WARNING: This story contains content that some may find distasteful, and will probably give you more information than you ever wanted to know about me.
Viewer discretion is advised.
Basically, I talk about my balls the entire time. You’ve been warned.
When I was a kid, I always thought it was odd that a neutered or spayed animal was labeled ‘fixed.’ The child of two hippies (of some kind or another), I felt this was outrageous and thought the label should be changed to ‘broken.’ Yeah, because animals aren’t driven by a biological need to reproduce, they’re just having babies because they’re in love, 10 year-old Me.
My wife was pregnant with our third, and her sixth child, a baby girl, and we knew if I didn’t get something disconnected downstairs we’d eventually have our own baseball team. If I recall correctly, her words were something along the lines of “You’re getting a vasectomy or you’re not touching me after she’s born, I’ll get pregnant again.” Continue reading “Getting Snipped: A Vasectomy Story”