Jacked Open Like a Vehicle with a Flat Tire in Need of Changing In Two Part Harmony

I had a medical appointment today. And I should probably say that I began writing this post yesterday. So today actually should have read tomorrow which would have been today. Now. Had I written tomorrow it might have been confusing because said appointment would have already occurred by the time you have read this post. Yet I feel that I had to begin writing prior to said appointment. But you are reading after said appointment. Because today is tomorrow.

I hope this isn't getting confusing.

Anyway. Let me explain that I began writing this post prior to said appointment due to the fact that I was a bit freaked. And said freakage occurred due to the fact that said appointment was "one of those" medical appointments. The kind where you drop your underpants and climb up on the examination table. The kind of medical appointment where you will inevitably be told to "scootch down" with you rear-end hanging of said table. That very special medical appointment in which you will be cranked open with cold metal and examined from the inside out.

Yes. So today. Which is in fact today and not yesterday or tomorrow. Today I had such an appointment. And I should say that I was a bit overdue in getting all of my internal plumbing checked out. So I begrudgingly picked up the telephone and made the call last week.

But it is one of those semi-unpleasant things. Perhaps not as unpleasant as having foreign soldiers bomb one's country for the purpose of "liberating" the people residing within its now defunct boundaries. But unpleasant never the less. Yet sometimes you must do things that are unpleasant. So I made the decision. And decided. That I was going.

So. Tomorrow. Or yesterday. This morning in fact. Which is today. On freakin' Valentine's Day. Such an internal plumbing check appointment was actualized. And really. What else could I do to show myself some love.

Actually. I could think of at least thirty-seven other things that I could have been doing tomorrow...er today...or any other day for that matter to show myself some love. And I assure all of you that none of said thirty-seven things involve a cold metal speculum inserted into my INSERT FAVORITE NAME FOR SAID SPECULUM INSERTED PART HERE.

Interesting side note. Quite some time ago it was brought to my attention that there are human beans out there in the world who rather enjoy speculum play of the sexual variety. As far as I am aware I have yet to meet any of said beans. But there is a great deal that I do not know about many of you so anything is possible. Personally. Given my distaste for the gynecological examination I cannot imagine finding this arousing. But if that sort of thing butters your biscuit who am I to judge.

However. My dear friend Franchina once told me about an "electro-shock speculum" she saw in a sex shop in NYC. And I must say that seems a bit extreme. Now this is not to say that I am not open to extremes or extremities. But given that I do not want my sexual partner to jack me open as if I were vehicle with a flat tire in need of changing in the first place. I cannot imagine wanting to be jacked open and then have said jacked open parts shocked with some unknown quantity of electrical voltage.

But that is just me.

So it is now truly tomorrow which is of course today. And somehow. I survived. And I suppose I knew that I would survive. But since anything can happen at any time I thought I should tell you all that I did in fact survive. I was not crushed by a falling meteor. Nor was I struck by a poisonous dart. And this is good for you to know because these things can and do happen.

But I digress.

So. I arrive and pay the twenty dollar co-payment in return for the pleasure of being violated with a cold metal object and swabs or sticks or other scraping devices.

Maybe that was too graphic. Sorry.

Where was I. Oh yes. I have assumed the position. And what can you really do when your rear-end is hanging off of an examination table and you are cranked open with your innards exposed and completely unable to move. I believe that any situation calls for the requisite amount of polite conversation. Even one such as this.

So Michelle...

Yes I call my physician by her first name. Why you ask. Well if you are going to be sticking cold metal objects and fingers and eyeballs and sticks and twigs and swabs and spatulas and other scraping devices inside of my INSERT FAVORITE NAME FOR SAID SPECULUM INSERTED PART HERE then I believe we ought to be on a first name basis.

So Michelle...

Yeah.

How are things.

Good. Except I kind of have to pee.

Can you hold it?

I think so.

Good. Because I don't mean to be insensitive but I'd rather not be left like this ya know.

I can dig it.

Coo'.

So after a bit of cold metal and cranking and jacking and fingers and eyeballs and swabs and sticks and twigs and spatulas and spoons and such I was given a pat on the back and a moist towelette -- similar to one that an individual might be given at a Bar-B-Que restaurant -- and delightfully informed that everything is in fact peachy keen. Therefore. I was free to go and be on my merry little way.

And perhaps you think that the story ends here. Alas. It does not. I arrive at my office and Attorney Number One attempts to engage me in a discussion of necrophilia and midgets.

Again.

And I am wondering if there is some way to avoid having this conversation at this particular moment in time. For quite frankly I would much rather discuss something pertaining to a different topic.

Unfortunately I was not entirely successful in thwarting his efforts. I realized my lack of success in said thwarting when it became apparent that he was following me into the restroom. And continuing his diatribe on whatever it was he was actually saying about said subject. To which of course I was not paying the least bit of attention. He is continuing on and on and I am standing inside the restroom door. And he is continuing his banter to which I would typically provide an eye rolling response. That is of course. Until he realized that he had one foot in the restroom and that this was perhaps not the best place to continue such a discussion.

One point for me.

And for some reason that I cannot explain. Numerous people have since wished to provide me with more information than I wanted them to about their sexual and/or gynecological issues today. And I did not mention said appointment. But perhaps they could somehow sense that I had only moments ago returned from "on of those" medical appointments. And therefore they somehow felt this was some sort of bonding experience.

Nevertheless. After the aforementioned necrophilia-midget debacle I was forced to listen to a variety of information on the following subjects. None of which I encouraged. Yeast Infections. Personal Lubricant. Menopause. Hormone Replacement Therapy. IUDs. Breast Self-Examination. Ovarian Cysts. Pregnancy Tests. Thankfully I did not have to have a conversation about the Vaginal Contraceptive Foam. It might have sent me over the edge.

However. I do believe that I may require immediate assistance from one of you lovely individuals out there in the world. Please. Send reinforcements.

Hurry.