DINGLE WARY

I just got through wrestling with the single most stubborn dingleberry I’ve ever encountered. I knew it was there because I could feel it pulling upon my right cheek ever so gently as I whistled frivolously upon the throne. I figured it would let go on its own at some point – but this was a determined little bas-turd.

Since, to my knowledge, there’s no folk literature on removing a stingy dingleberry, I found myself woefully unprepared for the encounter. I couldn't just get up, I thought. I need to do SOMETHING. I glanced about hopefully for a stray pair of scissors, but alas, in a workplace restroom my chances of cutting clean the opportunistic parasite were about as good as a 16-seed cutting down the nets with an NCAA Championship title. Next to zero.

So I executed plan B, raising myself off the pot and descending quickly in an effort to gain gravity’s assistance. As I came to a sudden halt upon the seat, I felt the dingle-menace clutch tighter. I knew there was only one way I was going to exorcise this das-turdly demon free of my ass. I needed to talk to the hand.

I will spare you the explicit details of the excision – just know that it was an unpleasant experience, and explains why I am standing as I type this. If you are ever cursed with a similarly stingy-berry, I am now confident in recommending that you just pull up your shorts and let erosion do the work for you.

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.