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 ofwash-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 pointsare 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, andthat 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???