The Exam... Yes, THAT Exam

Today I had my very first prostate exam. And now I have a message for any gay men who may be reading this:

Are you kidding me?!! Are you freaking kidding me?!!! And that was only a finger!!! Are you kidding me?!!!

I didn't even see it coming. One minute the doctor and I were having a pleasant conversation. I was telling him how I just wanted to have a regular checkup like any guy my age would have. And then the next thing I know, he snaps those gloves on his hands, my pants come down around my ankles, and I'm bent over crying like Nancy Kerrigan: "WHY?!!! WHY?!!! WHY?!!!! WHY?!!!!"

Actually that might be a bit of an exaggeration.

I didn't cry.

I was in too much shock to cry.

But I'll tell you what I did do. I tried to think of the most friendly, non-threatening thing I could imagine. You wanna know what I put into my brain while it was happening?

You really wanna know?

Here's what I was thinking. Here's what I put into my brain:

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

That was it. That's what I said over and over to myself while the breach was in progress. That was my defense mechanism.

I don't know why I made myself think that. Maybe because it's better than some of the alternatives:

Squeal boy! SQUEAL!!!! I said SQUEEEEAAAAAL!!!!!

Y-M-C-A! It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A! You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal, you can do whatever you feel...

Oh Mandy, well you came and you gave without takin', but I sent you away oh Mandy...

And then the doctor starts squirming the end of his finger around and says, "Well, it's nice and smooth. No nodules or anything. Your prostate is a little on the large size though."

Now somebody please tell me how you can get all of that information just by wiggling your finger. When the electricity at my house goes out, I can't tell whether I'm holding a box of matches or a can of tuna in the dark. And that's using all ten fingers. So how can they describe your prostrate by using just the tip of their finger? And not even the whole finger. Just the tip! It's like he puts his finger in there and says, "Aha! Six more weeks of winter!"

I think they're making it all up. I really do! I think they're like those archaeologist guys on the Discovery Channel. You've seem 'em. They're standing on some random patch of dirt and they say things like...

"Right here is where the ancient Mayans had their sleeping quarters. They used bunk beds. And we know this because we found some rocks in this spot."

Then they walk five feet away and say, "And over here is where they had a bath house and an altar where they sacrificed virgins and an eat-in kitchen where they made avocado dip. We base this on that fact that a cat skull was discovered nearby."

And you're sitting there on your couch, and all you can see is a bunch of dirt. How do they know all this? They don't! They're just making this shit up!

But we believe it. Yes, we fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Why? Because what's the alternative? Listening to a family of breeders who squeeze out 20 children like Pez and then get their own reality television show and insist that the earth is only 5000 years old because that's what a guy in polyester pants told them in Sunday School? Sorry, I'm taking sides with the archaeologist making things up. At least he has a notebook.

And another thing! Who crowned Nancy Grace Queen of the Amber Alert?!

And why don't people who live in the South know how to merge into traffic?!

And when is Microsoft going to fix that one bug that gives you a message that says, "Hey! You're computer is screwed up! We're gonna shut your computer down now because we're lazy slackasses who don't want to spend any time fixing bugs!"

And why didn't I think of the ShamWow first?

......................I know I'm getting a little off track here. Sorry. I'm just trying to forget about the fact that a guy had his finger up my butthole today........................

And another thing! Why can't I find anyone to buy my house?!

And who leaves a full diaper sitting in the middle of a parking lot?!

And how come that one guy on The Biggest Loser looks like a set of window blinds made out of fat?!

And why do I have 4 tons of laundry to do every week if I always wear the same thing 3 days in a row?!...........