Over the Cliff
Full disclosure. This entry is TMI. And not for the weak of heart. Or stomach for that matter. Like the crazy ass BLOGS over on Team Tinsley where I shit in Celestial Park. Or the time I tried to masturbate in a public restroom.
That makes me sound like I'm a miscreant.
Which I'm not.
Really.
The other thing to consider. Before reading this is that on a aboynamedstu there are rules. Yes. We have rules. Which means that this story, sad, and sick, is true.
I often think about the first person who decided to eat an artichoke. Or a lobster. Or how about the dude who looked at a sick person and thought, I bet I can cut that cat open and figure out what's wrong. Which is all my way of saying that I'm fascinated by discovery, even though I've never discovered anything. Not really. That is, until recently, when I discovered a cure for something that has been plaguing me, off and on, for damn near a year.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back up. All the way to the summer of 2009 when I was first afflicted with a heinous case of athlete's foot. To be fair to the fungi, it was my own fault. I didn't wear flip flops at my health club, which will remain nameless (unless you want to put forth the effort to click the link above that tells the story about my shitting in the park which outs my club. I'm simply too lazy to go back and change old Team Tinsley posts to protect them - sorry) for reasons that will soon be obvious.
I tried everything to cure my athlete's foot. I started wearing flip flops when I was in the locker room at the not-to-be-named health club. I bought over the counter ointment and creams. I carefully aired and dried my foot (only my right foot was afflicted) and toes. Nothing helped. So I dug deeper, searching the vast knowledge of the internets for ideas. Over the course of the next six months I did everything from stick my foot into a bunch of peroxide that I put in a bucket to dumping rubbing alcohol on the afflicted area daily. Which burned. But nothing helped. Not even tea oil which most people, on the internets at least, swear by.
Then one happy day, while showering at the very club where I was afflicted I had the sudden and violent urge to urinate. Curious as it may be, I am grossed out by the prospect of leaving the shower dripping wet, and going into the bathroom to urinate. In fact, presented with the option of doing that versus say, urinating in the shower, I decided on the latter.
The only problem though was this. Trying to be all stealthy so I wouldn't be outed effected my aim, which was shit. So instead of hitting the drain as I intended, I ended up pissing all over my right foot.
And I pissed a lot.
Fast forward to later that day and I noted while working that my afflicted foot didn't burn or itch as bad as it usually did in the afternoon.
I found this interesting, in a very, didn't I piss all over that foot earlier today scientific sort of a way.
Which is why the next day, while showering, I purposely pissed all over my right foot. And then I did again the next day. And the day after that. So on. And so forth.
And you know what. It actually worked.
I have no idea why my pee killed my athlete's foot. I don't. And I'm too embarrassed to ask my doctor. And I don't want to post my secret cure on the internets in case I decide to start bottling my cure all and shilling it on late night TV.
Until I BLOG again...Well I guess I always had this honest streak.
That makes me sound like I'm a miscreant.
Which I'm not.
Really.
The other thing to consider. Before reading this is that on a aboynamedstu there are rules. Yes. We have rules. Which means that this story, sad, and sick, is true.
I often think about the first person who decided to eat an artichoke. Or a lobster. Or how about the dude who looked at a sick person and thought, I bet I can cut that cat open and figure out what's wrong. Which is all my way of saying that I'm fascinated by discovery, even though I've never discovered anything. Not really. That is, until recently, when I discovered a cure for something that has been plaguing me, off and on, for damn near a year.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back up. All the way to the summer of 2009 when I was first afflicted with a heinous case of athlete's foot. To be fair to the fungi, it was my own fault. I didn't wear flip flops at my health club, which will remain nameless (unless you want to put forth the effort to click the link above that tells the story about my shitting in the park which outs my club. I'm simply too lazy to go back and change old Team Tinsley posts to protect them - sorry) for reasons that will soon be obvious.
I tried everything to cure my athlete's foot. I started wearing flip flops when I was in the locker room at the not-to-be-named health club. I bought over the counter ointment and creams. I carefully aired and dried my foot (only my right foot was afflicted) and toes. Nothing helped. So I dug deeper, searching the vast knowledge of the internets for ideas. Over the course of the next six months I did everything from stick my foot into a bunch of peroxide that I put in a bucket to dumping rubbing alcohol on the afflicted area daily. Which burned. But nothing helped. Not even tea oil which most people, on the internets at least, swear by.
Then one happy day, while showering at the very club where I was afflicted I had the sudden and violent urge to urinate. Curious as it may be, I am grossed out by the prospect of leaving the shower dripping wet, and going into the bathroom to urinate. In fact, presented with the option of doing that versus say, urinating in the shower, I decided on the latter.
The only problem though was this. Trying to be all stealthy so I wouldn't be outed effected my aim, which was shit. So instead of hitting the drain as I intended, I ended up pissing all over my right foot.
And I pissed a lot.
Fast forward to later that day and I noted while working that my afflicted foot didn't burn or itch as bad as it usually did in the afternoon.
I found this interesting, in a very, didn't I piss all over that foot earlier today scientific sort of a way.
Which is why the next day, while showering, I purposely pissed all over my right foot. And then I did again the next day. And the day after that. So on. And so forth.
And you know what. It actually worked.
I have no idea why my pee killed my athlete's foot. I don't. And I'm too embarrassed to ask my doctor. And I don't want to post my secret cure on the internets in case I decide to start bottling my cure all and shilling it on late night TV.
Until I BLOG again...Well I guess I always had this honest streak.
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