...slices of life in the Garden of Good & Evil

Thursday, October 11, 2007


I'm quite sure that I have a big aversion to painful things. Not that most non-sadists don't. It's just that I don't really go around each day needing to dodge a boo-boo. Occasionally, however, one finds you anyway...

Anybody out there familiar with a skin tag? It's like a wart, but a little more fleshy. And it pops up out of nowhere. A tiny bump becomes a small 3D flap which then grows into something worthy of its own zip code. And not in a good location, I might add. It rhymes with troin.

I decided to take action...

Somewhere I read that one should tie a string around the base of the sucker and it would eventually sluff off. It's the eventually part I had problems with. Plus, the thought of a piece of me sluffing was disconcerting as well. The last time I tried Compound W for a foot wart was a complete disaster - not EVEN gonna try it down there. Maybe I should have a professional deal with this thing.

I had an appointment scheduled with my personal Medicine Man to go over some lab stuff from an insurance physical a few weeks earlier. Some liver enzyme spike had my wife concerned (just what I need - to go out like Walter Payton), but he assured me it was no big deal. Now's my chance for the tagectomy...

Me: "What about skin tags"
Doc: "What about 'em?"
Me: "If I wanted to lose one, is that a big deal?"
Doc: "Nah - we just chop 'em off right here in the office"

Great - quick and painless - or so I thought. I dropped my drawers and assumed the position as Medicine Man grabbed up a fresh hypodermic.

Doc: "You're not allergic to Lydocane, are you?"
Me: "Not that I'm aware of"
Doc: "Good. You'll feel a little stick then a burn."

O.K. Here's the stick...then




Doc:"You OK?"
Me: "Oh yeah...I'm good. Was that the Lydocane?"
Doc: "Yeah. Did it burn?"

Like downtown Chicago when O'Leary's cow knocked over the lantern!!

Me:"No big deal"
Doc: "Liar"

As if I weren't debased enough sitting pantsless in Exam 3, Medicine Man was waving around his scalpel like a majorette doing a baton act and had given the skin tag a name - Dirk the Dangler. He then with great ceremony whacked the unwelcomed intruder from my loins and offered it up in a plastic baggie.

Doc: "You want this for a souvenir?"
Me: "Uh, no thanks. Can I put my pants back on now?"
Doc: " Wait a minute. Let me find the damn Band-Aids."

Seems I bleed a lot, too. It just keeps getting better...

Doc: "OK - You're good to go"
Me: "Thanks, I guess"
Doc: "Let me know if some more crop up - we'll get 'em."
Not if I can find a remedy on the internet...

Monday, October 1, 2007

Mr. Brown Around Town

I got some new brown slacks. I guess every man needs a pair of brown slacks in his closet. I did have a nice pair, but somehow they shrank over the last few years...

Anyway, when I bought the brown slacks I also grabbed up a new brown belt. It's not exactly the same color brown, but I heard a little shade contrast is good.

So yesterday seemed like a good time to bust out the new brown slacks/brown belt combo. I even found some brown socks - although they were a bit different brown than my trusty brown dress shoes. Same goes for the slacks and belt. The shirt was white - I really didn't trust myself with anything else.

A quick glance in the mirror started my self-consciousness roiling about the four shades of brown. I then remembered that I was genetically predisposed to bad color matching - my Pop often sported maroon pants with a red shirt (or some such wicked pairing). I tried not think about my festival of brown too much more. My wife wasn't around for an opinion, so I braved the public appearance.

No fashion police came to arrest me...