Anything Lime



Meanwhile, Patrick adds “Surgeon” to his resume

Patrick returned home from his three-week trip on Saturday evening. Needless to say, I can’t get enough of him. To cap off a pleasant weekend well spent, he packed lunches and met me at work this afternoon so we could have a nice little break together. We found a cute little wooden bench in the shade near my building. Chef Patrick had whipped up my favorite: peanut butter and jelly, extra jelly. He packed some other snacks, and we had a delicious lunchtime feast.

It wasn’t until after the meal when disaster struck. Seated next to Patrick on the bench, I spun around to face him and that’s when I felt a sensation of physical discomfort that will forever make me rethink the way I use the phrase “pain in the ass.”

I immediately grabbed onto my backside and found the source of the pain — a large splinter that had sprung free from the bench and latched, with incredible force, onto my bum.

In a rush I pulled piece after piece of wood out of my pants, but still the pain did not subside. What the heck?!

I reached down the back of my pants to find that yes, there was in fact some karma coming back to bite me in the… well, you know.

Knowing I couldn’t do it alone, Patrick offered to help. NO! OF COURSE I AM NOT GOING TO LET YOU PULL A SPLINTER OUT OF MY BUTT IN PUBLIC!

“In the car?” he asked.

“Fine.” I agreed.

We went to the car (a walk that was even more painful than it was embarrassing)and I pulled down the back of my pants.

“OH MY GOD! WHITNEY!” He said. And, despite his lack of ability to stay calm in the face of a serious medical situation, I felt strangely reassured. “IT’S HUGE! This is going to hurt! BAD!” Gee, Patrick, thanks for the encouragement!

After a little bit of poking and prodding, one good yank marked the end of the splinter experience. And while there was some lingering inflammation, I was grateful that the entire episode was short lived.

I suppose the lesson to take away from this traumatizing experience is to find someone you feel comfortable showing your butt to. That and to be weary of park benches.

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Comments

  1. * Patrick says:

    I didn’t tell you this babe, but I kept that splinter. After you write your book and make it big I’m gonna put it on eBay. Think how much people will pay for that!! Woo Hoo!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 4 months ago
  2. * boomingemu says:

    Fast forward 5-7 years to when you are selling the car. You will likely have upgraded to a larger, family-sized vehicle, but you will no doubt be saddened when the time comes to sell the car of your mid-twenties. Some kid getting ready to enter college will be looking at it with his/her parents. As the kid is sitting in the car imagining the first road trip in this new piece of freedom, you will be finalizing the sale with the parents. With the sale almost complete, the sadness wells up inside you, and you and Patrick both get a lump in your throats thinking about the all the fun trips you’ve had in that car…all the singing to the radio…all the special memories. Then the memory of the splinter incident will come to mind. Patrick will say “Remember what else we did in this back seat?” and you will say, “Yes! I thought my ass was never going to stop hurting.”

    Awkward!

    | Reply Posted 9 years, 4 months ago


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