Besides my annual bouts with bronchitis and my annual "i can't sleep plz give me ambien" visits, I haven't had a real legitimate reason to visit the doctor my whole life. This streak came to an end today. To satisfy your curiosity, I'm fine.

Anyways, the checkup went pretty normal; the doctor turned it into a physical halfway through. I don't know why or how, but my sexual orientation was questioned. When I said I was straight the doctor gave me this "Yeah, right" look. Why do I feel like my sexual orientation is always in question?????? Be it friends, coworkers... now doctors. Sighmuffins.

Anyways, I was able to pee on command, so I was pretty pumped about that. I was feeling pretty victorious about my little cup of pee (I had actually peed before I left for the doctor, so this was an epic feat of kidney and bladder control), when the doctor told me to go down to the end of the hallway to fill out some "paperwork."

I figure it's some crap since I'm a new patient, so I sit down and wait patiently.

A guy in a big white labcoat calls me into the room (warning?). I sit down. I begin to wonder why there's no files or file cabinets in this room. I sit down in this big gray chair. The guy in the big white labcoat spins around in his chair and puts on some latex gloves (with the little satisfying "snap").

Wait a frickin' second. I look to my right. Vials. Of blood. The lab tech folds down the arm of the chair. He grabs an elastic rubber band.

WAIT A FRICKIN' SECOND. THIS ISN'T A PAPERWORK ROOM. IT'S A BLOOD ROOM. FRICKIN VAMPIRES!!!!!

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely hate needles. See the bolded text? Wait, I can express my hatred more semantically in HTML: I hate needles.

The last (only) time I've had a needle stuck in me was in high school, when I was giving a physical for track. By my calculations, that was 9 years ago. I've avoided getting a physical since then; not only cause I'm in tip-top sexy physical shape, but because I hate needles (and the ball grabbing + coughing thing, that really sucks).

For the record, I don't pass out or whine or cry or get super light-headed or anything ... the before and after are more what bugs me. For example, I'm sitting here, sitting gingerly, because I'm afraid of I extend my arm, my arm will start spouting blood like the fountains in front of Bellagio. And when I see too much blood, I may pass out.

Anyways, those bastards stole some of my blood. They TRICKED me!!!!

The upside... two weeks from now I get to find out there's absolutely nothing wrong with me (I hope).