I saw Bob last night, arm in arm with a really rough-looking, quite unattractive younger fellow who could have only been one of those guys from Craig’s List who advertises free special servicing to older gents. “What a slut,” I thought to myself, and then opened the door to Magnet where Chris and I were going to find out about the milky discharge seeping from one of my special places. The doctor kept saying “Gonorrhea” and “Chlamydia,” until I interrupted and asked, “Wait a minute, Doc, you keep saying ‘gonorrhea’ and ‘chlamydia’–can this be something else? Like something I got from a toilet seat, or a swimming pool? Can one get gonorrhea or chlamydia spontaneously?” He described a scenario in which a bacterium other than the ones that cause gonorrhea and chlamydia could have wiggled its way up my urinary tract and caused the infection, a scenario that pretty accurately described the conditions of Saturday night at BC’s. Whew. I had thought I was just really excited the past few days. It was only when the evidence of that supposed excitement continued appearing inappropriately and long after any kind of stimulating interaction that I got concerned. Lucky for BC it’s probably not gonorrhea or chlamydia, or he’d have some serious explaining to do. We can’t have relations for 3 days, so I’m looking forward to a nice quiet weekend for a change.
Tales of Post-Twinkie Ennui