Dangerspouse Rides Again

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Garage - Track

Feb. 21, 2004 - 5:01 p.m.

Two quick lines that made me laugh:

dicentrah: (On the futility of spraying Juniper Mist in the bathroom after you've used it. REALLY used it.) "...all it smells like-- in this bathroom we all share here at work-- is like someone shit on a Christmas tree." Quick Fact: Dicentrah has the best picture of any diary's homepage, as voted by the panel at HeteroManCon-East this year.

zarfmeister: "Heck is where people go who don't believe in gosh."


I almost didn't make it to work today. I just couldn't get my ass in gear. And I'll tell you why....

When I finally got done making the second batch of Cuban Black Bean Soup I did a very stupid thing.

I ate it.

All of it.

Ok, ok. I let NewWifey(tm) guilt me into ladelling a bowlfull out for her. But I didn't fall for the plaintive "Please sir, may I have another?" schtick she threw at me. Somebody has to keep tabs on her girlish figure, so I strictly monitor her intake. Anyway, other than that one helping, I downed the entire half gallon or so. In two days.

Maybe I should have been a bit more generous towards her.

Have any of you ever eaten almost a pound of re-hydrated black beans, two ham hocks, 7 scallions and a heaping tureenful of spices in two sittings before? Tell me, have your intestines forgiven you yet?

Let's face it; I'm a guy, so farting is like mother's milk to me (and with a garlic-infused Sicilian mother, her milk was indeed pretty pungent). But can I tell you? Ever since yesterday afternoon there has been an unimpeded flow of methane filling every space that has been unlucky enough to house me. It's like someone inserted a wide open speculum up my butt, then stretched my mouth over the exhaust pipe of a running Buick. Anyone have a hot air balloon they're having trouble inflating...?

Y'know, in my single days I would have revelled in such a circus act. Maybe called a few buddies and left extended non-verbal assaults on their answering machines (and then giggling when my sister would come over to use the phone and recoil from the mouthpiece, which was partially melted). But now that I'm married, it seems like a certain ammount of decorum in the derrier department is expected of me. So I usually toe the line and stick a cork in it.

But this time even a cork fortified with Krazy Glue wouldn't do the trick. It would just end up being a 2000 fps projectile. So I let Ma Nature let the pressure out of me at her own pace. Which turned out to be an 18 psi flow, non-stop for 36 hours. So far. I still feel like Bibendum.

NewWifey(tm) has been nothing if not sympathetic. Other than sleeping out in the uninsulated garage the past two evenings, you'd hardly think she even noticed. She went about her normal routine of cleaning up after my disasters every few minutes, and other than a slightly chartreuse cast she seemed right as rain. Remember, she grew up in Cow Country, and as any former milk maid will tell you, ol' Bossy can strip the paint off her stall from 10 paces.

However, by late last night it became too much even for her. She called me out to the back porch. She was holding a propane torch and a wet towel.

"Honey, I'm going to do us both a favor. You need to stop the leak in your natural gas pipeline, and I need a night where my core temperature doesn't drop into single digits from sleeping with the Subaru. Come over her and drop your pants."

I have to tell you, normally I get very excited when I hear that last sentence. Especially from her. But looking at what she was packing when she said this made me wonder if either cauterizing or welding was in my immediate future. NewWifey(tm) was capable of either. But she put my fears to rest.

"Now what I want you to do is bend over and just relax. As soon as you get a good stream of swamp gas going, I'm going to light it. The combustion should empty you a lot faster than just waiting for the tide to recede naturally."

I protested that the flame might back up into my colon and I'd end up charring some areas that I wouldn't be able to dab with salve. Like my liver. She told me to just make sure I kept pushing, and that would keep the flame from backing up. "Remember how you used to do it in college? When you burned those bleachers down?" I did indeed - I still have the mug shots - so I reluctantly agreed. Not that I had any choice.

So, for the second time in two weeks I found myself pants-down in the cold in front of NewWifey(tm), for non-sexual purposes. I bent over and grabbed the rail. And...relaxed.

I've gotta hand it to NewWifey(tm); she knows her shit. Or her shitty gasses, anyway. Sure enough, a quick pass of the torch was all it took. A brief whiff of beans, then that familiar "poof! and an immediate spreading warmth down below. It was actually quite pleasant, and even a relief. The flames seemed to be hastening the exodus of gasses - almost sucking them out of me. I relaxed and enjoyed the ride.

It's amazing how fast fortunes can change. One second I was enjoying being out in the crisp Winter air, my bottom getting a nice tan, feeling internal pressures melting away. The next second.....

It was if an invisible afterburner switch had been activated. The steady, even flow of gas suddenly and without warning exploded into a massive, hideous torrent. The flames shooting from my ass leapt from a gentle pilot-light flicker to a 4 foot rocket booster in the blink of an eye. And the heat increased proportionaly. Suddenly I wasn't tanning, I was crisping. I was also screaming.


That's when the reason for the damp towel became clear. NewWifey(tm) apparently has had prior experience with this scenario. She grabbed the towel and made to apply it, in an effort to quell the flare-up.


Did I mention that it's still Winter up here in God's Country? Blankets of white snow, Clydesdales pulling beer wagons, pioneers eating each other in desperation, the whole bit. It's also hovering around 0 degrees(f). That towel was now frozen solid. So rather than gently applying the soothing dampness of a soaking towel to my incinerating flesh, NewWifey(tm) was reduced to beating my ass with a frigid slab of towel colored marble. This did nothing to discourage the flames. I started to panic.

Leaping from my hunched position I bolted across the deck in a frantic effort to outrun the flames. But my pants were down around my ankles, and I resembled nothing so much as a stampeding penguin staggering about with a Roman candle. I had to put this fire out before it killed me! Nothing I did, no ammount of sphincter contraction, seemed to have any effect.

Finally my scortched thighs could stand no more and I sat down. On a metal folding chair covered in 3 inches of snow.

And that did it.

Duh. Stop, Drop and Roll. How could I forget that?

Blessed, blessed relief. The instant extiguishing of the flame was replaced by a welcome, spreading numbness as I sank into the snow. The heat of that fire - and my flesh - melted the patch of snow immediately under my fleshy buttocks and within moments I was perched on cold metal in a puddle of water. I sighed and closed my eyes.

NewWifey(tm) meanwhile was frozen in shock at the whole scene. It wasn't until I'd been seated for a full minute that she came over to see how I was doing. I told her I felt much better, but would probably need a pillow under me at all times for the next several days. She laughed and told me to come in before Little Elvis shrunk even more.

I stood up.

I fell down.


I tried to stand again. No luck.

Here's what turns out happened:

Remember how I melted the snow as I sat down, and ended up in a pool of water? And before that, I mentioned it was 0 degrees(f) out? Guess what happened to that water in the two minutes between sitting and standing. Uh-huh.

I was epoxied by my balls to a metal deck chair.

Actaully, by my butt and my balls. But it was the balls that I noticed first, and was most concerned with. It felt like they were being torn out by the roots from the hanging weight of all that metal. If I tore half my ass off, I'd still have plenty left. But no guy wants to lose his marbles, no matter HOW much he may have to spare. I called NewWifey(tm) from where I lay.

NewWifey(tm) is not one to panic. In fact, one of her best qualities in my eyes is her ability to find humor even during difficult circumstances. But this time I must admit I did not find her initial stream of mirth to be at all endearing. I was lying half naked on a cold wooden deck in the snow, a metal chair glued to my balls, and my anus probably needed a skin graft. Hearing a succession of "Great Balls of Fire" jokes was not helping succor me for some reason.

She tired out after about 5 minutes, and finally decided to help. She went and grabbed the propane torch.

I immediately grew alarmed. "Honey! NO!! If I survive, I'll kill you."

I think she realized I was serious, so she put the torch down without arguing. Whew.

We talked it over. She wanted to pour boiling water on to thaw the ice, but I argued that would be only a few degrees cooler than the torch and so nixed that idea. I had an inspiration to use an electric blanket and an extension cord, but then we saw the tag on the blanket warned against getting it wet or there was a risk of severe shock. Again, NewWifey(tm) was willing to take that risk. But I wouldn't let her grab the extension cord from my fist.

Finally she actually came up with a useful suggestion:


NewWifey(tm) is an avid and experienced home defoliator. Her little home waxing kit has a permanent place on our kitchen counter, and she takes pride in her bowling lane smooth...everything. And now I was about to experience that particular joy for myself.

It actually wasn't too bad. She heated up a good ammount, then used some little paddle spreader to coat the perimeter of my cheeks and nuts. It was just warm enough to melt the ice, but not burning to the touch. As a patch of skin came free, she applied more wax to the portion stuck behind it. Working like this, my entire nether region was extracted from its frozen prison in about 10 minutes. I was a happy, happy man.

Until we had to get the wax off.

What do you do when your entire ass and both balls are coated in a 3mm layer of scented pink wax, ladies? I know what I'd do. I'd leave it there and hope it flaked off eventually. If it didn't, oh well. But I sure didn't want to apply enough heat to melt something that was completely envelopeing the Boys.

NewWifey(tm) did not like that plan. She said that she was not going to put anything covered in wax in her mouth.

She won the argument.

I now have a Brazilian wax job.

My wife now has seen me cry.

It was 10 hours before I could walk again, and for the first time in two years I considered calling in sick to work because I knew the 50 mile drive in the Mighty WRX would be torture. But I took two Percoset and drove 20 miles an hour down the freeway while perched on a bag of StayPufft marshmallows and made it there just before passing out. I stood for my entire air shift.

And do you know what NewWifey(tm)'s final pronouncement about this whole episode was? Just before I hurky-jerked bowlegged down the stairs to my car she said, "Maybe next time you'll share more than one goddam bowl of beans with me, huh? Yeah, I can still fit into a size 4 thong, but you're too burned to get it up. Good thinking, Hot Shot. Have a nice day at work." And she closed the door.

Women! They'll drive you nuts.

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