So, back up to the VA hospital today. Some alarming news. Remains to be verified. I could give a hearty shit.
I listened to Rush on the way up, and the susurrations of my own brain on the way back. Sometimes it is good to just commune with your own id, introduce it to your subconcious, and listen to the music of the tires and the windshield wipers.
And drink two 24 ounce Old English 800's in a big-ass 52 ounce travel mug you bought at Target today, for just such an occasion, to keep the super ego happy.
It is possible my pretty lady doctor will have her finger up my ass, soon, so I want to buy her a double espresso, beforehand, that said finger might vibrate, as it probes my prostate.
Oh, do not confuse her with a real doctor. She is a medical student. Should I need a real doctor, I would like to assume that they keep one behind glass, which to break, in case of emergency.
Ah well, as I've said, you get what you pay for, and what I get is gloriously free. They even pay me mileage for showing up. Thanks for the beer money, America!
So, there you are. A peek up my skirt. Sorry about the skidmarks.
Wanna see my tits?