It's summer. Therefore, it is sticky, humid, damp, wet and just plain uncomfortable. The moisture creeps into your basement requiring a 24 hr dehumidifier, it climbs up the walls in you bathroom resulting in mold along your tub line and in TH's case, it makes a home in his pants.
We were enjoying a lovely brunch on Sunday morning when this conversation took place:
"We need to stop by the drugstore after brunch" said TH as he shoveled up another forkful of syrup soaked Belgian waffle in his mouth.
"We're out of toilet paper AGAIN!" I said. "We just got at 48 pack last weekend! What is wrong with you? You really need to see a doctor"
TH looked at me blandly and said, "No. I need to pick up some cream for jock itch"
My forkful of egg and bean burrito stopped halfway to my mouth. Immediately, I had images of those ancient Greek marble statues whose crotches were covered with moss. EWWWW!!!
After taking a moment to compose myself and eat a bite of egg I said, "So, what you're saying is that you've got a fungus on your balls"
"Not on my balls, you dip shit. It's just around the sides of my legs." he said as he paid the check and we got up to leave.
I was already in full swing smart ass mode. I was gonna bleed this baby dry.
As we got into the car, I asked, "So, when we get home, can I applied the penis cream?"
TH sighed with annoyance "I said it was jock itch, not cock itch. Can we just get this and be done with it."
I smiled coyly. "But, that doesn't mean I can't put it on" I was enjoying this whole episode.
We pulled into the drugstore parking lot and I bounded out of the car, eager to continue TH''s humiliation.
I pranced down the drugstore aisle with TH in tow. We stopped at the display of anti-fungle creams and TH squatted down to pick out a package.
"Do you know which one you need" I said. I was scanning the labels and they all seemed to be for Athlete's Foot or something else that was foot related.
"I think that this is the one. Lotrimin." he said as he eased up to standing and was reading the label.
"Why don't we ask the pharmacist." That was my classic answer for anything drugstore related. When in doubt ask the man in the white coat.
"No" he said, "I'm pretty sure this is the one".
"But, it says it's for Athlete's Foot. I don't think you're suppose to put stuff like that on you balls"
"For the last time, it's not on my fucking balls" he said.
"I'm gonna ask the pharmacist" I said.
"Ya, why don't you do that" he said, eager for me to leave him alone.
I walked up to the pharmacy counter and said to the pharmacist, "Hi! What sort of stuff would you use for (said in a stage whisper) jock inch. Would you use Lotrimin?
"Yes. Use Lotrimin Ultra"
I trotted down the aisle back to TH. "He said use Lotrimin Ultra. Apparently, he knows that your balls are ultra awesome".
TH just glared at me and walked to the check out counter. I guess I had said that last sentence a little too loud and the pharmacist was looking at us funny.
I lost my steam on the ball fungus topic once he distracted me with a trip to Eastern Mountain Sports. Oooh, look shiny things!!! I was also remembering in that I was in my own anti-fungal battle. Hours of spending time in hot, sweating running shoes and walking barefoot in the gyms yoga room had given me my own moss covered body part. I thought Athlete's Foot was only for gnarly, smelly football players. I thought I just had a weird blister until it refused to go away. I'd had my own conversation with the pharmacist (different drugstore) a week before. I just didn't tell him that it was me that was suffering from icky foot syndrome. I lied and told him it was my husband. I didn't want him to think that I perfect little ole me had a festering sore in my fabulous stilettos.
And before you guys start thinking that I passed my mold to TH thru some kinky footplay, you're all wrong. Don't look at me like that. You know your mind went there, you sick perverts. I may be freaky, but I draw the line at feet. Just thinking about it give me a full body shiver.