Recently, a college kid reached out to me for help with a school project. Let’s face it—when the professor hands down an important project that may have a direct impact on your entire future, the first thing that runs through your mind is Stevey P!

This kid gave me a call and we talked for a while. With my very limited knowledge and attention span, I answered his questions about opening and running a gym as best as I could. I must really know my shit because today he shot me an email:

Hey big Steve,

I got my grade back for the paper that I wrote on the interview…I got a 100 percent. I think I was the only A+ in the class. The teacher loved it and made me share part of it with the class. Just wanted to let you know. Thanks again. Hopefully, I’ll get out to Iron Sport soon.

— Andrew

That’s right—an A+, bitches. I’m like the God damn Cliff Notes of the gym biz. I made this kid smarter than the love child of the Thinker and Jen Petrosino. The ironic part is I couldn’t get an A+ when I was in school even if I had blown the teacher while shoving hundred dollar bills up his ass. But then again, they didn’t make us write term papers in my classes. Come to think of it, they didn’t let us physically handle paper for fear that we would hurt ourselves with it.

Let’s talk about my prostate for a minute...

OK, this story may be kind of tough to read for some guys, especially if you're squeamish. Some of you know that I've been dealing with an enlarged prostate for a couple years now. It’s more annoying than anything else—frequent urges, weak stream, getting up a lot at night. Medication starting doing less and less, and the side effects of that stuff wasn’t exactly a picnic. My doctor had mentioned performing a procedure called TURP that involves going in with a scary laser and melting the extra unwanted prostate into vapor, therefore relieving the pressure on my urethra and bladder. Hey girls, are you absolutely gushing yet?

Yesterday, I went in for another exam. The doctor decided that he wanted to take a good, long look down my pee hole (I'm pretty sure that’s the medical term) with a camera to see exactly what he was dealing with. I immediately broke out into an intense sweat and was almost positive that I could smell my own ass. I was all ready for the back door invasion test, but I wasn’t expecting this full frontal assault. And to think I wasted $50 getting my asshole bleached for nothing.

The pretty young nurse gave me directions to pull my pants and underwear down and sit up on the table, as she was going to do the prep work on my wang. She grasped it lovingly, shot some Lidocaine into the hole, and clamped it off so that the numbing agent didn’t go all the way in. I’m sure that me sitting there sweating with my pants around my ankles and sporting the smallest mushroom in the history of penises was a real sexy look. This goes for all guys. Let’s just say that your dick has three basic modes—erect, flaccid,  and someone is about to slide an eighteen-inch camera as thick as a pencil into your dick hole. I told the girl, "Please, do not judge me on this situation. I swear that it’s never this small. I have the selfies in my phone to prove it!"

The doctor got the camera ready. It was a flexible tube with a camera lens attached to it. He casually snaked it down in there. Man, did that feel weird! He had all but about four inches of that thing in there and was kind of fishing it around a bit as I just sat there horrified. He pulled it out, and the nurse lovingly cleaned up what was left of my frightened little turtle.

The doctor then said that I was a perfect candidate for the TURP surgery and went over some of the specifics. He first told me that he would be performing the procedure through my dick hole (the poor little guy). Then, of course, he told me about all the shit that could go wrong during this particular procedure—penile bleeding, intense pain for weeks, various sexual problems, and the chance that it wouldn't completely relieve all my symptoms. I'd also have to wear a catheter for a few days afterward. Whatever! Bring this shit on damn it.

The procedure is set for November 7. It’s just a simple outpatient ordeal, and this gives me time to have the words “Be Careful” shaved into my pubes.

It was just a tweet people. Get over it.

About a month ago, I tweeted a very harmless joke that I made up...note the word joke. A group of women got all up in arms and discussed “taking me down.” First, I’ll tell you the tweet: “Do all these chicks really have a rape fantasy or have I just been raping a lot of women lately? This shit is confusing.”

Let me just say that I've seen some women write some sick shit on Twitter including posting pictures of themselves getting fisted and worse. Of course, I'm not running around raping women. It was just a tasteless joke like the other ten million tasteless tweets on Twitter every day.

Some women from a Strongwoman Facebook group that must follow me on Twitter saw it and are convinced that I am a rapist and a cyber bully, that I condone rape, and that I need to be stopped before I rape again.

When I found this out I graciously removed the offensive tweet, immediately.  But that wasn’t good enough. They ended up screen shooting it everywhere my name appears on the internet or something. I still haven’t seen it because I do not read internet forums.

I guess they haven’t looked at the many tweets, Facebook posts, Instagram pictures, and elitefts™ posts where I have coached, supported, and promoted many female athletes. It’s only Twitter, like MANY things on Twitter it’s not meant to offend anyone  and it’s a shame it over shadows the many positive things that I have said and done for female strength athletes.

Of course, their group page is secret so only about four of them are in on this.

I've only received word of this third hand because they've emailed female friends of mine to register their disgust. I was told that this secret Strongwoman society was going to take me down and knock me off my high horse. Really? My high horse? They must be talking about the uncomfortable stool that I sit on when I work at the gym fourteen hours a day making no money. I can see how that can be considered a high horse. So take your best shot girls. I have nowhere to go but up. Whoever you are. By the way, follow me on Twitter @StevePulcinella!

Steve P fun fact: I always hated Halloween even when I was a kid. I thought it was stupid. Discuss.