I’m not usually a follower but sometimes when everyone is doing it, I have to jump on board.  I’ve never been an early adopter and will often even fight it.  For years I heard The Wire was the greatest show on TV but I didn’t want to cave in just because it was cool.  Well…  I shouldn’t have waited, that shit is mind bogglingly good.  Omar’s my homeboy.

This time the cool thing to do was get the snip.  I’d been toying around with the idea for years, I’m still a youngish guy, so why not?  I don’t need no kids.  Kids aren’t smart, they aren’t interesting, they have zero life experience, they never want to go to the bars and besides the regular naps we aren’t interested in any of the same things.  “You’re playing with Legos?  Sweet.  Those were cool thirty years ago loser.”  “The Wiggles… awesome.  Bon Iver got robbed at the Grammys.  Thoughts?  Oh, you don’t have any because you’re a kid.” “Want to go see Drive tonight, starts at 10? Oh that’s past your bed time.  Grow up wuss.”  (I’m joking of course…  I love all your kids even if they are rats.)

Decision made, no kids for me.  Let’s make it official.  Vasectomy.

When I went for my initial visit, the doctor wanted to know where my wife was.  I had to explain to him that I didn’t have a wife but I don’t see why that is any of his business.  Can’t a single guy get this operation?  I schedule the appointment for a Thursday so I can “rehab” over the weekend and go back to work on Monday.

You’re wide awake during the procedure so the doctor insisted I take a Valium before in order to relax.  He didn’t really have to explain to me why I should take it.  Sure dude, any chance to take a Valium works for me, especially if it’s prescribed.  An hour before I leave for the hospital I pop the pill, Smells picks me up and takes me in for surgery.

There’s three other guys in the waiting room and we all sit in opposite corners of the room.  Must be some type of zen moment man code where we’re all trembling at the prospect of our boys getting attacked with a razor blade.

I was instructed to shave down before I got there and did what I thought was a masterful job.  Straight up porn bald.  Wrong.  This twenty-something girl had to examine me first and did a little clean up down there.  When she was done I asked, “You must love your job.”  She smiled at me but her face said, “Go fuck yourself.  I hear the same shit every day.  You’re not funny and no your little Irish prick is not making my day asshole.”  Either way that chick has to have some stories for her friends.  I think it would be tough to date a girl that looks at wieners all day.

After the procedure, the doctor gave me three rules #1 Ice down my nuts #2 Take it easy this weekend #3 Remain flaccid.  Excuse me?  That is like asking the wind not to blow.  I can’t control that shit.  I went home afterwards, threw some frozen peas down my pants and chilled on the couch for the day.

I realized I should probably stay in all weekend but I was feeling more confident and the swelling had gone down.  Take it easy?  Screw that, let’s go to a bachelor party.  I’m sure this won’t end up at a strip club… which it did.

Now I’m not blowing smoke here, I really don’t like strip clubs.  Why waste my money at these places when I’m Chip?  But for a bachelor party, you have to play along.  Besides an Asian massage parlor, a strip club is probably the worst place in America for me to go after this operation.   Some nice young lady named Candy, Dallas or Phoenix may have been the cause for me to break rule #3 and let’s just say I was well aware of the pain.

To ensure that the procedure took, the doctor ordered me to “release” ten time to clear the pipes.  Then to make sure my boys are done swimming, I should place my tenth specimen in a cup and bring it to the lab for testing.  Sounds like it’s going to be a busy Monday.

I finish number ten and put it in the fridge.  That night I have a lady friend over for dinner who curiously discovers the jar in the fridge.  “Oh that’s just my specimen.  I keep it in the fridge.”  Normal and not at all embarrassing.

The next day I drive to the lab to drop it off.  When I walk in, an old college friend that I haven’t seen in years is there with her husband.  Just sheer confusion on her face.  I walk to the counter and say to the nurse..
“I’m here to drop off my specimen.”
“What specimen?”
“You know… I had an operation a few weeks ago… and I’m supposed to bring in a specimen.”
“No sir, I don’t know what you are here for.”
“You know, I had to go home and then put my specimen in this cup and….”
“What kind of specimen is it?”
“My semen.  My semen is in this jar that I have in my hand here.”

At least something like this isn’t permanent right?  Open for business ladies!

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