There are things that women go through that men absolutely have no idea about, and vice versa. This is, I’m pretty sure, in a large part due to the fact that if we all knew everything about each other, we’d be so revolted that the species as a whole would quickly drop off. My ex girlfriend told me that when a woman is giving birth that it’s quite common for them (doctors, hopefully) to slice her, beav to asshole, to get the baby out. Apparently women know this, but let me tell you, men don’t. There’s a good reason for this. Women really need to be prepared for something that fucking horrifying and should probably begin preparing as soon as they can locate their pussies and assholes on a map, while men are probably better off just being surprised at the last possible second. Finding this information out shocked me, to be sure, and of course, since I’ve recently had a child, I got the full skinny on the ass to beav slicing…It’s not really encouraged any more, they prefer natural tearing (jesus fucking Christ…that doesn’t exactly sound pleasant either) but it’s called an episiotomy, and it apparently (and unsurprisingly) makes shitting quite difficult. Now, my baby was born with none of these unfortunate and painful sounding situations, so in theory, I could still be blissfully unaware of tearing, incontinence, episiotomies and so forth. BUT, I do know, and now you all know too.
Ladies, here’s what happens to men—Our balls stick to our legs. About a billion times a day our balls glom onto our inner thighs like a wacky wall walker (that’s for those of you who were kids in the early 80’s…for those of you who are younger, a wacky wall walker is this spider like toy that you throw at a wall that then sticks to the wall much in the same way that the human ballsack clings to the human thigh). About fifty percent of our time that’s spent with our hands down our pants is spent detaching our balls from our thighs. It’s no episiotomy, sure, but ladies, did you know about that? Did you? Huh…I guess some people call this “bat wings” because it makes your balls look like a bat or something, but I think that’s childish, and besides, bat wings is what you get when you fuck a woman who’s just had a dump deposited in her vagina (which is done by a process known as ‘space docking’ due to the difficulty of lining up the orifices). “Dude, I totally got my batwings from the lunch lady last night after Fernando and her space docked in the walk in cooler!” is a nice way to use this in a sentence, but alas, I’m off topic.
So, last night, I’m in bed and my balls are stuck to my leg and I’m doing my best to convince my wife to dislodge them for me, because, well, everyone knows what dislodging a sweaty ballsack can lead to, right? So I’m using my sexiest moves, saying things like “hey, my balls are stuck to my leg. Little help?” And finally, she caves, just for the dislodging, mind you. How she could have resisted me at that point is a topic for another day. Anyway, immediately after, she rolls over, and with a tone that could only be accurately described as mildly grossed out, she says “you’re lucky you have me.” This is true, but I don’t want her knowing that I know that, so I say “why?” and she says, get this! That there’s no one else out there who would dislodge my ‘gross’ sack from my thigh. HA!
I told her that there are literally thousands of men and women out there who are just dying for a chance to unstick, or peel my balls off my thigh, and she just rolled her eyes at me. So, I told her I was going to open it to the public.
SO, here’s the deal: Essay contest (open to residents of north America, Europe, Africa, asia and south America (no islanders, sorry) why you’d like to help me dislodge my stuck balls. It can be as long or as short as you want it to be (the essay, smartguy) and it’s open to anyone, males and females and trannies over the age of 18, because it would just be creepy otherwise. The winner gets a bad sandwich teeshirt if I ever end up making those, the satisfaction of vanquishing a ton of foes and maybe a beer or something. Unfortunately, actually unsticking my ballsack is a reward that is reserved just for me and my wife and when I’m on tour, our roadie, so there can be none of that, but maybe we can work out a simulation with a wacky wall walker and a sigh of satisfaction from me.
Just post em in the comments. Hmmm….You know what? I think this is the best entry ever.