Words can’t describe how beautiful you are…
But numbers can.
I thought I would start my latest blog with a laugh because these last few weeks have been anything but funny. So this blog is called ‘Dateless Mully Goes to Hospital’ Now, before I start on the hospital visit I thought I would bring up the struggle I am enduring to get a date these days. Imagine having a bad experience at a supermarket, research says you will tell at least nine people about your bad shopping experience. Now change the supermarket to me, and the shopping to shagging, and you can put together what has been happening to me. I start chatting to girls, it seems to be going well but then one way or another they find out who I am. “The guy who blogs about his dates” that sentence with the name Mulligan added to it seems to have made its rounds throughout Tauranga’s dating scene as once I start chatting to someone off Tinder or NZ dating they usually fucking click it’s me.
So what’s next? Hmmmm well maybe I need to tell them I blog about my dates right from the start, it sure would save a lot of time fucking around with the whole ‘what type of music do you like” generic questions that get asked constantly. Would telling them that make the date less authentic? Time will tell I guess.
Now time to tell you how I ended up taking my poor bum into hospital went down, but first a warning if you haven’t had dinner yet this might put you off. All righty so after a long week of painting it was time to put down the brush and rip the top off a cold beer. Well on this occasion one beer led to two, two beers led to a box, a box led to town, that led to the strippers, the strippers led to the brothel and then the brothel led to bed. The next morning, I woke with a pounding headache and a sore arse. I quickly started to piece my night together making sure nothing had been inserted up there at the strippers or brothel, nope. I sat on the toilet which naturally spreads ya cheeks a little, I put my finger up and I find a fucking lump! “What the fuck is that” I scream instantly thinking my body has manufactured a new STD which would soon be called Lump Mulligan. In a panic I jump on google to try and self-diagnose myself. BAD IDEA google comes up with CANCER CANCER CANCER – go to your nearest hospital. Now I’m thinking fucking hell I’m going to die with this newly formed cancer lump in my butt.
I keep searching and searching for other theories of what it could be and that’s when I found it, a really good article on boils around the anus that are formed by dramatic sweat. I have now convinced myself it’s a boil and begin to watch YouTube videos on how to pop it (why are these videos so satisfying). I grab my flat mates knitting needle, chuck it in hot water and now surgeon Mulligan is about to operate on his lump in his bum hole. I pierce the lump with the needle three or four times but no pus comes out as promised by that fucking article, no no no. What comes out is blood, fucking loads of it. I ring my mum and tell her what I’ve done as this blood hasn’t stopped coming out and it’s been half an hour. She picks me up in my tissue made nappy and off to the hospital we go. I get rushed straight in as by the time we got there my tissue nappy was fully soaked in blood. The Doctor examines me and immediately lets me know what it is, “it’s a vein that has protruded out into the anus, more commonly known as hemorrhoids” oh fuck sakes so that lump I had self-diagnosed as a boil turns out to be a vein and I stabbed the shite out of it. I got prepped for rubber band ligation surgery which is where they put a rubber band around the vein to shrink it and cause the bleeding to stop. Well the surgery went smoothly and I was discharged the next day but not before a stern telling off from the doctor. “Next time see a medical practitioner instead of diagnosing yourself, this could have all been fixed with a script of steroid cream.”
Well that’s it for me, I shall continue looking for a date and staying off Google, even if I have just a cough it’s straight to the bloody doctors!