Week 9: Facial, Hot Dogged and VD Free

What a fucking week. I have no idea how to summarize in one paragraph the events that occurred, aside from the title its self. So, I hope that can hook you enough to read about my ridiculous week.

At this point, most of the events early in the week have lost themselves in my mind. I moved into my new room, worked on a few writings, had a few casual business meetings at coffee shops. Then on Tuesday my friend sees me at the coffee shop and asks me if I want a free facial. She works at a spa around the corner and needs someone to try out some new techniques. I’ve never had a facial before, and I know they cost quite a bit of money and I agree to do so on the novelty of getting a facial. I mean, last week I lived in a tipi, this week I get a free facial.

Not much to say about the facial other than I didn’t expect it to feel so great. I didn’t care much for the oils and face mask part, I have really good skin anyway, but the massage part of it felt fucking fantastic. I felt sort of like a king in this fourth story, upscale spa.

So the next day I feel on top of the world. I get invited to a movie night with some of my anti-civ primitive skills friends. Our plan involved cooking some food over a fire and watching Road Warrior, which to my surprise many had not seen. We started the fire and one of my friend begins to roast some dumpster dived hot dogs. I brought over some blue corn chips and proceed to eat like half the bag, then stuff two of the dumpster dived hot dogs down my throat. Then for some reason I drank like 5 pint glasses of water in a short amount of time. I felt my stomach starting to freak out. We ended up just sitting around the camp fire and chatting rather than watch the movie.

At 6am, after a night of writhing in sleepless pain, I started puking. I remembered that puking sober doesn’t feel as nice as puking drunk. For the next two days I basically laid in bed hallucinating something about the music playing on my laptop, nothing I can remember now but made no sense to me even at the time. I woke up the next day two large white spots on the sides of my tongue (and now I’ll get reeeal personal) two red bumps on the tip of my dick! Yikes!

So, between the end of my first relationship to the begining of my second I slept around quite a bit. I had a lot of random, drunken, unprotected, unrememberable, totally, totally stupid sex. Though I had the same partner for over the last year, I also know that certain STI’s (the newer hipper term for STD’s) can lay dormant in the body for up to several years! My thinking went like this, “Fuck! I must have caught something, and this food poisoning has weekend my immune system enough for it to show symptoms. God, why the fuck did I do that! I’m such a fucking idiot. I’ve ruined my goddamn life!”

I immediately rode my bike to the free health clinic in downtown Portland. I went in and was like, “I have food poisoning… and red bumps on my dick.” Haha. The doc was like, “Okay… we can only treat one of those today. Which would you like? There’s probably nothing we can do about the food poisoning…”

I told her I’d like to be tested for everything, except the one where they shove a Q-tip up your penis and rotate it for like 30 seconds. So they take my blood and piss and send it through the lab and I’m clean. She says the red bumps are not an STI, but just a derma-something-logic response, probably related to the food poisoning and will go away in a few days. I forgot to tell her about the white tongue but it was gone by then anyway and Willem told me it was “thrush,” the oral form of Candidiasis, which would make sense.

Other than that insanity, I’ve just been settling into my new room trying to map out a new routine to “get things done.” Pretty much failed the laundry list again, so I don’t even think I’m going to write it out here cause I’m lazy today. If you noticed I didn’t even write in E-prime and I didn’t even edit it.

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