Hello crotch scalding or how the universe punished me for using my credit card.

Okay I admit it. I have been using one of the credit cards lately. I know! I know! Shame on me! A thousand times, shame on me!

But I have paid for my transgressions, believe you me.

Let me paint you a tale of a well suited boy, who was unknowingly following the path to the dark side of credit card management, and how the universe taught him a lesson.

So there I am, swiping away the new platinum card (I did mention I got the upgrade didn’t I? I haven’t? Oh *mumbles* I’m sorry *end mumble*.) Flexing my consumerist muscle. And boy it felt goooooooooood.

You know when you’re in a relationship with a bad girl/boy? You know it’s destructive. You know it’s only going to lead to tears. You know you’re going to end up lying on the floor, in your living room, with the curtains drawn, melancholic emo music playing, in your underwear, wondering what the hell happened. You know all this, but you end up doing it anyway. Why? I don’t know. If you figure it out let me know. But anyways, bad relationships equals good, if not great, temporary emotions.

If my credit cards were magically transformed into girls, they would look and act like this. From left to right. Gold Amex, Westapac, ANZ, Citibank Platinum. The hussies.

So there I was on a shopping high. I had already bought the DVD’s and done the grocery shopping. I was on the hunt, looking for more material goods to succumb to my platinum charms. 

I was eyeing a couple of suits that were flashing me their lining, in the hopes that I would walk on over and give them a good fit, if you know what I mean *waggles eyebrows* ( … I really don’t know how I made that sound dirty… ). Even the Playstation 3 was leaning over in front of me, when it would normally be completely out of my league, shoving its 320 gigs worth of cleavage in my face, begging me to take it home and fondle with its buttons (wow, seriously… I’ve got the ‘horizontal mambo’ in my head today).

Just before I walked into the suit place, which was a hop skip and a jump away from where I would get the Playstation 3. I decided to treat myself to a coffee. And again I was going to use my card. I don’t know WHY I decided to use my card, I had $145 worth of notes in my wallet, and my pockets had the merry jingle when its loaded with coins. Card crazy I guess.

So I ordered my mega-jumbo, huge to the extreme, grandacious, vente-million coffee, or whatever a large flat white is called these days, and was handing over my shiny new platinum card for payment.

The *ominous theme music here* Coffee!

Before the transaction was finished, my coffee was ready to go and in my hand. So as I walked out of the coffee shop, I found myself juggling an iPod, my mobile phone, my wallet, my credit card and a steaming – actually BOILING, cup of coffee. You can see where this is going can’t you? Of course you do, but you know, the best stories are the ones that can be told over and over again. It’s not the ending that matters, it’s the little details on how we get there. So read on.

So there I was trying to open my wallet to put the credit card back in, and it happened. I dropped the cup of piping hot coffee. And god knows why I did the next part, I thrust out my pelvis to try to catch it. What in the world was I thinking? That my penis would be able to snake its way out of my trousers and catch the coffee as it plummeted down?? My brain has a waaayyyy too high opinion of my penis if that’s the case. Anyway, as the falling cup of coffee hits my thrust out pelvis, the lid comes off, and there is now scalding hot coffee seeping through my pants into my most private of places. It was hot. Actually it was HOT. Like how you would think the fires of hell would be hot.

And I screamed.

And I will confess, it wasn’t the manly scream of rage and pain that is so often depicted in movies when the hero has to endure all manner of physical pain.

I screamed like a girl.

Like a 3 year old girl who just got an owie.

It was high-pitched and piercing.

Just like her...

It was not my best moment.

I dropped everything and tried to keep my pants off my skin without actually taking off said pants. Since however, that the inventor of pants didn’t seem to have thought that this was a necessary option for his invention to have, I failed. The pants were searing, and sticking to me in unusual and terrifyingly blistering ways.

An elderly woman, with laughter in her eyes, collected all the items that I had dropped, and asked if I was okay. I made a sound that could only be described as a whimpering grunt of acknowledgement, and hobbled to the restroom to try to cool my crotch with as much dignity as possible, when one is trying to hold ones pants away from ones genitalia.

I managed to limp my way home, soon after and found a pack of frozen peas that gave up its self-respect as I forced it to give me a lap dance in order to cool my nether regions.

Thank God for slutty peas.

And it was at that moment, lying on the floor, in my living room, with the curtains drawn, melancholic emo music playing, in my underwear, holding a pack of frozen peas to my crotch, wondering what the hell happened, I realised that I had completely forgotten about the suits and the Playstation 3. That the universe had saved me from making another huge credit card blunder, albeit by boiling my manhood. A tad extreme perhaps, but I am nothing if rather dense, and it takes an extreme sort of thing to grab my attention.

So to the universe, I give you my thanks, but per-maybe-haps next time, aim somewhere else.

The universe. Wants me out of debt, but may not want me to have offspring.


19 responses to “Hello crotch scalding or how the universe punished me for using my credit card.

  1. I almost feel guilty for taking so much delight in your pain, but seriously dude- brilliantly told cautionary tale.

  2. Never feel guilty about taking delight in my pain. It’s the only way I have meaningful connections with people… I’m so alone! *sob* 😛 Okay.. that kinda came out too creepy… it was a joke! No really it was!

  3. HA! That made me laugh. You know, this is all your credit cards fault. If you didn’t have to put it in your wallet, your coffee wouldn’t have spilled. Then your crotch wouldn’t have ended up looking like Two Face’s bad side. All because of that credit card, my friend.

  4. Omg! You poor man but not really. That was totes hilarious and sad at the same time.

  5. Man, that was funny! I’ve had that happen to me too except it was tea that I’d just made from a kettle of boiling water. And I was wearing jeans. And sitting at home, on the sofa, trying to balance my supper plate, hold a napkin and grab the remote without taking my eyes off the TV. Big mistake. I split the whole mug in my lap and it was hotter ‘n hell! My plate of food shimmied off my lap, onto the couch and then just casually slid off onto the carpet. Food side down. Did I mention it was pizza? Gooey pizza with lots of tomato sauce onto a beige carpet. I didn’t really care too much until the next day when the pain dropped down to just a constant throb. I’m sure I had first degree burns, and it looked horrible. Like a bikini wax that’d gone horribly wrong. Anyway….all’s good now and you know what they say….bad decisions make good stories. Hope your crotch heals without scars 🙂

    • OooOo… I worked as a pizza place oh so many years ago during high school. And yes I can attest to the nuclear-bomb like properties of pizza sauce. It seems to hold heat with a greater intensity than any other substance known to man.
      And thanks! There seems to be no permanent injury. I hope..

  6. Oh man! My husband is looking at me weird because I was laughing like a hyena at your poor sad story.
    You can’t blame this entirely on said credit card though, it does take two to tango as people say. People should say it takes two to give genitalia first degree burns but that is neither here nor there.
    I hope your penis feels better soon. It’s kind of cool that the universe has your back though.

    • I have been the receiving end of those stares many a times… well not from YOUR husband obviously, but from other people. Usually on the bus when I’m reading a book… it makes it all the more creepy fro them 😛

  7. Ohh what a harsh lesson to learn about credit . Burnt pelvis and even worse, no coffee at the end of it! And, like other readers, I want to say sorry for laughing so hard at your pain.

    • Oh no reason to say sorry. If it happened to you, I’d be laughing my arse off 🙂 The way I see it, if my penis is going to be burnt to a crisp, someone, somewhere better be laughing about it or else, whats the point? 😛

  8. Well I have to admit your day was funnier than mine and mine was pretty damn funny yesterday. At least you left with your…um..dignity intact right.

    Hope the peas helped


  9. I’m laughing. I’m not even ashamed of that fact. I deserve a venti non-fat no-whip cleavage burn for the fact that I’m laughing, but I am. Your credit card has now become the hussy that gives out nether region diseases. You will never look at it with the same adoration again. Please tell it that as you unceremoniously punt it to the back of your wallet where it belongs.

    May I suggest taping a picture of the bag of peas to your card?

    • Hurrah! Someone else who revels in the pain of others! Welcome to the club (I’m hoping its a giggling kind of revelling not the sexual type of revelling cause I’m not part of that club… yet… im kidding im kidding! or am i?? *shifty eyes*).

      If I put a picture of the peas in my wallet, I may just do the whole spilling of coffee thing all over again… OKAAAYYY… that sounded too disgusting, even for me.

  10. the broke sensualist

    Best title for a blog ever.

  11. lol, hilarious… lesson learned 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s