(Originally posted March 6, 2007) - "I liked Incesticide better"
I have a burn on my ass cheek.
Let me start over.
I got to work early this morning to get a few things done before I taught my 8 am class. It was around 6:30 or so and I had a cup of coffee in one hand, New York Times crossword puzzle in the other, and nary a care in the world. I threw my stuff down on my desk and decided that it was as good a time as any to head to the head and start my morning off with a nice, cleansing bowel movement.
Being so early in the morning, the cleaning crew had just finished spicking and spanning the tile and there was a nice, pungent ammonia smell wafting through the stalls. My favorite toilet was vacant, so right away I was pleased with how things were going.
I don't know why, but I like the stall that is fourth over from the wall. It is behind the wall enough that you can't see it from the main part of the men's restroom, but not so far off the beaten path that you worry about seeing some underclassman snorting coke off the tile. It's the perfect spot, with stall graffiti just vulgar enough to keep me coming back again and again.
So I sit down, get through about half of the puzzle, then I finish my business and head back to my desk to grade a few papers I should have graded three days earlier. I put the crossword away for later, take a few sips of coffee and sit down at my desk. I start grading some incompetent student's assignment when I notice that my right ass cheek just doesn't feel right. At first I thought to myself, 'crap. I got some splashback and now I'm all wet and sticky.' I immediately dismissed this as the feeling in my ass cheek moved from curious to slightly painful. I decided maybe my wallet was poking me at a funny angle, so I took it out and laid it on the desk next to my cup of coffee. This helped nothing.
So now, what had started out as a sort of innocuous inconvenience had progressed past discomfort and on to being a literal pain in the ass. My mind was starting to reel and I was thinking of all the possible causes for this discomfort and dismissing them just as quickly.
Tack on my chair? No, that feels nothing like this. Snake bite? I think I would have noticed that. Government-sanctioned laser beam aimed from hundreds of miles in space directly at my butt? Probably not.
What the fuck is going on and why does my ass cheek suddenly feel like it's on the business end of a cattle brand?
I went back in the bathroom, but by this time there were a few other people milling around the building and I couldn't risk being caught in the middle of the men's room, pants wrapped around my ankles, checking my ass out in the mirror. I went back in the stall, took my pants down and felt my cheek with my hand. It didn't feel wet or bloody or anything like that, but it was definitely a lot smoother than usual in one particular area. By this time the pain had receded to a mild discomfort and I was panicking less, but still confused. I put my pants back on, went back to the office and finished up my work before I had to head to class.
Fast-forward to a few hours ago. This morning's happenings had all but faded in the back of my mind when I sat down on the couch at a weird angle and noticed the pain was back again. With no roommates home and being in no danger of somebody seeing me look at my butt in the mirror like some steroid freak looking for a good ass vein to stick, I went in the bathroom and dropped my pants in front of the mirror. I have a burn on my ass. A chemical burn from the bleach they used to clean the toilets at school. Obviously, the nice lady with the Medusa hair and hot pink jumpsuit who cleans the men's room every morning didn't quite wipe all the chemicals off the seat in my favorite stall before I decided to make it my temporary place of business this morning. I now have a bleach burn on my ass, as well as a need to find a new favorite stall.
Mondays blow.
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