- May 18, 2001
- 7,882
- 380
- 126
WARNING 1 - PLEASE READ: I asked for and received permission from the mods to post this story. They said that they would be watching this thread very closely for juvenile behavior, so please post responsibly.
WARNING 2 ? PLEASE READ: This post contains a true story that is somewhat crude in nature, and is probably offensive to those who are easily offended and also those who can?t handle Too Much Information (TMI). If you are one of these people, please discontinue reading now, and return to one of the many other fine threads offered on ATOT.
Recently I have been having some urinary tract health problems. People my age (36) get sick and die from such things, so I visited my doctor a few days ago. He scheduled me to have an ultrasound performed today. Intel had not provided me with timely information about the situation, so Fear Central was placed on ready alert.
So I arrived at the hospital and was met by a pretty little technician who introduced herself as the person who would perform my ultrasound. We went to a darkened room, where she used the ultrasound device to scan my kidneys, bladder, and all the pipes in between. All in all, Information Gathering enjoyed the educational exhibit of an ultrasound device and all the images that it produced. She finished scanning my lower abdomen, and Fear Central had begun to pack it up and go home for the night. Then she took another look at my paperwork.
The doctor had given the order to scan the Boys.
The last guy at Fear Central was about to lock the door and kill the lights when he saw the flashing warning on the screen. Command HQ immediately sent me orders to proceed with all due caution and to maintain elevated alertness at all times. A minor alarm had been raised by Embarrassment Control, but unfortunately Command HQ had disabled the audibles shortly after I had taken my spot on the comfy examination bed.
She left the room; I followed her instructions, and lay there with nothing but a sheet covering me. The dimly lit, comfortably warm room was specially designed to calm the nerves of patients like me. The paint was just the right color to pacify and relax, while overhead quiet, gentle music played from the speakers. By the time Embarrassment Control spotted the flashing red light indicating that my defenses were completely surrendered, it was nearly too late. They immediately began sending urgent but unheeded messages to Command HQ. Unfortunately, Command HQ had been infiltrated and lulled into a state of complacency by the soothing grooves of Michael Bolton. The man engine had defaulted to Primal Male Mode, and unknown to me I was in grave danger of a bodily insurrection that was outside my control.
And then she came back and the examination began. Ultrasounds sure are interesting marvels of science. The images they create are really neat to see. And that probe is a lot more comfortable and warm than one would expect. What is that stuff they put on there anyway ? KY Jelly? She sure has a gentle touch with that thing, especially considering what a sensitive area she?s scanning. Ooh look at the thing on the monitor ? is that one of the Boys? Her hands sure are soft. I bet she uses lotion. What do you know ? I can hear my heartbeat through that thing. What?s that perfume she?s wearing? It sure smells nice. Wow ? look at the blood vessels ? ultrasound is astounding, I say! I hadn?t noticed it before, but she?s kind of cute. I bet I could see the top of the mountain if she leaned over a little more. It would be nice if she would slide the wand to the left just a little. I wonder what she would look like in nothing but a thong?
And then it happened ? a team of commandos from Embarrassment Control smashed the door down and stormed Command HQ. In a matter of moments, things began to get sorted out, and I got the urgent directive: ABORT ? ABORT ? ABORT ? AT ALL COSTS PREVENT DEPLOYMENT OF THE SENSOR ARRAY. REPEATING ? DO ANYTHING NECESSARY TO PREVENT DEPLOYMENT.
Holy crap ? where had my head been??? I instantly snapped back to reality and got briefed by Emergency Measures on the situation that was arising. I was quickly approaching Code Red, and there were very few statistical models predicting success in an abort attempt at this point. Sensing my desperate situation, the guys over in Creative Reasoning took over.
Baseball. Football. Hockey. Dead puppies. No, dead, putrid, rotting puppies. With little bloated bellies. Betty Davis in a g-string. Ex-governor Gray Davis in a g-string. Great Charlie Sheen movies I?ve seen this week. Jessica Alba naked. No no no, dammit!!! More Betty Davis in a g-string required, stat! Greek mathematical equations I?ve never solved. The haunting cry of the North American loon. Ice cream. Mmmm? I like ice cream. Steak? I like steak too? I wonder how ice cream and steak would go together? I sure am hungry? I think I?ll hit Hardees once this is over. A six-dollar burger would be great.
The guys in Emergency Measures breathed a collective sigh of relief as the brewing storm passed without incident. Thoughts of food seemed to always correct these situations. All systems went into immediate stand-down, and I got to retain as much of my dignity as possible.
My will is triumphant.
WARNING 2 ? PLEASE READ: This post contains a true story that is somewhat crude in nature, and is probably offensive to those who are easily offended and also those who can?t handle Too Much Information (TMI). If you are one of these people, please discontinue reading now, and return to one of the many other fine threads offered on ATOT.
Recently I have been having some urinary tract health problems. People my age (36) get sick and die from such things, so I visited my doctor a few days ago. He scheduled me to have an ultrasound performed today. Intel had not provided me with timely information about the situation, so Fear Central was placed on ready alert.
So I arrived at the hospital and was met by a pretty little technician who introduced herself as the person who would perform my ultrasound. We went to a darkened room, where she used the ultrasound device to scan my kidneys, bladder, and all the pipes in between. All in all, Information Gathering enjoyed the educational exhibit of an ultrasound device and all the images that it produced. She finished scanning my lower abdomen, and Fear Central had begun to pack it up and go home for the night. Then she took another look at my paperwork.
The doctor had given the order to scan the Boys.
The last guy at Fear Central was about to lock the door and kill the lights when he saw the flashing warning on the screen. Command HQ immediately sent me orders to proceed with all due caution and to maintain elevated alertness at all times. A minor alarm had been raised by Embarrassment Control, but unfortunately Command HQ had disabled the audibles shortly after I had taken my spot on the comfy examination bed.
She left the room; I followed her instructions, and lay there with nothing but a sheet covering me. The dimly lit, comfortably warm room was specially designed to calm the nerves of patients like me. The paint was just the right color to pacify and relax, while overhead quiet, gentle music played from the speakers. By the time Embarrassment Control spotted the flashing red light indicating that my defenses were completely surrendered, it was nearly too late. They immediately began sending urgent but unheeded messages to Command HQ. Unfortunately, Command HQ had been infiltrated and lulled into a state of complacency by the soothing grooves of Michael Bolton. The man engine had defaulted to Primal Male Mode, and unknown to me I was in grave danger of a bodily insurrection that was outside my control.
And then she came back and the examination began. Ultrasounds sure are interesting marvels of science. The images they create are really neat to see. And that probe is a lot more comfortable and warm than one would expect. What is that stuff they put on there anyway ? KY Jelly? She sure has a gentle touch with that thing, especially considering what a sensitive area she?s scanning. Ooh look at the thing on the monitor ? is that one of the Boys? Her hands sure are soft. I bet she uses lotion. What do you know ? I can hear my heartbeat through that thing. What?s that perfume she?s wearing? It sure smells nice. Wow ? look at the blood vessels ? ultrasound is astounding, I say! I hadn?t noticed it before, but she?s kind of cute. I bet I could see the top of the mountain if she leaned over a little more. It would be nice if she would slide the wand to the left just a little. I wonder what she would look like in nothing but a thong?
And then it happened ? a team of commandos from Embarrassment Control smashed the door down and stormed Command HQ. In a matter of moments, things began to get sorted out, and I got the urgent directive: ABORT ? ABORT ? ABORT ? AT ALL COSTS PREVENT DEPLOYMENT OF THE SENSOR ARRAY. REPEATING ? DO ANYTHING NECESSARY TO PREVENT DEPLOYMENT.
Holy crap ? where had my head been??? I instantly snapped back to reality and got briefed by Emergency Measures on the situation that was arising. I was quickly approaching Code Red, and there were very few statistical models predicting success in an abort attempt at this point. Sensing my desperate situation, the guys over in Creative Reasoning took over.
Baseball. Football. Hockey. Dead puppies. No, dead, putrid, rotting puppies. With little bloated bellies. Betty Davis in a g-string. Ex-governor Gray Davis in a g-string. Great Charlie Sheen movies I?ve seen this week. Jessica Alba naked. No no no, dammit!!! More Betty Davis in a g-string required, stat! Greek mathematical equations I?ve never solved. The haunting cry of the North American loon. Ice cream. Mmmm? I like ice cream. Steak? I like steak too? I wonder how ice cream and steak would go together? I sure am hungry? I think I?ll hit Hardees once this is over. A six-dollar burger would be great.
The guys in Emergency Measures breathed a collective sigh of relief as the brewing storm passed without incident. Thoughts of food seemed to always correct these situations. All systems went into immediate stand-down, and I got to retain as much of my dignity as possible.
My will is triumphant.
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