Went yesterday to the physical therapist, and then to the osteo guy to get my stitches out (thanks for remembering not to pull the knot through, Dr K.)

The therapist: Teeny girl. Strong, though. Had to wait, what, ten minutes, but while I was waiting, I felt the gathering of an anal storm of.. well, not epic proportions, but it was gonna be bad.

So I had just stood to walk outdoors to vent, when Ms therapist walked in and led me to the room.

I could read the headlines. “Man farts, kills physical therapist, four others in building”

So i let her grill me, guide me through exercises, help me work my knee through it’s range of motion, etc. All while clenching like I never clenched before.

And I made it out ok.

Good thing, too, because the expected fart was a sample of my best work. Flies dropped out of midair. On the other hand, I was wearing shorts.

Now, I don’t wear shorts. I have a pair of pants with legs that can be unzipped, that I purchased specifically to wear to the doctor. Otherwise, shorts are for grunts who can show off their sculpted and ripped calf muscles, and those who are so light in the loafers the wind blows up their pants legs. There’s no middle of the road, there. you’re either a grunt or a faggot, if you’re a man wearing shorts in public. Being neither, I just don’t. “oh, it’s too hot” Bullshit. I wear black long pants and black longsleeved shirts in all weather, and I’m always cooler than anyone who wears shorts. And I’ve done this in Texas and Orlando in the summer’s heat.

Anyway, the shorts thing made the path from ass to nostril all too short, and even I retched a bit on my way back into the doctor’s office, where I was careful not to fart again as he was taking out my stitches.

Made access to the boys easy, though. (for me, not the doctor) I can see why the fags like ’em.