go go

Yes, they put a camera inside me, and yes they used the, uh, ventral entrance. Which just seemed a little over the top to me. Sort of like Tim Robbins' escape from prison in Shawshank Redemption--they had to take the long, narrow, secret passageway. At present I'm still waiting to find out what they saw in there.

Adjusted number of female nurses who have NOW seen my junk: 5 (and once the pictures get uploaded that number's going to explode). The only other thing I have to say about the cystoscopy/catheter is that it hurt when I came to--but not that bad--and for the surgery I was in a chair almost identical to a gynecologist's chair. I only know what one of those looks like because Matt D. and I had one in our apartment that we shared with Dusty A.

Traveler friend Matt K. was in town and we did this and that, including my first stop ever at a go-go bar. These things don't really excite me, in fact they kind of give me the willies, to be honest, but I was really curious and wanted to at least see what one looks like. So we stepped into one just to have a butcher's. Having been a McDonalds worker at the tender age of 15, I would like to draw the following parallel: A bad lead singer of a band holds onto the microphone stand much like a freshman holds onto his beer at his first frat party; much like a bored but tender McDonalds employee holds onto the cash register; much like those girls were holding onto their poles.

Anyway. 15 seconds and we were out. So it's not like I've really experienced Gomorrah, but at least now I know where to bring the parents when they visit.

Oh, and here's to Thailand for being the only South Asian country (according to Matt) where people don't use their car horns to communicate everything. Silence is golden.