Yeah, no one thought it was herpes, Scott.
Now, before we start, let me call attention to this gigantic sore on my lip. I know, I know. You’re going to say: is that giant herpes? No, nope. I burned myself on soup. I twice microwaved the same soup – I microwaved it, it got cold, and I microwaved it again – I overmicrowaved it. And when I took a sip, I quickly spit it out because it was scalding, but there was a little piece of spinach that was part of the soup that wrapped around my lip and wouldn’t let go.
And so I didn’t realize how bad it was until it actually blistered. I know what people are going to say in the comments. It’s monkeypox, right? Go ahead, just say it, say it. It’s monkeypox. It was NOT monkeypox, it was from hot soup.
Now, in the interest of proper context, at the time I was eating the soup, I was also f—— a monkey. But I don’t think that has anything to do with this. It was probably the soup. And I’m not gay, but the monkey was. The monkey was very gay. And I don’t think that gives you any risk, because I’ve read that you both have to be gay. But I was not gay, I was just a man having sex with a monkey who happened to be male, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
Forget the monkey and the possible monkeypox. I’d say we now have a pretty good idea why his wife left him. What woman can be expected to tolerate a man who still hasn’t figured out how to eat soup by the time he reaches the age of 50?