ok, this one here's for all the ladies out there. i'm going to let you in on a little secret. ready. ok. here goes. there is no such thing as blue balls. never has been. you know how i know. well, a couple of reasons. first, i own a set and they've been through all kinds of trauma and abuse and they have never, ever taken on such a jaundiced hue. second, i've seen every In Search Of ever made and nimoy never tackled this mythic beast which pretty much confirms the veracity of the whole deal for me.

now we know all kinds of guys are going to come crawling out of the morass saying i'm wrong and that they've had them or their cousin had them or this guy up in canada got em once and how they were wicked terrible and ached so. it's bullshit. don't believe a word of it. it is a male-wide conspiracy to dupe women into granting favors of the flesh that they may otherwise be disinclined to provide. i mean believe me, i've been tormented, turned down, and left in quite a state by an inordinate number of ladies all over the planet and my sack has never gone through such permutations.

now here's the deal, should a guy try to work this con on you, ask them what the remedy is. when they say it is to get some relief, bust one or flush the tanks, tell them that they are probably more qualified to address the issue than yourself and they should go to the john or behind the bushes and handle their bidnez. because, you see, even if there was such an affliction no one ever said that a woman had to be the one to extract the demons. hell, i know a doctor that will give you a a prostate massage to the point of climax. send them there and see if the mere thought of a gloved hand two feet up their ass corrects their mood.

and since i believe in being thorough, let's say the above tactic doesn't take. tell the guy you'll help him out but that you are a little trepidatious given the colony of warts on your hands, the chancre sores in your mouth and the odoriferous yellow-green discharge your girlfriend said you should have checked out by a professional. if they're still game after that, run. run like hell. don't stop, don't look back. just run.

in attempt to explain some of my lunacy, i've told you how my mom works in the sexually transmitted division of the centers for disease control and some of the traumatizing events to come about from this affiliation (as in, monstrously large and mangled penises painted on our living room wall). should this confession not sway you in my direction, see how they celebrate christmas in the aniseptic corridors of their building as carolers in white lab coast made their rounds last week.

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a little luvin’ under the tree.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two itchy bumps from that little luvin’ under the tree.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me three french kisses, two itchy bumps, it’s some sort of STD.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the fifth day of Christmas my doctor said to me … Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the sixth day of Christmas my doctor gave to me six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love came to me – “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the eighth day of Christmas my ture love gave to me – a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the ninth day of Christmas my doctor said to me try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-mydi-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the tenth day of Christmas the CIS came to me “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the eleventh day of Christmas the CIS gave to me eleven HIV tests, “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

On the twelfth day of Christmas I got just me twelve latex condoms, eleven HIV tests, “tell me ten sex partners”, try doxycycline, a case of herpes, “how ‘bout a quickie?”, six penicillin, Chla-myid-a, one clinic visit, three french kisses, two itchy bumps and some sort of STD.

after getting home from our nightly trek to girl fighting park, bella and i were met at the door by a sour-faced marty. e-love can't play tennis tonight, she told me. suck. do you want to know why? damn straight i want to know why his slacking ass is dogging at the last minute on a previously scheduled tennis night because i'm getting a little fed up with it. he's at the hospital. oh.

it seems that while at an outdoor event earlier in the day e passed out in the bleachers. while his wife was tending to this he started having seizures (allow me to add that he wasn't off the hook on tennis prior to this). it would also seem that a byproduct of said seizures is he made a little wee-wee in his shorts*. later at the hospital as the doctors were in e's room discussing the issue, they repeatedly used the phrase "urinary incontinence" in discussing his condition. every time the white coats referred to this love frustratedly proclaimed from his bed, "hey guys, it's called pissing my pants, you can just say 'he pissed his pants' or if you prefer, 'the subject then pissed his pants'."

man do i adore e-love.

* now something to understand about my friend is that he rarely wears underwear. i am a great proponent of this behavior and know few sound reasons to refute the practice, until now. had e been wearing an appropriate undergarment, it would have added some bounty-like absorption power to the equation, but with this missing apparel his shorts were forced to shoulder the full aquatic burden thus making the mishap appear a little more voluminous than may have been necessary. note to self, wear thick cotton boxers when going to an outdoor dog show in st louis during the summertime.

as a side-note and to add scientific validity to this story (b/c this site is all about scientific validity), it was explained to e that the seizure occurred because after he passed out he was in a sitting position and when blood could not get to his brain, his body freaked out in attempt to get him flat. furthermore, this particular doctor said that this is also why you don't see standing, enclosed phone booths anymore. because, people would pass out in them due to heat, stuffiness, whatever and then would go into seizures because they couldn't lie flat and would oftentimes hurt themselves by hitting their heads against the glass/metal. fact, fiction or urban legend. that's for you to decide.

i've not wanted something to be true this much since i heard that the don johnson music video collection was coming out in DVD. please, please, please let it be true! thanks pegster.

I spoke to Bosnia Chris today over his web phone and had commented on the recent update where they were climbing up some mountain and one of the people took a tumble and cut his wrist impressively open [photo not for the weak of gut]. I conveyed to Chris that had this happened to me, a flight for life chopper would have had to escort me to the nearest trauma center. He simply laughed it off and said how they didn't have a first aid kit and had to improvise. Their makeshift solution began with a tampon, which was applied directly to the wound and served as the initial gauze. This was followed up with a wrap of toilet paper and then a sandwich bag to keep all the fixings in place. Once applied Chris escorted his mate down the mountain and to more traditional medical care.

I asked how he could not divulge those details when retelling the story on the web. He said that he didn't feel comfortable putting the word tampon on his site (tampon, tampon, tampon). After calling him gutless I said that I would share this juicy detail on my own in that I've already freely used the term (tampon, tampon, tampon) a number of times and it appears in my working journal an additional 24 times.

Furthermore, I'm not sure how I would have fared in this fellow's situation. You see, I have a immense phobia towards this and other like hygiene products. If you've ever meandered down the pink and blue isle at the supermarket or department store, the smell emanating from these shrink-wrapped packages is just not right. It's like in math where two negatives make a positive. The stuff is just too clean, too natural that they are actually unclean and unnatural. But, in typical fashion I believe in getting in the face of that which terrifies you/me and this is my vehicle for this aggressive posturing. Man, just imagine if I was born a non-tripod.

New York Native (nation's most influential gay newspaper), August 24, 1981
Warning to the gay community from columnist Larry Kramer after the first AIDS cases, yet to be named such, were being reported around the country.

Given my newfound pastime of dodging warm torrents of urine while trying to change a diaper, I thought the following Prolapsed article was rather fitting. Dr. Williams has enabled me to enter this secluded form of trench warfare with a light mind. You don?t know how appreciative I am Steven.

I have always been very particular about both who/what I touch and what/who touches me. I eat pizza and fries with a fork, pour movie popcorn in my mouth and hit hand dryers in the bathroom with my clothed elbow. Now I know why, I'm just protecting one of my most valuable organs. Still not convinced, let Dr. Stevie have a crack in our second installment of his maneater column Prolapsed.

A friend of mine wrote a column for his university paper while in med school a few years back. i remember following his work via the web while he was at it and enjoyed the articles very much. i happened upon them the other day and thought that you all would find his wit as entertaining as i did. therefore, i will be offering them up from time to time for your amusement and edification. the first selected installment, A Probing Issue deals with the digestive tract, something we all use and also take for granted. carry on and happy digesting.

at a wedding the other night (congrats john and sacha), i surprisingly found myself in a discussion about circumcision. after a young woman said that she would absolutely cut any boys she had, i proffered the standard "if you circumcise your boys, you must also circumcise your girls." this is usually enough to fluster even the most steady-witted of women. she turned to me and very calmly replied (and i paraphrase but you'll get the gist):

"well, unless i'm mistaken, the women of this society have been both mentally and emotionally circumcised by the patriarchal founders of our culture."

this retort went on but my head was reeling for a worthy reply (none was had) but i capitulate and extend kudos to the most creative piece of social banter i've encountered this year. thanks for the humor michelle.