zenexistence

I meant to post a few days back, but, well, I've been busy.

The McShit, right?
I'd probably deserve it.
Not bad busy, mind you, just "life busy", whatever the hell that really means.

So, I got the results from my urologist regarding my junk.
They were initially inconclusive.
After I had a nice Middle Eastern gentleman gel up and handle my junk (with a sonogram machine, you foul perverts!) for thirty of the longest (no pleasure) minutes of my life, I find out that my testicles lack any kind of growth (wait, what?) or masses.
So at least testicular cancer is out of the running.
It's okay, Testy C, you got Lance Armstrong, be happy with that.
Speaking of Lance Armstrong; USDAA, go fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yourself. With a spoon. Fuck.you.seriously.
Ooops, sorry.
That whole issue causes me to break out into violent fits of Tourette's.
Anyway, back to my balls ...

It seems I'm suffering from a type of chronic epididymitis, probably exacerbated due to all my time in the saddle.
Bicycle saddle.
Bike seat.
Want to see a testicle?
Gross idea, right??
Totally.
So here it is:

Allow me to label it for you:
A. Head of epididymus
B. Body of epididymus
C. Tail of epididymis
D. Way fucking ouchie part of the epididymus

So, effectively it's:
Or at least, yay for a little while we see how the meds work for this condition. So far, not a huge change but I'm gonna roll with it.
Like a ball.
Or balls, if you will.
Ahem.
Speaking of Kermit:


Speaking of artistic sloths:


Speaking of marine-indulgent Klingons:

Speaking of Abercrombie and Fitch pussies:


Speaking of "rawr" and sudden, yet inevitable, betrayals:

I know this is a lacking blog, but I remember that I hadn't updated here so I thought I'd drop by and do so.
THAT is how much I love you.
Disregard that I kept forgetting to do so prior.


Coffee recon, go!
Eye<3ewe,
Scotty

PS -