Annual physical tomorrow and, realizing I have hit that 40 year milestone in life, I am terrified that I may just have a date with ‘Dr. Jellyfinger’ for the very first time.
I can already hear those weak, smug, totally-not-consoling words of advice from ‘Doc McStuffins’ during my exam.
“Breathe easy?”
“Just relax?”
“It’s all your fault this is happening”
“Don’t tell anyone because no will believe you anyway…you slut”
Spare me, ‘Ben Dover’. It’s bad enough your office is behind a dumpster in downtown Lowell and now you are about to make me feel like I am the lone resident of Sanduskyville.
Do not utter the words ‘LOOK, NO HANDS’! during any part of the ‘invasion’. You got that, ‘Feelgood, MD.’?
Until tomorrow, ‘Rear Admiral’, you keep those mitts of yours clean, safe and gentle. (and, if at all possible, maybe you could shrink them down to, say, Carny size? Thanks!)
“Rectum? Nearly killed him!”
Can I Be Frank & Crew? 