Friday, June 1

Part Three- Crotch Blisters

In between guffaws V was very helpful. I was calm and getting less dizzy by the moment when she said,
“Has it blistered yet?” Now at the time I did not understand the significance of that tiny little word: yet. No, it had not blistered and there was a party, beach music and the Hottest Man Alive waiting for me. I got off the phone and rejoined the party.
Fast forward again:
Boat docks at house…dance…drink…dance…
Boat takes party back to Marina.
Mama G and G decide to hit the town.
G invites HMA.
HMA says he is meeting friends but will bring them to wherever we want: just name the place.
Place is named.
Everything goes to hell.
Mama G and I parked as close to the bar as we could. Six blocks away. It was a damn holiday in a damn tourist town with a damn arts festival and a damn golf tournament all happening at the same time!!! Damn it! After two blocks both my feet and my thighs were revolting against the rest of my body and I realized three things simultaneously:
1) YET. V had asked if I had blisters YET!!!
2) HMA and I had not traded cell #’s!!!
3) There was no way I could walk another step.
Mama G went to get the car as I leaned against the building and tried to look sexy while keeping my thighs from touching each other or any thing else (even air). I was hoping for/dreading the sight of him walking around that corner. It didn’t happen.
We went home, Mama G made me a drink and I v e r y s l o w l y took my clothes off. My scream was Psycho worthy and brought Mama G running to the bathroom where she found her progeny naked, tequila in hand, staring in horror at the blisters on her bikini line. Yes, folks, step right up and see the crotch blisters.
Honestly, I did try to take pictures of them because they were the biggest blisters I had ever seen in my life (the one on my right thigh easily three inches long) but there was no way to get them in the picture without exposing a little more of G than I am ready too. Plus, they were really nasty looking, you sickos!
After a call to MD Cousin G I popped them with a sewing needle, rinsed the area with peroxide (wince with me people, oh yeah) and fell into a drunken, pain induced stupor trying not to think of the HMA who got away.
Ahhh…the comforts of home…

4 Comments:

His Sinfulness said...

I'm so glad they aren't blisters of the communicable sort.

(Sorry, but my mind went there first when you said "crotch blisters"...)

Flynn said...

Agreed.
I saw Google reader pop up with "Crotch Blisters" and sat down to read a story I knew would require much consoling. Glad that's not the case.

As a far too pasty Canadian boy living the desert (close enough anyway) I dread my annual sun burn...
However, years of coca-cola red tans have given me some tricks. My advice: get a jug of vinegar- it'll take the sting out.

Feel better hun.

WNG said...

HSBP- Me too! I'm all better now (the ONLY reason this is amusing). But thanks for the concern.

Flynn- I'm glad you liked the title! How would you have explained CB to your single serving friend???

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