PDA

View Full Version : To go along with the Deer Joke...



JCavin
01-15-2010, 11:02 AM
Here's the one by Dave Barry about getting a colonoscopy. I was fortunate enough to get this email about 5 days after getting my very own colonoscopy. I think it probably made it a lot funnier to me.
==============================================

This is from newshound Dave Barry's colonoscopy journal:

.. I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an
appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy
showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to
go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.
Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough,
reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't
really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, Quote:
'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription
for a product called 'MoviPrep', which comes in a box large enough to
hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now
suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of
America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being
nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my
preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid
food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water,
only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You
mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you
fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric
system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole
jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am
being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just
a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great
sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel
movement may result'. This is kind of like saying that after you jump
off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here,
but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the
MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you
wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much
confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate
everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you
have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can
tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that
you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next
morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only
was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing
occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if
I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like
that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood
and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led
me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a
little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those
hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you
put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually
naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left
hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I
was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka
in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of
this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too
tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full
Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room,
where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not
see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there
somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll
over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something
up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I
realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy
that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular
procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha
ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for
more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I
am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was
yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next
moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.
Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt
excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all
over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never
been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER
Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the
Miami Herald.--
Regards,
Mike Hogan
http://webpages.charter.net/mohogan/

JCavin
01-15-2010, 11:08 AM
And another:

===========================================

Pocket Taser

A guy who purchased his wife a pocket Taser for their anniversary submitted this.

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.

I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.??

AWESOME!!!?

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.??

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?! !??

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong???

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.? ? All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "no possible way!"??

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...? ? I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it master," reasoning that a one- second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button,?and??

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!!??

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner , then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?

The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, stupid, do it again!"??

Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself!

You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.

A three-second burst would be considered conservative??

SON-OF-A-... That hurt like **% !!! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get up there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I'm still looking for my testicles! I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!! Still in shock!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!?

"If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid."