Life is a shit fart 
Glancing at Bugman
Blog finished recounting some details of an operation which had to spend a few days ago.
is that a man as I am aware and respectful of whichever rule politically correct thing in life, I followed exactly the steps to make a visit to the proctologist. It happens that, for years, notes that bombard me say that after 40 years, all men should be checked the ass and the inside of your intestine for possible damage that can cause major damage. Similarly should proceed with the prostate, teeth, the heart, joints, and how much of your anatomy you can think of the marketing manager of a laboratory. Not that I suspect all this is a bungled operation concocted by large medical laboratories. No sir. What happens is that the ass itched every so often, and to dispel any sexual connotation, I decided my steps towards a proctologist's office. Great friend
proctologist. The first thing to greet you noticed was the size of his hands. More precisely to your finger. I must confess that I relaxed. The size of his fingers was within normal limits.
was this good man who, after review, I gave the good news that I have surgery hemorrhoids but prior to this, should I have a videocolonoscopía to determine if there is another major problem in the sacred interior of my gut.
I left the office walking around like a high school student who just give you 24 warnings. Crestfallen, meekly resigned overcome the feeling in my stomach. That feeling that tells you there is no turning back. That after me the idiot for years it was time to face reality. That part of reality that makes you feel tiny asshole deeply unhappy because you are going to review the ass. If only Monica Belucci out who makes me amid a sexual debauchery go and go. But no. The reality would be very different.
I tried not to think too much and took the turn for the videocolonoscopía. The nice lady who gave me the directions I explained earlier, inter alia, that the day before the test, should take two bottles of a liquid with name I have forgotten and remain in total fasting.
Idiot me, I thought the fucking part of the case would be to maintain the total fasting. How the hell do I go to bed without dinner and not drink the liter of red wine relaxes me while watching Boquita lose?
never thought that the unpleasant part was taken two vials of liquid whose name will be known psychological reason why I can not remember and I prefer not to remember for the rest of my life reputation.
liquid was bitter and disgusting drink since I was born. It was like an ocean wave coming through my throat giving me nausea and chills. Torture was prolonged because the felt the nausea take the first drink and the fucking bottle containing about a quart. And would take me four hours after another!
God No! Did you see that exitís?.
Swallow the contents of those bottles not only was the worst experience of my life but its effect, as they must assume, was to cleanse my intestines thoroughly so that the doc could look inside my without visual barriers. And when I say clean out DEPTH fuck I'm saying! I spent one night
divine. I never thought my body could contain so much fluid. Obviously we're made of water by 80%. If not I do not understand where it came from so much. And how!
Mariano Moreno and I remembered his comments about his death at sea: "It needed so much water to put out fire." Well, I turned off the fire of Rome and the Twin Towers together. And all in one night. Seized with the nails of the boards of the bathroom tiles. Without uttering a word. Not because I do not want to aggravate. Just could not breathe.
Finally, the next morning, I did the test. Pale and I did follow up the nurse asked kindly evacuate Could sir?
I looked with tearful eyes. She smiled, patted my cheek like a baby and fell asleep under anesthesia. I dreamed Monica Belucci.
Want to know the results?
No matter the results. The important thing is to compete.
Bye.
