In the interest of finishing this adventure, let's simply continue...
When we last left off, I had just finished clearing the hedges with my trimmer...
Now it gets tricky.
Using a trimmer is one thing…you can hack back and forth with wild abandon. Being careful is not required with a trimmer…it’s every pube for himself.
However, this is not so much the situation when you’re staring at your penis holding a razor blade.
You get nervous.
You wonder, “What the F*CK was I thinking?!?!”.
But, it’s too late. You’ve already man-scaped your way to a look that someone could equate to a person afflicted with genital mange. You have no choice, but to press on.
This is where you have a myriad of choices:
1) With the grain?
2) Against the grain?
3) Side to side?
4) I could go for a Clark bar. I’m hungry.
5) Just the berries?
6) Just the twig?
7) Shave the twig and one berry?
8) Is “the Hitler” look acceptable for your genitals? Or is it considered a faux pas even down there?
…the possibilities are endless. I decided to do the whole shebang. Shine that puppy like the day I was born.
The main problem I was facing was that things down there are BUMPY.
It’s not like shaving your face (or legs, for you ladies). There are curves, and divots, and bumps, and ridges…and they come at you when you’re not expecting them.
This presents a challenge for you when you’re holding a razor to these surfaces. It’s a harrowing experience.
In fact, I may actually open a haunted house for Halloween where the inside is all just pictures of a razor traversing the surface of someone’s nut.
What this requires you to do, then, is to PULL on your junk.
I mean, REALLY PULL.
You have to make this stuff tight like a trampoline in order to take the risk out of it (if I would have had a little plastic army guy handy in the tub, he would have been trampolining). I have no desire to hack my balls off, so – instead – I grabbed them firmly and raised them to within an inch of my chin.
I had no idea a nutsack was so flexible – it’s almost like a miracle of evolution. Had someone pulled open the shower curtain at that moment, I have no idea what I would have said to them…balls in hand…stretched to my head… I’m also assuming that if this ball material could be harvested from corpses or eunuchs (pronounced “u-nik”…which is ironic given the fact that YOU do not want to NICK your balls when you’re shaving them), that it would render the normal bungy-cord material obsolete. We could market it as “testi-cords”.
People would pay to go “scroto-jumping” off of bridges.
But I digress…
Carefully moving on…stretching…twisting…bending…against the grain…pull to the left…pull to the right…pull straight up (I’m assuming that the man from Nantucket discovered his ‘gift’ when he first tried to shave his balls – “Hey…if I stretch just a little more…”)
….with the grain…over the river and through the woods…the job was done. A remarkable piece of sculpture, if I do say so myself, emerged. And, miracle of miracles, it looked BIGGER (which is a relative term in my case).
I was happy.
I was not bleeding.
I had all my parts intact…and I could see them clear as day!
The one question I still have though is how I got a tan line on it.
I have no idea how that got there. It’s been years since I’ve gone tanning, and I don’t – for the life of me – remember popping my johnson out.
I’ve been this way now for over a month. Maintenance is a bitch…as you still have to go through the contortionist act just to keep ahead of the game. Those babies want to grow back in the worst way.
On the other hand, though, it’s been feeling a little like an early Christmas for me. It’s like I have a new toy and I can’t stop playing with it (that reminds me, I need to disinfect this keyboard).
That’s the only problem now, though – I feel like I’m ten years old and I’m violating myself. I may need to register with the town.
Friday, October 05, 2007