Stuff That Hurts

[Originally posted on May 31, 2017 — old blog]

I think you’re smart enough to know by now that I’m a male, right? So today I want to discuss stuff that hurts. And when it comes to pain (plus being a male), this equals me being a big baby. So here’s another list I put together (in no particular order) of all the things that I find (or have found) physically painful. If I add on more later it will be marked with this: (*edit)

A nostril pimple — This is the reason I started this very post. Right inside the edge of my left nostril sits a pimple from hell that hates me. It’s probably the size of a pinhead, yet for some reason it feels like the rock of Gibraltar. Current pain level on a scale of 1 to 10 … 48.

Hat hair — Have you ever worn a hat through a traitorous day. Then you get home later that night and take off your hat to let your head breathe and when you go to run your hand through your hair IT FUCKING HURTS! Yeah, hat hair sucks. Pain level … 53.

Back pain — Upper, lower, it doesn’t matter. When it comes to your back, this is the foundation of your body. If there’s something wrong with it, it tells you. I remember the day I started to believe in Chiropractors. In 1997 I was working in that warehouse for StoreNet and I was moving two 80lbs monitors stacked on top of each other. I put the hand-truck under the boxes like I always did, stuck one foot behind the wheel, and pulled back on the boxes to lift and move them. It’s as if I heard this sound. Yeah, no dice. I was down and out. I immediately went to my manager all hunched over like Igor and told him I was splitting. I got all the way home (From West Chester to Upper Darby) and looked in the Yellow Pages and found the closet Chiropractor I could find. I called. They answered and told me to come in now. Dr. James Hellar. One of the strangest, lovable guys you’d ever want to meet. Without touching me he looked at my back. He asked no questions either. He could tell by the way I was standing what I did wrong. And he said it. “I see. Did you happen to be doing some kind of jerking motion like this?” [as he made the same move I did to lift the hand-truck.] I WAS SOLD! I was in and out in 20 minutes and the world felt right again. I still see Dr. Hellar to this day when something doesn’t feel right. Bone, muscle and nerve. He does it all and he does it right. No gimmicks, just solutions. Pain level … from 11 to 2099.

Sunburn — As you can recall from “Places I’ve Been”, I’ve been burnt, and bad. We’ve all been there. This is one of my least favorite pains because it last for days. And then the peeling. So much toasty skin just trying to get away from you as slowly as possible. Pain level … not enough Aloe.

Burnt skin — (by fire or heat) Excluding sunburn, this is one of the first warnings we learn in life. “Hot!” And sure as shit we don’t really understand what “Hot!” means until we actually touch something really fucking hot. It could be hot water like Rain Man. Or an open flame. Or even mommy’s cigarette she stepped away from, but only for a second. And my least favorite of all, hot pizza burning the roof of your mouth. This is almost the equivalent of a human mouse trap. It looks so warm and delicious, and you’ve forgotten in mere seconds that it just came from the depths of hell. Every bite and slice after that point is just null and void. You’re only eating at this point as to keep from dying. Pain level … 666

Stepping on a rusty nail — Yep, I did this one. Roaming through the park with my pals as a kid. If I can recall, it was about the last week of school my Junior or Senior year. Here’s how I remember. We had exams. And after running down a hill in the park, and stepping over some lumber at the bottom, I landed right on a nail sticking through a board. And as I picked up my foot in pain, the board was attached. I obviously went home and notified mommy. She took me to the hospital and I got my ever so dreaded tetanus shot. But I couldn’t walk right, as it was very painful putting weight on my fat foot. So what did I do? I opted for a cane instead of crutches to attend my exams. I wanted to look like a pimp, but it just wasn’t in the cards. I was a goober and I had to deal with it. Pain level … in the ass … to my parents.

Stubbing your toe — It never fails. Whenever you stub your toe on the bed frame, and waiting for all the stars to dim and the birdies to go away, you swear to yourself that you’ll never do that again. And then some time goes by, I don’t care if it’s 6 months or 6 years, you stub your toe again and experience that same exact feeling all over again. Then before you know it you’re making empty promises again to yourself like a really bad relationship. Pain level … 1,000,000,070,000,002,000.

Shin bumps — See “Stubbing your toe” but only higher on your leg. Actually, I think it could be a tad worse, because your shins keep records. Take a second and feel the very front of your shins. Just run your finger up and down the front of your leg feeling for the pits and grooves of your history. Do you remember slipping off your metal bike pedal that day and immediately questioning God’s existence? Or how about that time the pizza guy finally knocked on the door and you jumped up to answer it and immediately smacked your shin on the coffee table like a karate master trying to chop a piece of wood. Not cool. But like a Timex, this is the toughest part of our bodies that take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. Pain level … 50–100

Bee sting — I can recall be stung twice in my life. Once at a very young age. I was hanging out on the back balcony waiting for mom to whip me up some peanut butter and jelly. I distinctly remember not having a shirt on. (Probably the last time in public too) Anyway, as I was just looking over the railing up and down the driveway, out of nowhere <WHAM!> right in the left tit. This is probably the closest reaction I can find, but mine was a lot more high pitched and tears. So many tears. The second time I was stung I was an adult. Again hanging out on a friends back deck drinking some beers. I took a call on the phone and stepped away to the back railing. I was leaning over and my hand dangled over the rail. And there it was again <WHAM!> right in my finger. I jumped like I just found an open electrical socket (which I’ve done as a child as well). The only thing that made sense at the time is that they neighbors were shooting blow darts at us. BBs even. I had no idea what just happened. When my friend did some investigation, they found one of those muddy wasps nest right near where my hand was dangling. In the famous words of Dane Cook, “Fuck bees”. Pain level … 300

Mace to the face — Have you ever been maced before? No, not this one. The pepper spray kind. Yeah it sucks, doesn’t it? It’s as if the devil itself is pissing right on your face. If you answered yes to this, chances are someone sprayed you, right? Well, this dum-dum sprayed himself. Well, it was an accident. And technically I didn’t spray it on myself. I had found a can of pepper spray while cleaning out my Uncle Sammy’s house after he passed. I took it home with me. I wanted to show my friends, and I sprayed it into the bushes. Then like a good boy, I hid it away in the garage so I wouldn’t get in trouble. As I returned to the pack of buddies hanging out, for some reason God told me to itch my eye, and I did. What he neglected to tell me is that some pepper spray dripped onto my hand. My guess is he was looking for a really good chuckle, and boy did he get one. I can only imagine that he muted the sound and started playing this gem as he watched me dance around like a pinball for 10 minutes, bouncing off of everything I could no longer see. Finally my friends set me up with a towel and a bucket of water, for 20 minutes of cleansing. The second time was actually someone spraying me. Johnny G to be exact. I wasn’t attacking him. He obtained his own pepper spray somehow. We were at the local elementary school park just hanging out. I was a good 30 feet away from him, and for some reason he sprayed it my direction. All I could remember was his voice telling me for the next 30 minutes (after running to his nearby house to get a bucket of water and a towel), “I didn’t think it could spray that far.” Guess what, John? It can spray that fucking far. I guess we know now that you’re safe from being raped by a dude with a 30 foot dong. Pain level … If given the option, I’d rather snort Tabasco.

Ingrown stuff — Be it a toenail or a hair, this is the sickest joke your body can play on you. One day you’re having a great day walking around getting chores and errands done, and the second you take your shoes off for the day to relax, your toe goes, “NOPE! Pay attention to me dickhead.” If you don’t nip it in the bud when you first feel it, the nails keeps growing into your toe like a fucking razor blade and the only way it’s coming out is with some local anesthesia. And ingrown hairs are the nail’s asshole cousin. Everything is going great, and then you’re on the couch relaxing for the night, running your fingers through you hair and then BAM! You spot a landmine sitting right on your skull. It didn’t hurt a minute ago. But now that you’ve spotted it, it hurts like holy hell. And you’re not going to stop messing around with it until it’s gone. But they don’t go down without a fight. You squeeze and tug and hot compress. In some cases, you contemplate getting mud or some sort of topical to do the dirty work, because that’s how fucking painful these suckers can be. Pain level … 1,000,000 and 999,999, respectively.

Menthol powder on the genitals — I’m not going to lie. This is only painful the first time you do it, which must be done immediately after a shower. The first time I did this was the summer of 95. I thought my nuts were going to actually freeze off in the middle of the summer and everyone would now have to call me Chrissy. I jumped around the house for a good half hour. I didn’t know then that the more you moved and gave it air the worse it could be. I was cross-eyed for a good 30 minutes, and then my nerves finally gave up. Just to compare, this is almost the same as putting Icy Hot down there, minus that awful smell. (Which I’m smart enough to have never done.) But back to being not smart. Once the pain was over the pleasure remained. And that’s how my powdered penis addiction started. I don’t do it every day, but when you need a good, legal pick-me-up, this is the best route. Pain level … A bagillion (but only once to learn “that feeling”)

Bone Marrow Biopsy — Have you ever laid the back of your pelvis under a running jackhammer with a boulder on top of it? Then a tank on top of the boulder? And then the Statue of Liberty on top of the tank? And then a cruise ship on top of the Statue of Liberty, and then Africa on top of the cruise ship? No? Well add the moon on top of Africa, then you’ll know the fucking pain of a bone marrow biopsy. It’s the meanest single procedure one could have done to them. But it’s a very important procedure when you have a condition that the doctors can’t figure out. So as your reward for being a pain in their ass, they give you one of your own in return. If you’re lucky, it’s worth it. In my case, it was useless. Pain level … Googleplex

And finally…there’s stepping on a Lego — These dingbats demonstrate it perfectly. Luckily, I’m not a parent yet and have a much lower risk of this happening to me. But it has happened and it’s not fun. How there hasn’t been a multitude of news reports where nearby children are punted into the next room, I’ll never know. Pain level … Googleplex -10.

That’s it for now. There are a million things that cause pain and these are just a few that irk me. Share one that you hate dealing with in the comments below.