I’m normally not a streaker, unless I’m in the privacy of my own home and it’s butt-chillin’ cold outside.
Why would I steak if it’s cold outside? I’m glad you asked.
I wasn’t outside, but actually inside. I had just gotten out of the shower and although the wood stove was roaring like a freight train in the living room, the heat had yet to spread throughout the rest of the house.
The wood stove was a dear, dear friend. I loved that little cast iron pile of greatness. It sat about 3 feet from the wall and the heat that emanated from the pipe leading outside was another source of greatness. Standing behind it could make you feel all warm and fuzzy. Especially if it’s -26 F outside. Especially if you had just gotten out of the shower. Especially if you were still nekkid.
I was still nekkid, except for a towel wrapped around my waist. I’m not a complete idiot. Just a partial idiot.
Anyway, I ran from the bathroom, partially clothed and stood behind the pipe of the wood stove. Ahhh! It felt good. To warm up even faster, I started to jog in place. It was a good idea, or so I thought.
I got too close to the pipe and my “bubby” hit it. Not only did it hit the pipe, but it adhered itself. What is a bubby? It’s what Teresa Guidice on the Real Housewives of “New Joisey” calls a….I’ll let you figure it out.
You know how the increased heat is supposed to send a nerve impulse from the burning area to your spine and how the somatosensory neuron (the one conveying the heat) activates the motor neuron (the one that initiates movement) and how this motor neuron sends an impulse to the muscle controlling your body and is supposed to make you react to the burning sensation? It’s the same somatosensory nerve that also sends a message to your brain, which is supposed to tell you to, “Jump back, you idiot! It’s hot!”
Yeah, well, mine is a little delayed. Click here for proof.
After staring at my “bubby” adhered to the stove pipe for a few seconds, I realized, “Shit! That’s going to leave a mark.” Upon my realization, I felt the searing heat and yowled! The somatosensory nerve was working in full force, except my “bubby” refused to detach itself from the pipe. I had to pry it loose and was left with a blister the color of a sun-ripened strawberry, but bigger.
I don’t need to tell you that it was near impossible to wear undergarments for the next few weeks. And, as a friendly reminder, you shouldn’t stand too close to me. I’m not sure how many lives I have left.