How much longer can we take this?!

It's been months of torture. He sits around all day rubbing us, but won't get us the treatment we need. Why, oh why, won't he go to see a specialist? How much longer are we going to have to ache like this?

It's summer and we want to go out to play. But, no. We're going to hang around the house.

Tonight we're meeting with his prostate. If he doesn't do something to fix us, we're going to get the prostate and maybe even the bladder to join us in a General Strike.

When he's got to piss so bad that he's doubled up in pain, but his prostate will only let the pee dribble out drop by drop, he might think about getting some REAL help.

Spring is here...and we still hurt.

Spring comes late to this part of Ontario. Thank God we're tucked away warm in Jimmy's jeans...which rarely go out of the house...and NEVER if the temperature is below 10 degrees C.

We would have said "tucked away safe and warm" in Jimmy's jeans but, obviously, there's no safety when he's dropping his ass to the ground to get into that goddamned Ball-Busting car. We wish he'd sell it and buy something nice for us. Something with high seats and sheepskin seat covers.

We're hoping that the warmer weather will bring an end to our pain. The doctor was useless.

He called his friend to get some advice. His friend said, "I don't know, Jimmy. I don't have any balls." He thinks he should have asked to speak to her husband.

Finally...medical attention!

You'd think he'd at least have found a male doctor. But, no. He's taking us to see a chick. We haven't seen a woman in years.

If we get a boner when she touches us, we aren't going to accept responsibility. He ought to have taken us on a few dates so we could get it out of our system.

Achin' to see a doctor.

We've been sore for weeks now. I mean SORE!!! He's tried everything. Ice packs. Sitz baths. Soothing creams. Just touching us a lot. And promising to take us to a doctor if we aren't better in three days. No make that four days. Five days. Okay, he'll give it one more week...but no more than that.

Now he's decided he's not going to do anything to help us out until he's pissing blood.

In other words, he's never going to get help for us.  We wish he'd take us to Florida and let us soak in the salt water. Even if it doesn't help, we could use a change of scenery.

It was a nice day in northern Ontario..

when Jimmy decided to take that goddamned car out for a drive. It was sunny and not too cold.  Most old geezers would be happy to sit in the sunshine, drinking a scotch and water. But not Jimmy. No. He had to be "cool." He decided to go out for a spin to show off his new set of wheels.

Maybe if he wore jockey shorts it wouldn't have been a problem.

But, goddammit, when you're swinging 8" lower than his ass, and he plops down like a sack of potatoes, something's going to get damaged. It's been months now. The pain is constant. If he doesn't do something about it, we're going to pack up our bag and leave.