Ahoy There.

Ahoy there.

Apologies for the long hiatus. Obviously there’s been a lot happening of late and only recently have things quieted down enough for me to update. (To be honest, I started this post about 3 weeks ago and it’s been taunting me from the “Edit” bin since then.)

So the Facebook updates are true…I’m totally married now.

Made of Unobtanium

The pictures of said wedding have yet to be sent back to us, but I do have this…

Obviously someone flipped on the Improbability Drive.

After said wedding/honeymoon, our days have been spent playing catch-up in a vain attempt to get back to some semblance of control over our world. (Read as: normalcy has not yet been restored.)

As further proof of this, I have the following, rather graphic, tale to relate.

[[[[Those with weak constitutions should skip the rest of the post. Particularly if tales of, erm, “tail issues” make you queasy.]]]]]]

Last Sunday I developed your garden variety “bum ba bump bump,” likely because I was straining too hard on the bowl. (In turn, likely due to the amount of beer I’d downed the night before.)

This, by itself, is not a strange occurrence; it’s happened a couple times before. No, the weird part was late Sunday night, when the little bugger started to hurt. And I’m not talking about the adorable “ooo, that stings a bit” kind of pain.

No, I’m talking “pine cone colonic” kinds of hurt.

But, as many of you can attest to, there’s not a whole lot that can be done about it. So I do my best to ignore it and set about the restoration of normalcy. That is, until this past Wednesday when, during my post-Chick-fil-A “quality time” at work, the damn thing burst open like an anal piƱata. And I had no idea until I wiped…

Bright. Red. Blood.

Now, to say that I freaked out would be an insult to freaked out people the world over. I completely lost my cool. I became the Omega Berzerker.

Thankfully, I never poop without an iPhone. So I spent the time between blood-soaked wipes Googling “Hemorrhoids burst bleeding” to see what would come up. And I actually found several stories of people who’d lived through similar situations, and who hadn’t bled to death in an 8th floor office restroom.

I’m not going to force the rest of this story on you, suffice to say I’m still waddling around with hunks of toilet paper wedged firmly in my nether regions.

Humility…I has it.

And for those of you sitting in front of your monitors wondering why the hell I’m telling you all of this, my reasoning is as follows:

Somebody else decided to talk about this rather embarrassing incident on the Interwebs, and it was a huge help to me in an extraordinarily panicky moment in my life. So, as a thank you, I’m casting this tale into the digital ether in the hope that someone else, who might find themselves in a similar situation (perhaps Googling those very same words that I oh-so-handily enclosed in searchable quotes above), might read my tale of bootie woe and take comfort.

Yes, hemorrhoids can burst open.
No, you’re not dying.
You are, however, in for an unpleasant week or so while that thing heals. I’d buy some extra rolls of toilet paper if I were you.
Oh, and don’t bother with the creams/gels. I tried ’em and they don’t do a goddamn thing.
Advil and baths, that’s the ticket.

Welcome back to my blog, everyone.

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