So I went to the doctor today for a little check-up/physical thingy, you know, just cuz it's good to do every decade or so. And the first thing the guy tells me is that my insurace doesn't cover physicals anymore. They only cover action taken by a doctor in response to symptoms, which we both agreed was fawking stupid. So then he asks me (in this really leading, head-nodding emphatically while asking kind of way), "do you feel fatigued? tired some of the time?"

I say "yes, doctor, as a matter of fact I do."

He says "Good. We can use that to diagnose all kinds of things."

So, of course I immediately liked the guy, and want to go down and projectile vomit all over whoever runs Regence Blue Shield, (once again).

And so the exam goes on. We talk family history, alergies, yada yada. He does the tongue depressor, thing in the ear...whole nine yards. (You know, now that I think about it he stiffed me on the rubber mallet reflexy thingy--the bastard, I love that rubber mallet reflexy thingy).

But then, at the end of the exam the doctor says to me, "Well I don't think we've seen anything extraordinary today, so we'll just wait on the lab results..." and I had to just stop the guy right there. I told him, "Doc, just a little tip, never tell a guy that you haven't 'seen anything extraordinary' immediately following a genital exam."

I mean isn't it uncomfortable enough with him down there doing japanese meditation or whatever with your testicles, sermonizing the glory of self-examination, and looking like he's a CNBC analyst all at the same time? Then up goes the boxers and the first thing out of the guys mouth is how we haven't seen anything-fawking-EXTRORDINARY today?

That's just so wrong. So wrong.

I mean, I don't need much. It's not like I want him to hail me the "schlong-master." Or say how gorgeous and well formed I am. Or make sure that he lifts with his knees or anything.

It's just, you know, vulnerable. The next time I'm with a girl (God willing) I just know those words are going to come wafting into the room. "Nothing Extraordinary" in that neon green mist kind of way. And they'll just hover somewhere between my eyes and hers. And that'll just be bad.

When you are in that position you need to be thinking like 1/3 Arthur Fonzarelli, 1/3 Barry White, and 1/3 Thor, God of Thunder. There isn't room for 1/3 Arvid from Head of the Class.

So anyway the doctor turns bright red, and starts choking, and must have hit some sort of hidden panic button, because right then a nurse knocks on the door, and he hustles it out of the room to compose himself and "see what the nurse needs." A minute later he pokes his head in with that whole CNBC thing back in full effect and hands me a perscription for some stuff to keep my scalp from being dry and flaky. He bruskly shakes my hand and tells me the nurse can help me with anything else.

He's nice and all, but I can tell I really blew his game face. I guess that's just one of those things. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Especially if he fondles your balls.