Since 2004, Portland's Only Bar Trivia That Matters.
"...but why would anyone want to jam a camera up my butt,"? I asked my physician, when she defined "colonoscopy".
"I already know what's up there, and it's mostly unpleasant."
Then I realized I'd never actually seen my poo in its natural environment of total darkness.
Organisms that live in the total darkness of caves are called “troglobites". That sounds so much cooler than “turds” (although those two types of critters share the characteristic of being born permanently blind). Perhaps the motivation of a colonoscopist is something like that of a spelunker. And maybe the guy at my backside with the long bendy camera and rubber gloves is an aspiring landscape photographer, just cutting his teeth as a technician. “Asshole Adams”, he calls himself.
In any case, it ain't right to tell a guy he can't eat any food for a whole day. I shouldn't even be subjected to this, but I had a tiny little tumor that made me grow all different for a spell, and made me marginally more at risk for bad stuff happening way up inside my butthole. I don't know how to put that in layperson's terms, so hopefully you have an RN around. It's called acromegaly. They drilled up in my head and took all of the tumor out, so now it's just a cool story I can tell girls.
“Clear liquids,” my ass. My entire life has been plagued by the irritating gaps of time between the periods of ecstasy that involve chewing and swallowing things. And now some woman with a bunch of degrees on her wall orders me to endure a TWENTY-FOUR HOUR period of this terror? That's Obama's America for you. Go back to Cuba, bitch.
Fortunately, “clear liquids” is a misnomer, presumably used because a majority of the populace doesn't know the word “translucent”. I assumed when I woke up this morning that there'd at least be some goddamn bouillon cubes in the cupboard - caked as always in dust and cobwebs and the residue of fry grease, from the neglect of people who aren't starving to death.
Now I gotta drink disgusting Gatorade, like some buck-toothed trailer-park Philistine. Some country-fried rube, if you will or won't. I think that might be classist, but I can get away with it because I'm being oppressed.
Thank god vodka is clear, at least. That's my third favorite food, after butter and salt.
Also, sometimes my jizz is kinda clear. Does this mean I'm finally free to go ahead and suck my own dick?
Whoa - what timing! In ten minutes, I'm supposed to begin consuming an absolutely obscene amount of water and laxative.
And five hours after that, I'll be hosting QUIZZY AT BILLY RAY'S for the 564th week! Doesn't that sound entertaining? The cool part is that the first wave is only supposed to take 4 hours, and then I get a break until morning. Nonetheless, of course I've never been so happy that the men's room there does not have a lock.