I am a frustrating singalong

I haven't even been able to keep up with myself in the past month. Much less let you in on all the magnificent details...

How can I make it up to you?

Oh wait! I have something cool to say.

I took an AIDS test last week. Why? No, I haven't been living riotously or dabbling with unsafe needles. It's simply part of the procedure I have to undergo when applying for entry into God's Last Endtime Army.

Right. So I went in for testing. Sweaty palmed, dry tongued. I'm terrified of their bloodsucking, see? It's alright to get shots, heck, I'll even subject myself to the occasional tattoo....it's when they start taking stuff from me, stuff that's not theirs in the first place, that I start to feel not quite right.

Like, unconsciously, not quite right. Like, Seriously.

Put it this way. Last time I got an AIDS test I passed out....twice. Freaks.

This time, I'm at the usual introductions. They're asking me all sorts of intimate things about my life and I'm replying with all the usual sarcasm and chuckles.
I'm about sick by now, wishing they'd stop being so damn sadistic and just stick me with their torture prods and be done already when The Ethnic Angel calmly rips open a package and tells me to rub a cotton swab over my gums and "will I be prepared to receive the results in 20 minutes?"

What the...?

HECK YEA!!

I'm positive I'm negative (no duh) and I'll be durned if I couldn't take one everyday! End of the World, Force to Be Reckoned With, prepare yourself for my entry!