Exploding Cigar Penis

Dunno what Xan is talking about, but who would like to hear the butterflied penis story?

 

For the love of God, NO!!!!!!!!!

 

Oh, oh, me, me!

 

Me, too! Me, too!

 

Hmm, you're both female. That must be why...

 

I don't want to hear it again. It hurt even me.

 

OK, first I refer you to the official SportsJournalists.com Style Guide entry on the subject:

I can't take credit for the term, that was coined by IJAG. The owner of said penis referred to it as "frankenpenis".

My ex underwent a buccal mucosa urethroplasty a few years ago. He was born with a deformed urethra (not his fault - it's not like he attached himself to barbed wire or some shit) and underwent extensive surgeries as a child to reconstruct his urethra. After about 20 years, the reconstructions began to give out. Fissures developed in his urethra, which made urination painful. And no, that wasn't from sleeping with me.

In the first surgery to fix the problem, they split his penis lengthwise like a hot dog and scraped away the damaged tissue. Then they took skin grafts from the insides of his cheeks and sewed them onto the now-butterflied penis. So that the grafts could heal, they had to leave it open. For several months.

Once the grafts healed and the sutures fell out, they went back in. This time they stuck a catheter in and sewed the butterflied portion up around the catheter, which stayed in for several more months.

And yes, I have pictures.

 

DO. NOT. POST. THE. PICTURES.

For the love of all that is good.

 

That poor bastard.

 

Big deal. Isn't that the way it's supposed to be done?

Our family made a ritual of it. Go pick strawberries at Thompson Farm in Kenosha, have a picnic at Bong Park (where the old family farm was before it was torn down for a never-built AFB in the 70s), then go find the ole family rippin' post the Air Force thankfully left intact and have at it.

The blood of my stricken pants goblin trickled down the post just like my German-Dutch-Luxembourgian relatives before me. Rite of passage and all that, what's the big whoop?

After I did mine, my grandma gave me an Orange Shasta. My uncle came up to me, gently patted me on the back and said, "Best one you've ever tasted, huh?" And as I held the Shasta in one hand and penis gauze in the other I said, "Now I know what you've meant about Shasta all these years."

Wouldn't trade it for the world. It all formed back into the two inches of glory the ladies love to this day.

 

OK. That was funny.

 

This probably should have been End. Of. Thread. ... then Bubs came in with another classic.

You guys never fail to amaze. Thank goodness.