...no wait...reverse that...Getting to the Matter of the Bottom...there, that's better.
It's true, faithful reader...at the age of 51 years, 11 months, and 20 days, I endured my everybody-oughta-do-this-at-50 colonoscopy.
The problem with this is that folks expect me to write this hilarious blog about it...because...like...it's funny...you know...they stuck something where the sun don't shine. Tee--and may I say--hee.
The reason that's a problem is because Dave Barry has already covered that base in a far grander scale than of which I could ever hope to even be a dim shadow. Seriously, check it out: http://www.miamiherald.com/283/story/427603.html
And the True Truth of the matter is, it really wasn't that big of a deal. Yes, the "GoLitely" bowel-flushing mixture was a little slimy, but nothing to gag about. The procedure itself was a little humbling, but nothing painful whatsoever.
The most fun was the short period of so-called recovery, when I was encouraged to get "all that air we pumped into you out." That section of the facility was quite musical, but I'm proud to say I could compete with the best of the virtuosos.
Not that any of you really wanted to know that.