high on vicodin
A few months ago I got some water trapped in my right ear after one of my extended masturbatory sessions lolling around in a steamy bathtub.
In the past, I've been able to free up waterlogged ears merely by pouring a capful of rubbing alcohol into the offending auditory canal and letting it drain. Not this time. My hearing in that ear was mildly muffled, but I wasn't so uncomfortable that I'd waste money going to see a doctor about it. I'm one of the uninsured millions that Bill Clinton promised to help and didn't. I don't go to doctors unless I'm having trouble sewing the limb back on myself.
About a week ago—just as my hearing seemed to suddenly clear—a low, throbbing, dentist's-drill-on-an-open-nerve PAIN invaded my right ear. By last night, the pain was so intense I felt I was going to vomit.
Being the worrisome Jew that I am, I'd already searched the word "earaches" on the Web and was convinced that a simple infection had progressed into mastoiditis and would eventually spread to my cerebral lining, causing permanent brain damage and certain death.
This morning I finally poured my pulsating wretchedness into my vehicle and motored toward the nearest emergency room. A female attendant with a decent ass looked at my ear and prescribed antibiotics and Vicodin. About an hour ago I popped two 500MG Vicodin tabs, and WHOOSH!—the pain sailed away like a feather floating in the wind.
No wonder people become drug addicts.
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Enjoy some yahoo! fetish groups: part 1 and part 2.
