Love / Hate

Why is it the things we love hurts us the most? Whether it's friends, family, or even our significant others?

Nothing's worse than the bitter truth of unreciprocated love.

Saturday night I started down that familiar road once again. Seriously, I'm stupider than Bart Simpson who is dumber than a hamster. Sunday afternoon I was feeling the effects of my Saturday night misstep.

Undigestible corn.

That's right. I love corn on the cob but sadly, it does not love me back. After devouring a delightful cob from Chili's, somehow the chewed up kernels found a way to reform themselves on its trek through my intestines where it roughly exited my anus over and over again. First the stomach becomes achy, then painful, then gassy, and finally I make my way to the cold toilet for the first of many trips. Really, it would be much easier if I could just actually shit the entire corn on the cob in all one big painful thrust and get it over with.

While the majority of kernels exit on the first go around it's the loners, stragglers, and dawdlers that do the most damage. Time and time again I have to go back for a kernel here or a kernel there. I don't how they do it but they press down on my rectum with such a strong force it feels like a baby's head is about to crown out the wrong hole. Somehow by the time they make it to the light they have constricted themselves down to the size of a ... well of a kernel. Sometimes breeched and sometimes not.

The problem really lies with the multiple wipes that must occur. Even though it may be just one kernel finally deciding to join his brothers in the big ocean, he leaves a brown trail just like a slug. The more you wipe the more rawer you get; I don't care how thick and soft the toilet paper is or if you're using a shammy. On top of all the rawness, often times my long fingernail breaks through the paper and rakes the already sore bud. I only irritate it further by pooping out another few kernels and anything else my system feels the need to expel. I know my anus is tired and fearful of the abuse. I can tell by the way he puckers in tight even as I sit on the toilet with the cheeks spread - optimal position to widen and open the hole. By this point the poor guy is red and swollen. Even a rim job wouldn't be fun at this point. And Lord knows how I love a good rim job.