GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #1079: HYALURONIC ACID

 I don't give much of a shit about sports of any kind, so this sort of news flies waaaaaaaay under my radar, but when I saw a headline regarding skiers who have found an innovative way of cheating, I had to take a look at it. Quite honestly, I think these guys shouldn't be punished. They've suffered enough.

Because ski jumpers have learned to inject hyaluronic acid into their dicks. A lot of it, from what I understand. That's got to be punishment enough.

How the fuck does this help a ski jumper cheat? An excellent question, one of the first I asked, myself. It turns out that, much like fighters in boxing or UFC, skiers have to be weighed and measured because the regulators want to ensure that their outfits have a tight fit. If they don't, then a loose flap of cloth will help them out aerodynamically, giving them more distance.

So if you walk in with a fat hog for your fitting, when your equipment sheds the acid it will be back to normal size, and the cloth between your legs will hang just enough to give you that advantage.

I have no idea how the hell anyone figured this out, much less got caught. How did that go down, exactly? Perhaps a trainer one day said, "Dude, if I shove this needle into your dick, it's gonna swell up so much that" etc. So of course the other guy has to say, "DUDE! That's awesome! Stick me, bro!"

And then a judge has to go, "Hm. That's weird. He got more distance than he should have. I think his crotch is flapping in the breeze. Hey, wait a minute! Did he inject his cock with hyaluronic acid so it would swell up and we'd get an inaccurate reading of his crotch area during his fitting? Now if only I can catch him red-handed so I can prove it . . ."

I watched Cemetery Man. I didn't need to see the needle go into his penis to feel the pain. But even that's not the worst of it, because if you get the dosage wrong, you might disfigure your dong. It might not stand at attention anymore. It could cause you "penile discomfort," whatever the fuck that means.

You could also get infected and have to have your dick amputated.

Could you imagine having to explain that to your friends? "Yeah, I got gangrene and had to get my dick removed."

"Jesus Christ, man. How the hell did you get gangrene? What did you do to yourself?"

"I wanted an extra meter on my ski jump, so I stuck seventy cc's of acid into my . . .  you know what? It's a long story."

It brought back memories of the guy who went in for a circumcision only to wake up from the surgery without his glans. The doctor at the time said he'd found cancer in it, so he made an executive decision. What I think happened is, he cut a little too far down by mistake. It would have been a simple matter of asking the patient's wife for permission to amputate, which he didn't do despite the fact that she was on hand.

Which reminds me, John Wayne Bobbitt is back in the news. People Magazine thought to ask what he's been up to. Turns out, he lost a few more body parts. This is allegedly related to his service as a Marine . . . at the dreaded Camp Lejeune.

I did not expect this to be heavy on penis trauma. I just thought it was pretty funny that the Winter Olympics had a scandal called Penisgate, which was going to be the title of this GF, but I didn't want you to know that off the bat. At least now you know . . .

You know the rest.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #463: VINDICATION

 

As most of you know I've been having problems with my guts for the last few years. More or less, it was a mystery illness. Sometimes it went unexplained. Sometimes it was pancreatitis. Sometimes it was gastroenteritis. But now I finally have a solid answer for what's wrong with me. And now that I do, I have serious doubts that I had pancreatitis or gastroenteritis or any of the other feeble diagnoses that I've been given over the years.

Also, everyone, up to and including ER doctors, was wrong. And I was right. In fact, many of you reading this now have told me what my problem really is, and you were all wrong, too. After my most recent stay in the hospital earlier this week, I feel vindicated.

I've mentioned before about ER doctors relying too heavily on Occam's Razor and not actually investigating an illness. You know, otherwise known as doing their jobs. They're not the only ones who lean on that one, though. Almost everyone does. Doing work is hard. If you tell an ER doctor that you drink heavily, then obviously that's the problem. Stop drinking and you'll be fine. Dummy.

But they are the dummies because they're too lazy to find out what is *really* wrong with you. They're impatient to get to the next patient. They only have a couple of minutes for you. Sadly, many real doctors rely on the ER doctor's diagnosis and go from there. This time? I met a doctor who actually wanted to find out what was wrong with me and treat me accordingly.

AND I FINALLY HAVE A REAL ANSWER! And sorry, everyone. Alcohol was NOT the problem. It was actually my oldest addiction that caused this: caffeine (more to the point, the Coca-Cola it comes in because I don't drink coffee). A real doctor came to me in my hospital room and told me that I had . . . I don't remember the name of it. I was gone on morphine at the time. He said that in some diabetics, if blood sugars get too high, it causes the stomach to freeze. You can still put stuff in it, but it's not going to go through it. Since the stomach freezes, all that stuff has no choice but to come back up the way it went down. Hence the constant puking. It also causes extraordinary pain (hence the painkillers).

So yeah. Alcohol had to go, more or less, one way or the other. But it did NOT cause my health issues. A lifetime of drinking ten Cokes a day (a conservative number, by the way; some of those Cokes were Super-Sized McDonald's Cokes) is what did it to me. Now I actually have a chance of winning this battle. They put me back on insulin, which is a hassle, but it's not that bad. After everything I've gone through, one gets used to needles even if they're going into one's stomach, self-administered.

I'm sure my future won't be hospital free going forward, but there will be a lot less ER visits. Because now I know, and knowing is half the battle.

Oh, and for the record, yes, the ER doctor put me on Ativan, which has one use for an alcoholic in the ER. It stops him from having seizures due to withdrawal. Despite me telling him that I don't drink every day anymore, and I don't need a drink to get out of bed anymore, he didn't believe me. Granted, alcoholics aren't exactly the most trustworthy people in the world, but still.

Here's a Craig Ferguson joke for you about alcoholics versus junkies. I've been an alcoholic, and while I've done heroin, I was never a junkie, but I've known a few. It sounds like a reasonable assessment.