Ach! Mein knipples!

I have often said that men might be better humans if our genitalia were a bit more high maintenance.

We're lucky in that respect, it's pretty much a  matter of wash-n-go.

Any significant problems that we have are of our own doing.

Or of doing someone we shouldn't have.

But that's not my point.

My points are my point.

Having gotten to a point (!) where I spend an hour at a time on the treadmill, I have come to accept as inevitable the fact that a wet t-shirt rubbing up and down will irritate certain points of my chest.

I always figured it was better than not exercising, and in a weird way it keeps me on a straighter moral path. There's no sense misbehaving (for money) when it would be painful for me (for a change), and I'd be the one saying "No, please, my nipples are tender." Of course, I can't say that in Cantonese or Mandarin.

Now that I realize I cannot say it, that means I can't hear it, and that may explain a few unfortunate moments...

Never mind that.

I wondered why so many people were giving me funny looks in the gym today.

Then I looked in the mirror.







My nipples were bleeding.

Too bad my favorite lesbian Crush Object wasn't working; we might have had some kind of uber-weird bonding moment somewhere in the demilitarized zone between Male and Female.

On one level this is so grossly embarrassing that I can't imagine why I am posting it.

Then again, how can I not post photos of my own bloody nipples? If that's not a blog subject, what the hell is???