Diseased Ass Sucks!

All right, so last night I was hanging out at Gigi's with that bitch Mookah and her friend Stoopie. For whatever reason, we were just GETTING OFF on 'female problems'. Having sat back most of the evening just dipping into the conversation like a fondue pot from time to time, I decided to tell the story of THE TIME I HAD A DISEASED AND SICK ASS **tympani roll, please**

At the time I'd been dating a frisbee golf team, and to blow off steam from enduring hours of their ego, I'd go the pleasure palace and play benwahball. So there I am one day, abooth, when I just got this overwhelming urge to piss in the corner of the booth. I ran to the corner, eked out a flaming drizzle of pee, when it struck me: somethin' wasn't right with my cha-cha! Not only that, but there was an incessant alarm coming from the region of my Bungaranamus. Hmmm...

So after the game (which didn't last nearly as long as my many treks back to glory hole), I went to the Rx for a little OTC medication for this nasty, irritating affliction. I'm sure all you ladies know what's comin' next. Yep. The stuff turned my urine flourescent gatorade and my poo-poo into the consistency of whipped chocalate mousse. After about three weeks of this, I decided I better do something 'cause the stains were starting to bother people and Mike said he'd have to replace the carpet again in Gigi's. Luckily, being colorblind Roger didn't notice the stains on his lighter colored t-shirts. But still, it was getting to be a problem.

Here's the great part of this story... I'm not sure I've ever been more embarrassed in my life. Oh wait. I have. I'll post a new section for that... Anyhoo, I go up to the counter in a very crowded waiting room, and this **blind** woman asks me why I'm there. I demurely tried to tell her I needed to be treated for a sick ass, whereupon she repeats it, only about 60 gazillion decibels louder. Ok, great. Thanks bitch. You got the Mennonite women to blush.

Eventually I'm shown to a restroom and given a bucket to poop in and a thermos to pee in. However, they've changed the rules for pissing into a damn cup from when I was in dominatrix school. I couldn't just hold it under the stream; I actually had to SPREAD (*ahem*) myself in such a manner that I guess would allow no pubes to fall into the specimen cup. Which is bulshit because I had no pubes as I had just been to LaShame for a pubic electrolisis/waxing/shave. Why a pube or two would throw off the test, I don't know. Unfortunately, somewhere in this process, I missed rule number fucking seven or something, and when I let myself go, my gatorade and poo went EVERYWHERE! The last time I had pissed on my own self was the night before when Roger ducked. Boy did I punish him for that, but that's another story.

So there I am, covered in my own pee and excrement, so obviously now I'm aroused.

So here I am sitting on this toilet with my HAND covered in pee, my left LEG covered in poop, my right KNEE covered in pee, and a nice puddle of both at my feet. Shit. God, was I horny. How could this really get any worse? I'll tell you. That OTC medshit STAINS. I was in that damn bathroom for half an hour trying to have an orgasm. And did I mention that it was a normal hot and humid August day in Iowa? You know, the kinda day you wake up and half convince yourself that it really would be ok if you wore your underwear outside. Which is what I'd done.

So what's a girl to do? Well, I held my head high, walked back up to the counter, handed my steaming bucket o' special sauce to the blind bitch (with a matching day-glo hand), and shouted "Here's my sexy waste, now lick my pee-covered boots!" The Mennonites were cowering by now, but damn it, they got down on their knees and within half an hour they had tongue-bathed me into cleanliness. My ass felt much better after an Amish tongue-lashing.

And that, my friends, is the story of THE TIME I HAD DISEASED ASS.

But Jeff sucks more.