There’s something wrong with me.

Really, there is.

Maybe you know this already.

Example: I had Proxy Paige in the studio last week to shoot a scene for Manojob. She’s the new gal on the block. One of many. Lately, it seems, there’s a ton of heets coming to Porno Land, and Proxy’s just one. (Wait til you get a load of her real-life roomie Lilly LaBeau).

Proxy struts into my studio, and my wiener is stiff from the get-go. She’s really cute n’ bubbly. She’s all smiles n’ giggles. She’s sweet n’ sassy.

I have no idea what’s up with the “n’s” — but I have noticed them a lot lately in a ton of different marketing campaigns: Suds n’ Duds, Mike n’ Ike, Stop n’ Go.

After, say, 10 minutes I tell Proxy, “I really like you, so better watch out, cause I might get all Pervy n’ Creepy.”

“I like pervs. I used to work at a porn shop.”

Turns out Proxy’s from my neck of the woods: Arizona. Specifically, Scottsdale AZ. And the store she used to work at — Zorba’s — has been in the same place since, like, 1976. When I was in high school all my jock buddies would jump into a truck and, wasted on whatever we could get our hands on, would crash the place late nights and hit the movie booths.

Drop a few tokens into the slot n’ howl.

No, it wasn’t a circle jerk. But there were always fags cruising the place.

No random hate crimes either. We’d just laugh at them and make stupid, loud comments until management tossed us out.

I dunno what we woulda done if Proxy Paige asked us to leave.

I did know what do to when Proxy (while waiting to get her make-up done) told me she loved things up her butt.

“May I stick my finger up it?” I asked.

Proxy pulled her panties down, told me to stick my finger out, and then she backed up on it. It slid right in, and her butt hole was warm n’ fuzzy and it felt as good as I’d imagine the inside of her vagina would feel. She giggled, and then she took a few steps forward.

My finger was clean as a whistle. And it smelled like Easter. Tasted even better.

After we shot her scene, Proxy said, “I gotta go pee.”

“Right here,” I replied, and pointed to my mouth.

Proxy smiled. She said something like, “are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

About this time Steve Steele and his crew march in. They’re gonna make another porno masterpiece. I make Niceties and grab Proxy by the arm and march her into the bathroom. I peel off my clothes. I lay on my back. Proxy squats over my mouth and unleashes a mighty stream of piss.

I jerk like a monkey in the zoo.

What’s wrong with me?

Wait a sec…didn’t I ask you that once already?

I mean clinically, of course. So I Google “aroused by urine” and I find Facts about why we should kills fags. On this informative site, I discover “29% of fags engage in urine sex (“golden showers”)”. I also find the term “Urophilia” which I knew about before I went there.

So I Google “Urophilia” and the first hit takes me to The Depression Guide.

The Depression Guide? WTF?

I’m not depressed. I mean I have good days and bad days — just like you. But “depressed”? Cause I’m laying on the bathroom floor, and Proxy Paige is squatting over me, and she’s laughing hysterically?

What part of that do you find depressing? Cause I can’t find a hint of anything even remotely close to it.

And, according to this “Depression Guide”, I have “a mental and behavioral problem and caused due to neurological problem or brain dysfuction.” In addition, a “yellow hanky is the indication of urophilia in gay people.” And, finally, “Pharmacological medicines and psychotherapies are effective to control urophilia.”

I’d like to add right now my urophilia isn’t out of control. Not by a long shot.

I don’t buy anything this fucking Depression Guide has to offer, so I poke around Google some more and discover, “Shirley Manson, lead singer of the popular rock band Garbage, was quoted in an interview as saying ‘I hate boys who are frightened of pee and shit and menstrual blood… I want a man who will let me pee in his belly button’. The Garbage song When I Grow Up contains the lyrics “Happy Hours/Golden Showers”.

Well. Now I feel better.

As I’m banging this out, my family are in the next room. It’s Post-Thanksgiving. I’m trying to be social with them; in addition, Slut X is chatting me up on Yahoo’s IM. Slut X asks me, “what are you bloggin?”

“About the time Proxy Paige pee’d in my mouth,” I replied.

She said, “Ew! Pee doesn’t belong there!”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Cause, after all, happy hours mean golden showers.