(WARNING: The following tale - albeit true - is intended for mature audiences, and those with a strong stomach)
I wish to God it didn't, but it did.
It happened...without warning.
I...I...I don’t know what I was thinking…
…I don’t know where my mind was…
...but fate, in it’s cruel and unforgiving nature, decided it was time to deal me a crushing blow…
…and it happened…
I nicked my right nut while I was shaving it.
You know…it was only a matter of time.
My vasectomy scars have healed pretty nicely…except for the one on my right nut (currently in the shape of a smiley face) which is a bit raised.
I’ve been avoiding manscaping this particular area specifically because of this little ball-bumpage anomaly…
…as such, avoiding this little area has resulted in said testicle resembling the lunchlady you had in elementary school with the big, hairy, mole.
So, I decided it was finally time to give the one, lone, sprouting area a trim to go along with the rest of my manscaping….it was starting to look out of place down there…
…like a palm tree in the middle of a desert…
…but instead of a palm tree and desert, it was peach fuzz and ball.
So, sure as sh*t, on the first swipe I feel it.
...the air grows cold...
...I suck in my breath impulsively...
What just happened?!
...then...the panic sets in...
Am I bleeding?
Is my nut still there?!
...my mind races...
How do I explain this to the 9-1-1 operator?!?!
The call comes in:
911: “9-1-1. What seems to be the emergency?”
Me (freaking out): “MY GOD!! THE BLOOD!!!”
911: “Sir, sir…you’ll need to calm down. What’s the problem, sir?”
Me: “THE TWINS…I’VE..DONE SOMETHING…HORRIBLE….TO...TO THE TWINS…MY BABIEEEES...”
911: “Sir. Please calm down sir and explain your situation."
Me: "What was I thinking?! Three blades?! THREE?!?"
911: "Sir, you said 'twins.' You’re talking about your children, sir? Are your children hurt, sir?”
Me: “Oh, God…yes…I mean…no…not my kids…my balls. I almost cut off my nut shaving....I think…wait...hold on…”
Me: “Okay..okay…I’m all set…Wow...I washed away the shaving cream and it’s not bleeding that bad."
911: "Sir? Your..nut...sir?"
Me: "Yeah. Phew. Okay. A small “Dora the Explorer” bandage, tops, should cover it. I DO have a question, though…before the paramedics arrive, should I finish shaving the nut or just leave it half done?”
Those bastards are so insensitive sometimes.
So, I’m explaining this to the people I work with, and one of the guys here says:
“Um…how do you explain to your kids that you have no hair there? My kids would be, like, ‘Daddy…why do you have hair everywhere else but there?’”
Explain this to my kids?
WHY would I have the actual NEED to explain the look of my pubic area to my children?
..because..um...as general practice, I don't usually let them sit around and stare at my junk.
...but YOUR kids would say what?
...this begs the following dumb question...
How often do you let your children gaze upon your chiclets, and - more curiously - how long are they in this viewing state in order to come to such a conclusion?
Granted, once upon a time I may have strode around my house naked when they were around…most likely exiting the shower or whatnot…but I kind of keep a mental note to myself these days, as they get older, that Daddy’s groin is Daddy’s business…
…and I seriously don’t need the neighbors being able to glance into my window as they walk by during their evening stroll…
…and see me standing there naked…my children pointing at my privates…heads tilted in confusion.
I enjoy Dateline NBC’s “To Catch a Predator,” but I have no illusions of stardom at this point in time.
On a related note, I also have really no recollection of my own childhood where the pubic region of my father came into play.
…I believe this is called, “repression.”
As a general rule, I try not to waltz around in front of my children who are:
a) At an age to remember what they see and…
b) Have school friends that they tell these things to
I don’t need this kind of pressure coming from the school board.
However, I do believe that this explains why my buddy wears that ankle bracelet.