TMI (Totally Maladjusted Individual)

I haven't been blogging, duh. I've been regrouping. To be completely honest, I was losing my way a bit...for like the hundredth time. It was still better than last year at this time, which was better than the previous year, etc.. So, here's what's been going down.

I went to the Big Game last weekend and never made it past the tailgate phase due to weather and the Civil War. I wanted to catch the end of the Oregon game and I was also contemplating setting a trash can on fire (Hobo Heater) at the tailgate. So, my hetero companion and I ended up at our bar that we go to after soccer games. It was warm, there was beer, and the games were on. It was pretty nice. I was supposed to go to my company holiday party at 7:30 that night and was persuaded out of it by about 7 people. I felt loved. Then I felt loaded. We got home pretty early and I tucked my hetero companion into couch. Technically, he passed out and I threw a blanket on him as I went to bed. Would that be called chivalry? Is there gay chivalry?

Anyway, Sunday blew donkey balls and I spent most of it on the couch catching up on soccer games from the day before and getting a little bit of work done. Jesus, my day makes church kind of look exciting. At least you get to get dressed up at church and interact with people. I realized at the end of the day on Sunday as I went to bed that I had not said a word all day. That's creepy. I hadn't even made a sound. Not even a grunt of pain as I wracked my toe against the corner of the coffee table.

Monday came. Tuesday came and I had a doctor's appointment. It was a dermatologist for a seasonal affected scalp irritation. That's right ladies; he's single. I've sat on this blog entry for two days now and decided that the main rule of this blog is unabridged honesty as long as it is entertaining and artistic exclusion to protect those acquaintances of mine that don't need to be dragged through my mud. So, this is embarrassing, but it's part of the deal. Let the chips fall where they may when it's about me.

So, I'm at the dermatologist and he checks out the scalp and gives me some shampoo. He then asks if there is anything else and I tell him that I should probably get my yearly STD test with it being Christmas time and everything. I think my last one was right around Thanksgiving so it was time. It had been an interesting year. Plus, due to recent events I was considering the peace of mind that a clean slate would be.

So, next thing I know, a man has my penis in his hand. It was kind of funny as I stood up while he put on his gloves and I said "What do I do?"

He looked back at me and just said "Drop 'em."

Now, to a relatively young heterosexual male, lab coat or not, getting a professional HJ from a man is uncomfortable. It gets even more uncomfortable when he asks you if you participate in Receptive Anal Sexual Activity. I'll spare the reader a wikipedia link there.

I looked back and said "Well, you know I experimented in college...No, dude."

So, we finished the hands-on exam and I got to go give blood and urine. See? This is the part where I am awesome. I knew I would have to give urine so I didn't use the restroom when I got to the office. This solves two problems. No pee dribbles on your undergarments and you have pee to put in the bottle. This dude is smart and seasoned. Plus, I couldn't even imagine this happening, but a spontaneous eighth grade chalkboard erection would make all parties uncomfortable during an exam and having a full tank helps this out.

Before I get to blood and urine, I would just like to point out that I'm disgusting and twisted for even writing about this, but it's happened to everyone. I swear.

So, I sign the HIV consent form saying that if they blow it I won't blame them. It's a scary form to sign for sure. I went into the lab and let the extern (I'm not sure what this means) tap a vein. I'm very vascular and she brought over three other phlebotomists to help her choose which one to poke. I guess I have the veins that phlebotomists like. She handed me a little squeezeball and then jabbed me. She did something wrong because nothing was coming out. My first thought was that this was the part where everyone finds out that I had actually been dead and no longer had blood, but I could feel it pulling. It fucking hurt bad. The oldest one came over and tweaked it a bit and the pressure let off and I gave them some blood.

The last part is the best. She handed me a biohazard bag and the bottle. She made a small mark with a Sharpie to set my goal and went and did my business. As I walked back from the bathroom, I was very nonchalant with my bag of biohazard urine and made my way down the hall without anyone noticing that I had a fist full of piss...until I bumped into the hot doctor lady.

Seriously, she was super hot like the doctors on House or any of those other doctor shows on TV. There should be a word for when you see a hot doctor, nurse, or stewardess. I used the word stewardess because there are no hot flight attendants on domestically run airlines because the ugly ones complained.

When this happened I felt like I was holding a five gallon trash can of pee with both hands. It wasn't a full-on collision worthy of a "Pardon me," but instead was a light graze enough to gain attention from the grazee, however, it was still obvious that I had been peeing in a bottle that gets put in a bag with biohazard written on it.

So, obviously after having my penis in a dude's hand, signing an HIV consent form, giving blood and peeing in a cup, I'm not really super in the mood or throwing game at all, but she was hot. It was still okay to say something charming and smart. NOPE! There is no line nor game when you have pee in your hand. I merely skulked back to the lab and dropped off my specimen and got the hell out of there feeling flush and about six years old.

Hoping for a clean slate on Friday and then pursuing a life of celibacy if only to avoid ever having to do that again. I'll throw down, don't get me wrong, but perhaps something that is more traditional in regards to timelines. Maybe let it be more special (specialer?) than getting a pizza or winning a soccer game. Jesus, what is happening to me? Also, if I see someone on Halloween dressed up as me at my annual STD exam, I'm going to get superpissed. Actually, I don't get superpissed. I will be unnerved.

So, there you go. Besides that, everything has been awesome. I can't believe I'm posting this. Whatevs. I made the bed. I'll sleep in it. I'll even wash the sheets of the bed I made.

Update: Clean Slate achieved. 5:56 GMT.