"Aaron? You need to get all the stuff out of the back of the van."
"What are you doing on the computer?"
"Looking stuff up."
"What's so damn important you aren't getting up?"
"Does your butt hole itch?"
"YES, as a matter of fact it does."
"Have you been inspecting your poop?"
"As well as I possibly could."
"And you didn't notice any?"
"So I guess I need to inspect your butt hole?"
"Dude. We're married. Wouldn't you rather have me inspect your butt hole? Who else are you gonna ask to look up in there?"
"Eeeehhhhh... I don't want to discuss it."
"It's physically impossible for you to look up there yourself."
"And do you really want to make a doctor's appointment, pay a twenty dollar copay and have him look up there when I can do it myself?"
"Do you really want to look at my butt hole?"
"NOT PARTICULARLY. But you know, I took vows and shit. It's like my job. I think. Isn't it?"
"I don't remember a vow about promising to look at one another's itchy ass."
"Yeah, well, me neither but somone's gotta look at it. Would you rather someone else do it? Who would you ask?"
So... no appearance of a pinworm. But apparently we need to do the scotch tape test and put it under a microscope. Which means we need a microscope.
We need a super-awesome nerdy microscope.
And I really, really need for my husband to not have pinworms. That shit is gross.
If he has it, he got it from his great big business trip this summer.
And that's just super.