Be Careful on How You Touch Yourself

Warning: This post is potentially stupid.


Before you start snickering away at the title, I'm deadly serious. When you touch yourself, be very, very careful.

Today, let me share with you my totally retarded testimony on how I learnt this lesson the hard way. First off, I'd like to introduce you to the culprit of all my agony in the following stories: heating oitment (you know, the stuff you rub onto your skin when your muscles are strained). Those things, as heavenly as they are to tired/strained/sprained muscles, are total el diablos on everything else.


A long time ago, when I used to stay in this blazingly hot little city called Kuching, I had a very painful experience with this ointment. Ok, what happened is, there was this one time I had pretty strained thigh muscles thanks to me not warming up.

One fine day, after taking a shower, I went back into my room to apply some of the ointment onto my thighs. I broke out the tube, squeezed out a cupious amount onto my right hand, and started rubbing away. Oh, did I mention that I was i the buff too? But you don't want to imagine that. Like seriously, you don't. Anyway, I was sitting on my bed and rubbing it in when my man-thing started to itch (I blame my cats and their damn fleas).

Now, when a guy's man-thing starts to itch, nothing in the world can compare to the irritation that is felt. Except maybe a whinny mother-in-law. Anyway, without thinking, I attended to the itch on my man-thing with my right hand (which was still chock full of ointment).

Let me tell you, it took all the man in me to resist screaming and running out of my room to the toilet so I could wash the ointment off. I took it like a man, held back my screams, and put my pants on before I went out to wash off the ointment.


Flash back forward to 2 years back. Same story: strained thighs from not warming up. I'm applying ointment and my eye starts to itch. Me and my brilliant self rubs my eye with the same hand chock full of ointment. If you've never seen a man really cry, you should've seen me that day. Not like I wanted to cry anyway.


Flash back forward to 2 days ago. I'm sitting at my desk going through my blog rolls. Out of habit, I rub my chin with my hand and notice an acne growing. As a typical male, I like to keep all the things I'd need around my work space so its a little chaotic on my desk. And I hope by the phrase "a little chaotic", you realize that's an understatement.

Back to the story, annoyed at the new blemish on my beautiful man-face, I reach over to my tube of acne cream. Using my mighty powers of reflexive movement and sheer braindeadness, I unscrew the cap, squeeze out a dab of cream, and apply it on the acne.

And then I started feeling this stinging sensation. I looked down at the tube and lo' and behold! It was a tube of heating ointment. Needless to say, my acne ridden man-face so did not agree with my choice of acne cream.

The rest is history.


Moral of the story, watch out how you touch yourself... Especially if you have your hands full of heating ointment.