Sometimes when I go to Mexico- and by sometimes I mean both times I have ever been there- I get a condition I call jellyfish hands.

Basically I break out in an intense full body rash that makes my hands sting like I’ve been fisting jellyfish and I’m unable to use them as anything other than rudimentary bear paws or scrubbed in for surgery doctor arms until I see my doctor. It could just be a reaction from the intense heat on my porcelain rice paper-like skin, or because I just touched all of Mexico with little regard for sanitation because who cares about cleanliness when you have the runs in a bar in Playa del Carmen. I don’t know, I have a lot of theories, bottom line, Andy is typing this post for me, with the understanding that he is to only type the words and leave the excessive commas and ellipses to me and the PF Changs take-out chopstick I have taped to my middle and index fingers.

The rash

This rash is all over my body. Like… all over (it’s in my no-no parts, y’all, this is really happening). I took this picture on the plane while Andy and the dude next to him were distracted watching Heartbreak Kid On Demand. Related note, someone email Ben stiller and tell him he’s allowed to say no to movies. Quick. Before he makes Keeping Up with the Fockers.

Adjusting to civilian life has been difficult.

Jellyfish Hands

jellyfish hands food

Jellyfish hands toilet time

I’ve tried Benadryl and another antihistamine in search of relief but came up empty, the pain is constant. Andy also offered to pee on my hands, thinking maybe I did get unknowingly attacked by jellyfish in the ocean, but then he got super aggressive about wanting to do it, which leads me to believe it’s less about being helpful and more about fulfilling a fetish.

I’m not saying you need to organize a 5K in my honor yet, but I have a doctors appointment at noon and I need someone to come over and put my contacts in, wipe me and open this Poptart.

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