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Sunday, November 27, 2005

Thanksgiving And My Balls

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS WORDS LIKE “SHOTS,” “PENIS,” “VAGINA,” and “TESTICLE.” OF COURSE, THIS IS NOT THE SHOTS/PENIS/VAGINA/TESTICLE STORY I WISH I HAD EXPERIENCED AND WAS NOW TELLING. DON’T PRETEND LIKE YOU DON’T FOLLOW. YOU WERE ALREADY THINKING ALONG THOSE LINES ANYWAY. PERV.

There I was, Thursday night, fast asleep. Dreaming of the two days I had just spent celebrating Thanksgiving. Remember this point, because I’m coming back to this. It’s important. Like, “did someone just kick me in the crotch???” important.

I’ll explain later.

Wednesday, my mom made Thanksgiving dinner, including all the traditional dishes. It was great, and my whole family had a delightful time.

That night, after everyone was finished eating and letting their food settle, I went out with my friends to the bars. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is a BUSY night at the bars. All the college kids are home for the holiday. So, my two friends and I headed out to a few different places.

First, we went to one to wish a friend-of-a-friend happy birthday. We drank Guinness and then had a shot of Tequila. And when people suggest doing shots, it seems customary to do it like everyone is disagreeing with them.

“Oh, no, we’re doing shots, dude. You get over here. No, man, we’re doing ‘em. Hey guys, we’re doing shots! Get your fucking asses over here!”

But in my brief experience drinking, no one is ever disagreeing with the idea.

I met a girl there that I had met before, but hadn’t seen for a while. I thought she was cute then, and I think she’s cute now. I talked to her for a good forty-five minutes. Ignoring my friends? Sure I was, but they would have done the same to me. In fact, they have. But I did get her phone number, which I don’t usually do, because I’m just not that kind of picking-up-girls-at-a-bar guy. I know, you’re shocked. I mean, I will often physically pick them up to move them from my path and show off my superhuman strength. But that’s neither here nor there.

We went to another bar to meet up with some other folks. We did another shot. Again, someone suggested doing shots like we had never done shots before that night and like everyone was against the idea, which no one was. This happened twice more throughout the night. Each time more exciting than the last. And of course, less sober, too. I’m not going to lie: a few people threw up. I never do, for a few reasons.

One, I’m Irish. Reason number two is something I learned from a wise old monk in the mountains of Tibet. When you think you may be on the verge of vomiting, say, “No, thank you. I do not require any more alcohol.” Works every time.

Eventually we all went out to eat to sober up a little and it was a great time, I have to say. I had the fish.

Thursday we went to my Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. Of course, she out-did herself as always. It was a great time. Except for when some douche bag backed into my uncle’s BMW and then drove off. We never got the license plate number. So if you come across a guy with no penis and a vagina for a head, call the Kenosha, WI police department. Thanks.

Which brings us to Thursday night/ Friday morning. I have to work at 9:30AM. It’s about 2:30AM and I suddenly wake up with the most severe pain I’ve ever felt... down there. My left testicle. It felt like someone had just kicked me there. I couldn’t put any pressure on it, from any angle. I couldn’t lay on my stomach, my side, my back. Obviously that leaves few options.

SOMEHOW, I slept. I think. I don’t know, maybe I was just in so much pain that I stared at my wall and hallucinated, making myself think I was sleeping. Regardless, I have to remember to send the old Indian woman who helped me walk through that desert a fruit basket or something. That was mighty decent of her.

When I came to, I prepared for work. Showering was interesting. Putting pants on was interesting. The question of the day: Do I wear boxers or briefs today? Usually the question is arbitrary, but today it actually meant something. Do I want the extra support and extra pressure, or do I want more freedom and movement. Turns out, after a little trial and error, it didn’t even matter. It hurt like hell regardless.

It hurt to walk, ladies and gentlemen. And, in my job, I do a lot of walking around and a lot of lifting. Usually, I’ll listen to NPR in the morning to keep me relaxed, but even Terry Gross couldn’t help my balls. They hurt. I never told anyone, of course. How do you tell your boss and fellow co-workers that?

“Yeah, I think I’m going to punch out early. MY BALLS really hurt. Like, a lot. I feel like my left testicle is going to pop out of my scrotum. See you tomorrow!”

It’s not exactly poetry. Unless, maybe, I wrote it like this. Imagine there are bongos, berets, and fingers snapping. Perhaps a tambourine, too. Of course, like real poetry, this won’t rhyme, and will make little or no sense.

Oh, Sweet Pain Of Man

Left testicle
Oh, despair!
Explosion of a thousand suns
Brother Earth, Sister Moon
Testes of the solar system
Walk, walk!
Cry, cry!
BOXER rebellion
Mandatory DeBRIEFing
To leave the workplace
Whoa is me!
But my balls be hurtin'

I did leave work early. For you guys, imagine you’ve been kicked in the crotch. All day long. That’s what it felt like. For you girls, well, I don’t know what the female equivalent would be. Use your imagination.

It’s Sunday and I feel fine now. Still a little pain, but it’s tolerable. I think I pinched a nerve or something. That’s the only thing I can think of. But at least I was able to use this awesome poem I’d been saving for just such an occasion.

17 Comments:

At 9:52 PM, Blogger Syar said...

can't believe I'm first to respond to this magnificent post.

does...I mean, that just happens? you wake up one day and your balls hurt like crazy? I ask because, hey, I don't know these things and never will. (even with surgery it probably just won't be the same.)

my favourite line of that beautiful prose :

"Testes of the solar system"

weird visual. that's all I'll say on the matter.

great post!!

 
At 12:09 AM, Blogger Nadia said...

(whispers) Damn you Former Intern Andy...

*dies of laughter*

 
At 3:59 AM, Blogger 123-I-Love-You said...

My friend had the same thing and he went immediately to the doctor.

The doctor told him that if he (my friend) had not come within 30 minutes of feeling the pain, it would have been necessary to remove the testes.

I assume you went to the doctor within 30 minutes of experiencing the pain, right?

RIGHT??!

 
At 8:24 AM, Blogger Adammmmmm said...

My balls hurt once.

So I made her finish me off.

 
At 8:28 AM, Blogger Katie said...

So I suppose the vgina in this post is the girl you got the number from. I'm so proud! How drunk were you? But being Irish and all, that's not so worrisome. And that poem... jesus... you brought tears to my eyes.

Beautiful post.

 
At 12:26 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm pretty sure the female equivalent to this would be something along the lines of a brazilian wax. Girls are so much tougher than boys.

 
At 7:36 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

this may not be the problem but just in case, it's better to treat it sooner rather than later:

http://scc.uchicago.edu/chlamydiamales.htm

 
At 7:59 PM, Blogger 52X Max said...

must have been the effort of picking up so many girls, specially hot girls

I used to pick them up also when they were in my way, but with time I've learned to just throw 'em away to get pass through

 
At 2:11 AM, Blogger Me said...

Oh my. Hopefully that pain doesn't come back to haunt you any time soon.

I can only imagine. Seriously.

I'm thinking the equivalent may be an ovarian cyst rupturing.

Yep. Hurts like hell.

 
At 8:55 AM, Blogger Luke said...

This was great. Thanks for the laugh.

 
At 9:14 AM, Blogger It is the question said...

My suffering was less easy to hide.

I was playing indoor cricket. I was the non-striker batsman (kinda like the guy waiting on first base). I was backing up - (kinda like the guy on first base trying to steal second - except that in cricket there are only two batsmen out there at a time and the non-striker runs back towards the striker, whereupon he becomes the striker again and the striker becomes the non-striker - if you see what I mean. Incidently, this exchange of positions results in a run being scored).

So as I was saying, I was backing up. Now imagine in baseball, hitting a line drive in the direction of the guy on first base. Now imagine it's cricket, and the guy on first base is running straight back at you.

I think you see where this is going.

So I was charging towards the batsman, trying to steal a quick run. The batsman hit a drive so true, it would have flown a kilometer at a height of about 4 foot without touching the ground once.

The ball hit me - not one kilometer, but only 15 metres away. It hit me as I was running about as fast as the ball was travelling (about 90mph) but in the opposite direction (does that make it a 180mph collision? I think so). It hit me in the balls.

I collapsed. I don't know how I didn't puke. I could not breathe.

Woman say men would die if they endured labour pains. I hesitate to compare the pain I felt. Mainly because I have not been through labour. However, my pain might have killed a lesser man. It was not a pain like being stabbed. It was more a pain like a sadness, a nausea, like I had just lost something vital. My jewels, my lungs, my stomach.

Eventually I could stagger. Stagger away from my friends. How I got home I don't know.

But the next day, I called a cab to take me to hospital.

To add to the humiliation, I was then examined by multiple female nurses and doctors. I was subjected to ultrasound. This showed that my testicles were still there. In fact they were larger. This was not as good as size down there usually is.

But the good news was that I did not lose anything. The fellows were destined to be OK - just badly bruised.
____

A friend once had a "twisted testicle." I always wondered how, but it just doesn't seem like a question you ask. Anyway, it required a trip to the doctor, and it was serious.

Maybe you should get things checked out....

 
At 6:55 PM, Blogger Carrie said...

I've had a baby. And I'm pretty sure your ball didn't hurt that bad.

 
At 7:19 PM, Blogger dbsamson said...

BLUE BALLS.
It's gotta be. Creeps up on you out of nowhere and takes you out for the count. Happened to me once when i spooned my girlfriend on a college visitation weekend and she didn't give it up. I even went to the hospital it hurt so bad an i thought i was DYING! I swear it's true.

You probably got it from that girl you didn't pick up, she must have slipped some blue balls poison in your shot.

 
At 8:05 PM, Blogger C. Nicholas Walker said...

You're probably not going to like this, but I am 100% sure you have epididymitis, a medical condition where the epididymis, a narrow, tightly-coiled tube connecting the efferent ducts from the rear of each testicle to its vas deferens, becomes inflamed. This condition may be mildly or very painful. Antibiotics may be needed to control a component of infection. As a last resort, surgery may be employed. Visit your local doctor and he'll tell you the same thing. Either that or it's tecticular torsion, in which case your balls get cut off...I'd go with the first one if I were you.

 
At 5:45 AM, Blogger Matt said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

 
At 9:29 AM, Blogger Miss Devylish said...

Um.. ow. Sounds painful.. and to the 'me' person.. yes, those ovarian cysts are pretty bad as well.. blech. But boy.. go to the doc, just in case.

 
At 3:35 AM, Anonymous a girl... said...

A co worked rang me up in the middle of the day, as he was missing from work and everyone had told me he was sick.

I was surprised to hear from him and asked how he was. He said "Well, I didn't tell anyone else from work, but I guess I can tell you... I somehow twisted one of my testicles".

Now, being a girl and being totally unfamiliar with this sort of predicament, I didn't know what to say. But I know I thought it was fucking hilarious.

And I couldn't share it with anyone.

Until now.

Bahahahahahaa.

 

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