Saturday, March 29, 2008
So this bump decides to sprout from the back of my hand the other day. I figured I got bit by a spider, so I let it be. Since that day, I’ve watched my bump mutate into a scaly, throbbing, pink doughnut!
Alarmed, I rush to get myself accurately diagnosed. This guy at my gym seems smart, so I show him my burgeoning, fleshy pastry. He casually informs me: “Yep, you’ve got The Ringworm,” then pops the earphone connected to his iPod back in place and saunters off.
An admitted dermatological blockhead, I immediately lumped The Ringworm in with those other obscure diseases, i.e. Typhoid, Dysentery, Hopscotch Lucy, and The Black Death. Hell, I was picturing those Grabboid death worms from that “Tremors” movie sloshing about my veins! So I rush home to look it up on Teh Internets. Every five seconds I fervently glare at my apparent entry wound expecting to see something horribly disastrous take place.
Good ol’ Google came through and let me know Ringworm is just a fungal disease that can be taken care of with Boom! Tough actin’ Tinactin. I’m currently self-medicating and it should clear up.
Meanwhile, Katchie has me quarantined. I’m relegated to marinating in a separate set of fungus fueled sheets at night and she wisely keeps a healthy distance from my beefy growth. If I come within three feet of her with my hand, her eyes turn to saucers and she starts shrieking, “Don’t! DON’T! Dammit Jeff, I mean it!, DOOON’T!!!”
Awe, my wife is so cute. On the bright side, I have one more tool at my disposal to harass her with. Well kids, that wraps this blog up. Until next time, remember to bathe regularly and use soap.