Addendum to "Not for the Squeamish"

After a very subtle, mostly implied conversation with Nick, the head teacher at ECC, I was given a note for the pharmacy to supply me with an ointment capable of rendering the previously-mentioned bug bite harmless. The pharmacist supplied me with a cream called "Kid A", which means I can only hope that Thom Yorke also suffered from an ass-welt at some point in his life. I applied a glop in my school's bathroom and crossed my fingers.

At about 9:00 last night, my egg hatched. The eagle soared, and all things ran dry. It ruined a pair of my boxers, but the sense of relief knowing that this was only a 24 hour malady was more than enough to make up for them.

Funny story that acts somewhat as a predecessor for a post to come:

In the morning, I couldn't angle my rear in a way that I could see whether or not I was growing a tail in the mirror. Like any concerned person, I was desperate for visual affirmation, so I used my digital camera to take a couple of photos of the upper portion of my ass. I brought them up on my laptop, puked, and moved on with my day, not thinking twice about their presence on my memory card.

Last night, the other foreign teachers and I went out to a faux-German restaurant (of which I have numerous photos and stories, but those are for another post), and like any newcomer, I brought my camera along. Ryan, my future roommate (gruff Texan, imposing physical presence, reminds me of Wilford Brimley if he was a 28 year-old offensive lineman), asked if he could see my camera. Without thinking, I handed it to him and he started looking through my pictures. The first few he saw were random shots of the skyline or what-have-you, but then... "What the fuck!? Is that your ass!?"

I felt after its physical presence had run its course that maybe my humiliation was over, but apparently from this point on I'm going to be labelled as the guy who took close-up photos of his ass. Good stuff.