The post below about people dancing like fucktards, and it’s connection to Vman, and one of his recent posts, brought a harmonic conversion of sorts which led me to this post.

Shut up, I’m tired.

Anyway, I had, for a while, an Indian physician. She was ncie enough, and very pretty, and I have to admit I’ve always wanted to hit me some indian chick. I think it’s the way they dance, those fucktarded dancers. THe days when that is possible are over, behind me forever. On the other hand, there was always the possibility this woman might have to give me a shortarm inspection, and the thought of her hands cupped around the boys saying, in her mild accent, “My, what an enormous scrotum you have!” gave me more than one major woodie.

One day she showed up in her surgery with the tightest pair of pants, showing off the most hideous granny-panty lines, and I decided that wasn’t for me. And I changed doctors.

Anyway, that brought me around to the fact that I only ever had one shortarm inspection ever, and that was from the local doctor- whose kid attended school with me- and it was to be allowed to play sports. Old Dr M- made me drop trou and reached in and jammed his fat boogerhooks up my inguinal canal, suggested I cough, and as I felt his hot breath onmy naked belly,, smelled the Alberto VO-5, the cheap booze… I decided I wasn’t interested in having a man touch me again, if I could help it. Been saving myself for Vman ever since.