Wednesday, February 25, 2009

It Happened One Summer

I just read my post entitled “My Balls Itch.”

That reminded me of the time I flew coach from Newark (or New York) to Prague and I ended up with a case of crotch rot fit for a king.

Anyway, somewhere near the Charles Bridge I pantomimed my symptoms to a Chinese pharmacist who sold me a little tube of stuff to rub on my hairy, hanging nutsack.

It had one of those funny Ikea furniture names like Bosporp or Jikki or something like that. I think it came from Hungary.

That stuff worked pretty well, actually.

I was grateful.

And to this very day, I think good thoughts about the Czech Republic and China and Hungary every time I think about my itchless scrotum.

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