The Inside-Outside Penis Fiasco

... I can't believe I've never blogged about this before, especially considering it's one of the great stories of RFC lore.

...me in the year 2000.  Yep, look at the hair...

Let's bring it on back now to September of the year 2000.  Y2K was done.  The world didn't explode.  And the Artist Formerly Known As Prince had just become the Artist Formerly Known As The Artist Formerly Known As Prince because he changed his name back.

So there you have it.  2000 was a big year for big stories.  And here's mine:

I was working in a University cafeteria, washing dishes for just a little bit more than minimum wage.  They gave me free meals and made me wear a hairnet.  I had been doing this job for about two years and was pretty efficient at it.  That dish room was fucking hot.  The machine that washed the dishes was about fifteen feet long, and one dude would put the dishes in one end and they'd come out clean on the other.  I was usually stationed at one of those two ends.

So there I was one random Monday night, loading dirty dishes into the machine when I started to feel a little queasy.  Lightheaded.  Possibly puke-ish.  The old man working the clean end, Ignacio was his name, got me some water and a peppermint candy.  I kept doing my job.  The thing about those dish rooms, is if you're short one person then you're pretty much fucked for the entire night.  I started blinking profusely like I was going to pass out and thought I felt a little weird down there.  You know, the place where the manscaping takes place.  I excused myself to the washroom to see what was going on.  I pulled up to the urinal, unzipped, gazed down, and nearly fainted.

Something was really wrong with my dick.

Now, at the risk of giving too much info away, I don't exactly have a usual shaped penis.  Bear with me here, because this is actually important to the story.  I was never circumcised, and I have an extra fleshy part at the tip... but not right on the tip.  It's more like a hook.  Or an alan key.  Actually, I've always compared it to one of those toy ducks that drinks water.  Some of my closest friends actually call me Duck Dick.

Here.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yk71GY02diY Use your imagination.

But back to the problem at hand.  There was something really wrong with my duck.  I have a really good grasp on what it "normally" looks like, and this wasn't it.  Can you imagine what thoughts were going through my head at this point?  Allow me to share:

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

And then I vomited into the urinal.  Not sure who had to clean it up that night, but I'm really sorry about that. 

I went right to my boss' office, stunned and at a loss for words.
"Hi Ryan.  What can I do for you?"
"Hospital... I'm going to the hospital... now, I think..."
"What's the matter?
"...uh.... something...?"
"Something?"
"I think... something's wrong... with my.... uh...."

I had a female boss, and she was a very nice lady.  If my boss were a dude I would have just blurted it out.  Call me sexist if you want, but you try to say "penis" to a woman of authority and tell me how it goes.  So I just gestured toward my crotch instead.   I don't remember what she said, but I practically flew to the hospital.  Luckily, the hospital was only a block and a half away from my work.

The emergency room is not a fun place.  The first thing you see when you walk in is everyone else waiting to see a doctor and you immediately start to wonder how long you'll be waiting to get looked at.  As far as I was concerned, my penis was practically being sucked into another dimension by an evil demonic force.  But before I could see a doctor, I had to deal with the triage nurse.

"What's the problem?"
"Something's wrong with my dick."
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry, my penis."
"No, no, what's wrong with it?"
"It doesn't look right.  It feels weird.  And I'm very lightheaded."

She looked at me as though I'd never had an erection before.

"What do you mean by, it doesn't look right?"
"Well, to begin with it doesn't look right.  But for me, it really doesn't look right."

Another odd look.
So I grabbed her pen and drew her a before and after picture.  Right on my admission form.

"Wait.  This is what your penis is supposed to look like?"
"Can I please just see a doctor?"

I wasn't in the waiting room long, but long enough to phone my father and let him know that I may be dead by morning.  My dad rushed down for moral support because that's what guys do for each other.  If one of my best buds called me up to say he was bleeding from his dick or he thought his dick was falling off, I'd be there in a heartbeat.  I'd make fun of him later for it, but I'd be there when he needed me.

The doctor had me take off my pants and underwear, and he was accompanied by some student interns.  Great.  There's something wrong with my dick and two pretty nursing students are going to get an eyeful of it.  Okay, okay, I'm giving myself too much credit.  They'd only get half an eyeful at best.

The doctor went on to explain that my foreskin had pushed it's way down the shaft of my penis, and that's why it was looking so weird.  I kept waiting for him to say that it was a pretty common thing, but nope.  That never happened.  The look on his face was suggesting that he didn't know what he'd gotten himself into that night.  I completely avoided any kind of eye contact with the hot nursing students.  If I had been circumcised this would have never happened.  Imagine wearing a long sleeved shirt and pushing the sleeves up to your elbows.  That was my penis.

Yep, my muscle of love was completely exposed.  My penis was inside-out.  I don't think it's possible to feel any more naked than that.

The doc looked at it for a bit then handed me a big thing of gauze.  "Bit down on this.  Hard."
Before I could ask why he was yanking my foreskin back up my penis shaft.  I made a noise I had never made before.  "Please, try to keep it down.  You might frighten the other patients."  He actually asked me to try and not scream as he was pretty much giving me the worst tug-job of all time.  He yanked again and I vomited a bit in my mouth but somehow managed to swallow it back down.

"There.  All done."
"...um... no.  There's usually a little more."
"What do you mean?"

He clearly didn't look at the before and after picture I had given the triage nurse.  That's when I reached down and gave a little tug to put my hook back into place.  It was the least painful part of the entire experience.

When I asked the doctor how this all happened to me, he couldn't give me a straight answer.  He'd never seen it before, but gave me some bullshit about moisture and heat and maybe I leaned up against something the wrong way.

....?

He then went on to say that I should give that extra bit of foreskin a little pull a few times a day, just to make sure it was feeling right.  Yep, the way I see it, the doctor (a certified medical practitioner) suggested I spend more time playing with my penis.  I should've asked him to write me a note.

I went home, watched a few minutes of WWF Raw and went to bed.  The next day at work was a little awkward, and whenever anyone would ask about what happened to me the night before I told them straight up that my penis had turned inside out.  When the pretty girls I worked with asked, I added in that I was lucky to be alive.

What's really funny though, is how a couple weeks later I received a cheque in the mail for $13.86.  Apparently, one of those forms I'd filled out with the triage nurse was related to worker's compensation and I was reimbursed for my time away from work.  So in essence, I was paid almost fourteen bucks to get the worst hand-job of all time.

I'm such a whore.

- ryan