. I would send a link to my first urologist but the guy can’t help the way he’s made.

Hey Madpotter, I have it on good authority that the expando-matic aka speculum is no walk in the park. I actually have a few of the plastic models in my shop. I scarfed them from the emergency room (with permission from the nurse) during Jilly’s bladder rat episode. I haven’t found a use for them yet but when the need arises, I will be prepared.
By the way, I have a friend who is occasionally subjected to the procedure you described. He won’t say much about except that he wished they would put him under general anesthesia first.

12:08 AM, November 05, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thank you! Now I won't feel as bad the next time I have to pay a visit to my gynecologist. ;p

4:26 AM, November 05, 2006  
Blogger Orhan Kahn said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

4:41 AM, November 05, 2006  
Blogger Orhan Kahn said...

In this way, you can be reasonably confident that the finger utilized to plunder your precious rosebud will be no thicker than a McDonald’s french-fry.

^ Much funny!

I'm sorry dude, I really wanted to finish reading that but after he put his hand on your shoulder I just had to fast foward. The pictures didn't leave much to the imagination! Like an uncomfortable slide show of terror.

4:42 AM, November 05, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, Slag, why'd you have to go and post that! I finally had my 'significant other' talked into making an appointment, and now you've gone and scared his ass... no pun intended... hee hee hee. I think he had Actually, he'd been trying to 'size up' which doctor to employ, for the insidiously dirty deed. I suggested an old high school friend, turned doc. He wasn't too keen on the idea of letting an old football bud get any closer to his parts than had been, on the football field. I guess that would be the high point of humiliation. Of course, seems they get pretty darned close on that football field, especially during the hike! I never understood that. Guys, having some strange kinda fun.

Madpotter, I must've missed something. Somehow, I never seemed to get excited over those cold steel contraptions. Maybe he forgot to nibble on my ear, or something, in the process. And, if you think those metal tools are the only, shall we say... entity?... that plunders our parts... then you haven't been enlightened. They don't wear those gloves for nothing Of course, perhaps I haven't been as fortunate as one of my friends, who says that her doctor is so good looking that he doesn't have to even apply the lubricant to the latex. :o Yikes! Did I say that? Myself, I usually just lay there and stare at the celing, thinking of some faraway place that I'd rather be.

I was once so unfortunate as to have to endure a cautherization, without any anesthesia. Ouch! If you don't know what I mean, try taking a curling iron, set to 'boiling point', apply to your your most vulnerable spot, and hold for at least 10 seconds... then repeat, at least 5 more times. Yeeeeooow!

9:20 AM, November 05, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Interesting...I never thought about the general anethesia angle. Maybe I should get the old .38 caliber out and cleaned up!
Maybe those speculum things would make a good pottery rib Slaghammer?

11:17 AM, November 05, 2006  
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1:29 PM, November 05, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Irene, I’m sure that are a whole different set of criteria for choosing a gyno, I mean other than finger size. Jilly fired her last one because office policy allowed people to enter and exit the exam rooms with no warning and no concern for patient’s need for at least some level of privacy.

Hi Orhan, It is better that way. If you haven’t already, you will have your own horror stories to tell sooner or later.

Hi Shimmerrings, your story sounds like the plot line for a sitcom. Husband goes to see Doctor FingerPoke and it turns out to be an old football buddy. You might as well lay down the law to hubby, the risks associated with neglect of that region can be most unsettling. I’ve never been catheterized but I have had a Cystoscopy. The scope they ran up my pee pee thing was the size of a hot dog wiener. It had brass hooks hanging from the sides and a rotating drill bit at the end. Not really but it sure felt that way.

Hi Madpotter, my original plan for the speculum was to use it in some expanding technique for slab-constructed pottery. I don’t actually do much slab work so I guess it’s no wonder that I haven’t come across the situation to put them to use.

Hi Yank, I will just visit your site check it out.

2:59 PM, November 05, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Actually, Slag, truth be known, he's been before... but, with a relocation, since the last one, he's been stalling on choosing his new doc. I suspect your posting drudged up those painful memories, better left in the deep, dark recesses of the mind. To be honest, I'm really glad you posted this, it was an extra kick in the butt, to keep him on track. Thanks for sharing the shame!

7:50 PM, November 05, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Shimmerrings, no problem, I always have more than enough shame to share with anybody who needs some.

12:03 AM, November 06, 2006  
Blogger R2K said...

160 bucks! How can you afford that?!

8:14 AM, November 06, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi r2k, blatant, filthy prostitution.

11:21 AM, November 06, 2006  
Blogger Crankster said...

I guess I lucked out--my doctor had small fingers, good bedside manner, and knew a good place where we could drink a glass of wine and talk through it.

9:57 PM, November 06, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Welcome to my humble blog Crankster. You are a lucky man indeed. It sounds like your doctor takes his/her beside manner to heart. As for myself, I would have settled for a sedative and directions to the exit door.

12:41 AM, November 07, 2006  
Anonymous rose said...

Whoa! Now that's what I call visual!

3:00 AM, November 07, 2006  
Anonymous Ma Titwonky said...

Good grief, man! Does the word wuss have any meaning for you guys who cannot stand a little discomfort during an internal examination? Pshaw... this is nothing! Women endure this kind of thing all the time with never so much as a whimper, but men turn a routine rectal exam into an event deserving of the Purple Heart.

The thing is, I don't believe I have ever read as hilarious an account of the whole procedure as was described here (and I have heard a few descriptions of this particular exam). Well done! And a rousing Good For You for solving the problem of invasion by seeking out thinner fingers to do the dirty deed. The important thing is to keep having the exam -- we want you wussy guys alive and well and able to entertain us some more with your tales (or is that Tails?) of woe. :)

8:56 AM, November 07, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Rose, the horror, the horror.

Ma Titwonky, you are the winner of the annual “Bitch Slap the Tit-Fed Crybaby” award!
Jilly, tell Ma Titwonky what she has won today.
Ok Slaghammer, our lucky contestant can look forward to a no-expense-paid bus ticket to Laredo Texas! Two weeks accommodations at the lovely El Gato Taco Motor Inn, including a complimentary continental breakfast will also not be provided. Note: Offer not valid in Alaska, Hawaii or the lower forty-eight contiguous states. Void where prohibited.
What? Did I drag that one out a little too far? Damn, I knew it!
I am in partial agreement with your assessment of the “wuss” factor. One of the things I find funny is large hairy manly men who are afraid of needles. They turn into sniveling whine bags at injection time. Even so, I stand by my contention that for (most) men, having their holy grounds desecrated by large hairy knuckles, without even the benefit of foreplay with a women who has been sworn to secrecy, is more stressful than a pap smear. How do I know this? It’s simple, I don’t. However, I will consider revising my humble opinion if one of our female blogging counterparts provides an equal or more terrifying description of what goes in that other chamber of horrors. ;-)

12:27 PM, November 07, 2006  
Blogger Cheesy said...

Hey Slag~~~ what do you call a Urologist with big hands???

Well Hung :o)

But on a side note....From the sounds of it {re: Jillys blog}~~ here's hoping Jilly has small fingers If you ever really piss her off!

1:53 AM, November 08, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Cheesy, OUCH! I can’t allow my mind to wrap itself around that one, it is just too painful. Re: Jilly, because she’s mine, I walk the line. :-)

4:45 PM, November 08, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

OMG, great story! But, really, you men are such wimps. You should see what GYNs try to stick wherever they can find an opening. ;)

12:50 AM, November 09, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

It’s too late Parlancheq; Ma Titwonky has already won the “Slap-the-Tit-Fed-Crybaby-Award.” You will have to wait for my annual colonoscopy post for the next opportunity to enter the “Slap-the-Tit-Fed-Crybaby” contest. ;-)
Btw, I still only have a vague idea of what happens in the gyno chamber of horrors. I guess women are just too dignified to publicize their humiliations.

3:26 PM, November 09, 2006  
Blogger Jim McKee said...

Good Lord, man! What a tale of horror! Not for the squeamish, indeed. I suspect John Carpenter will be contacting you for movie rights.

BTW, got here via Bestest Blog's Random Blog Button. Feel free to visit me, too! And if you don't, I'll... I'll... Oh hell, I probably wouldn't know if you visited or not. (but it would be groovy if you did!)

3:36 PM, November 09, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Jim, the negotiations are at an impasse over who is going to play me in the feature-length epic motion picture extravaganza. I wanted Gregory Peck but I just found out he’s not feeling well.
Btw, don’t hyperventilate, I will drop by your blog as soon as I regain full use of my computer. It is once again time to take it to the car wash and give it a good cleaning.

12:00 AM, November 10, 2006  
Blogger Jim McKee said...

Thanks... take your time, I'm not going anywhere... and don't forget the underbody rust protectant!

11:32 AM, November 10, 2006  
Anonymous Ma Titwonky said...

I don't know what to say. I'm humbled. Thank you so much for this honor. I only hope I can live up to the expectations that go along with receiving this responsibility. In case there are any public appearances that go with getting this award, I'm working on a presentation of exercises for reducing the circumference of finger width

2:01 PM, November 10, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Yes Jim, I’ve noticed my underbody is getting a little corroded.

Hi Ma, regarding the finger exercises, if you keep that up you are likely to find yourself with a slam dunk Nobel for humanitarian contributions to “man kind.” At the very least, you would have my undying gratitude.

2:19 AM, November 11, 2006  
Blogger phlegmfatale said...

Hear! Hear! Last time I finally found my dream gynecologist. She's about 4'10" and from Southeast Asia, maybe 90 pounds. She stuck her finger in my butt (yeah, we get a piece of that magic, too) and I said "you owe me dinner." We had a good laugh over that one.

6:03 AM, November 11, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Phlegmfatale, now that’s what I’m talking about. At ninety pounds, she can’t have fingers any thicker that a green bean. I think they should at least go through some courting process before leaping towards the old chute. Maybe have a beer and find out if you have anything in common.

12:02 PM, November 13, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I believe you are now what my brother calls a member of the glove puppet club

8:03 AM, November 14, 2006  
Blogger David said...

Your crushed childhood memories alone are worth more than $150.

4:48 PM, November 14, 2006  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Judith, that sounds like something even worse than what it is.

Hey David, I guess I could go for $175. I think that calculates out to somewhere around 500 pounds of raku clay.

10:20 PM, November 14, 2006  
Blogger zorak163 said...

The pictures that you selected to accompany this post were awesome!

9:08 PM, January 03, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Zorak163, thanks, I hunt far and wide for those pics.

9:42 PM, January 03, 2007  
Blogger Kara said...

LOL, that was just too funny. I've had 2 kids and I'd much rather go through that a bazillion times than have someone stick anything up my butt!

10:28 PM, January 03, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Kara, thank you, I feel vindicated.

2:12 AM, January 04, 2007  
Blogger hesitant scribe said...

Hilarious. Hilarious because I know exactly what it's like. Doctors seem to have an obsession with squeezing the buttocks of unsuspecting patients apart, like when you're 9 years old with acute appendicitis (as though the appendix thing isn't quite bad enough), or feel mildly constipated during pregnancy (as though the whole labour thing isn't quite bad enough). Having been investigated, ripped and stitched too many times, the sadist in me can hardly wait till my husband is ready for his first prostrate check (because living with me all this time is no where near bad enough)!

4:15 AM, January 04, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Hesitant, I get the feeling there are many women out there who relish the thought of their husbands and/or boyfriends being subjected to the finger of shame. I say why wait, go ahead and give them a preview of their destiny. ;-)

1:09 PM, January 04, 2007  
Anonymous Chris said...

That was quite possibly the funniest post I've read in ages... until I remembered that I'm 34 this year :-0

1:51 PM, January 04, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Chris, thank you. There is nothing to fear as long as you take my advice about choosing your urologist carefully and wisely. Remember, tiny, little, french fry sized fingers, that is the key to happiness.

3:18 PM, January 04, 2007  
Blogger Pull Up A Chair said...

Okay I laughed... It was at your expense that I did so. Being a female I can tell you that from the time I turned 17 I have been going to have my private parts examined and probed -- to have a speculum jammed up ones crotch while laying on a sheet of cold paper and having a doctor happily talking about his new car as he reaches for a long wooden q-tip to probe the cervix is f-ing scary. It hurts too. OUCH! Once, when he was chatting away, I asked if he could look for a lost set of car keys up inside my vagina... This of course made him laugh like a goof-ball and sent the RN into a palsy of laughter... I always think that if you can make the crowd laugh, that's most of the battle.

2:01 PM, January 12, 2007  
Blogger slaghammer said...

Hi Pull Up a Chair, I’ve had that very same wooden q-tip shoved up my “urethra franklin” on a few occasions… not a happy camper. I think the trauma that men go through with the procedure is primarily cultural in nature. Not to mention the fact that we are not expected to receive the finger of shame until middle age. Sort of a rude awakening if you know what I mean.

5:40 PM, January 12, 2007  

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