Anyway, I get a call blue from an old buddy mine trapped at home between a cold in his head and a snowdrift on his doorstep. If you think that’s a pain in the balls, he also has a prostate infection.
“I just got off the phone from speaking with the physician’s assistant,” he tells me ruefully. “She says, and I quote, ‘Mr. Carroll, you need to ejaculate more!’”
Damn. Was she offering to help?
“I didn’t ask. I was stunned. I asked her if she would put it in writing so I could show my wife.”
I can just imagine showing my wife a doctor’s note to convince her to bring me off. She’d probably tell me something nasty, like It’s out my hands or something.
Wait. Did she mean you need to ejaculate more frequently, or you need to ejaculate more fluid?
“Comes to the same thing (pardon the pun), but I’m pretty sure she meant more often. As in, on other occasions besides when Bloomingdale’s has store-wide sales, which is about the only thing that excites her anymore.”
How hard (whoops) can this be? Have you tried plying her with alcohol?
“C’mon, get real. She’s Irish. She drinks me under the table. I’d do better with chloroform and a set of thumbscrews.”
Well, who wouldn’t? Hey, does she realize this is your health we’re talking about? Physical and mental?
“Aaah, I think she just likes hearing me moan and curse when I’m pissing hot lava. Which reminds me. I gotta go.”
Poor bastard. Was it Bonnie Raitt who sang, “Show me a woman who won’t go down and I’ll show you a man who cheats?” He’s not the type, though, and besides, he’s snowed in. Maybe he needs a house call. Or a friendly dog.
Heading up to the low 80s here today.