» Ouch!


A couple of years ago, having temporary success in moving out from my parents' house, I decided to embark on several things that I had wanted to do, but didn't want my parents knowing about.

Having had several piercings before, all above the waist, and not having a parter (or indeed, the prospect of one), I thought that it would be a good time to get myself a Prince Albert.

I popped myself down to London shortly after new year, since I knew of a very reputable place down there that wouldn't do a cackhanded job of it. I spent my day doing London things, and left the job as the last thing to do before heading back. I booked myself in, and sat rather nervously, as, after all, I was going to have a needle put through my manhood. The lovely woman, who was to do the procedure, talked me through what was going to happen. I was fully prepared for what was to happen, meaning that my legs were clamped shut, and I was shaking (through both fear, and the fact that I was in a room without a heater in early January).

When I had calmed myself down, and dropped my trousers, revealing my manhood to the female species for the first time since puberty. I thought hard about blaming the cold for the lack of size, but I didn't want the pity of someone who would certainly think that I was making excuses.

Having been sterilised (but not in that way), and with the receiving tube inserted into the urethra (which was very cold), I realised, slightly too late, that the next thing coming would be the needle, rather than the anesthetic that I had previously been expecting. I caught a glimpse of the needle, in all of its three-point-something millimetre glory, and decided that it would be best to close my eyes. On reception of the needle, my body tensed up, and my my feet flinched upwards rather sharply.

This ended in an uncomfortable experience for the two of us. I managed to kick the poor woman in the stomach, and the resultant shock caused her to pull the needle upwards. Despite being in excruciating pain, it thankfully did no more damage than was initially intended, and though contorted lips, I apologised profusely.

Once the jewellery was in place, I made my way home, now realising why people recommended having a short journey home, rather than half an hour on the tube, an hour and a half on the train, and a mile walk at the other end.

This however, was not the end of my pain. Ignoring the regular stinging caused by evacuating myself in the days afterwards, I was finding the ring that was in place uncomfortable, as it was slightly too large. A week after the wound was inflicted, I bought a smaller ring, since I didn't want another few weeks of discomfort before it healed. In retrospect, it would've been better to endure that, than have what came to me, at the fault of my own hands.

I sterilised the new jewellery with alcohol gel, washed myself with water, and removed the larger ring. I then put a little bit of lubricant on the new ring to ease it through the hole.

At least, I thought it was lubricant. I'd put the alcohol on it instead.

Let me tell you, that was far, far, far more painful than any needle, and the scream that was produced woke up my flatmate, who was sleeping downstairs. I have since learned my lesson in not fiddling with unhealed piercings, and not to leave lubricant and alcohol gel next to each other.

Length? Perhaps not as much as I'd have liked.
(Sun 1st Aug 2010, 20:22, More)

» Irrational Hatred

The misuse of highlighters
And let me tell you why.

In my job, occasionally I get lumbered with a stock count, which means checking that all of our thousand or so hearing aids are present. By serial number.

I have a sixty-something year old lady as a colleague, who gets the same fate as I do. I thought that it would be easier to check numbers off the list by highlighting them once we'd counted them, thus when you get nearer to the end, the un-highlighted numbers will stand out. Simple. Apart from the fact that my colleague cannot use a highlighter in the logical way. Instead of using the flat edge of the chisel tip to highlight the text in one broad sweep, she used the point to colour it in.

I put up with this for nearly seven hours (off and on, mostly on) before having to excuse myself to rant to an understanding colleague.

I feel angry just writing about it!
(Thu 31st Mar 2011, 19:53, More)