Mrs. Snowman came home today and informed me one of her work colleagues (who’d read this
blog at her insistence) was requesting permission for her son to use direct quotes from these pages for a paper he’s
writing as part of his Sociology degree. I agreed, even though I can think of no educational value whatsoever contained in
this site. Even so, never let it be said I didn’t try to assist in his academic study of the socio-anthropological sciences.
I therefore offer him this little gem of knowledge.
Why are testicles so odd?
If you read this diary over your breakfast it’s probably not the phrase you’d choose
to start your day with, but I think it’s a perfectly valid question.
I don’t mean their appearance, which admittedly looks like an alien from a low budget
1950’s science fiction movie, but more the way in which they act.
For example, just as I thought my flu was subsiding it seems to be returning even more vehemently and my balls seem
to want to get in on the action. My head hurts, my eyes are burning up, I can hardly speak because my throat is so sore and
my stomach is performing a duet with my bowels so revolting that even I don’t want to go into details.
However, my nuts have absolutely no medical reason to get involved but have unilaterally decided they don’t want
to be left out. They ache like crazy and no manner of shifting my seat position or gentle rearranging seems to make any difference
to the pain.
Not unreasonably, I thought there might be a separate ailment afflicting my cluster so decided to investigate further.
This isn’t as easy as it sounds. For some reason they’re tucked away in a very awkward location that makes personal
inspection difficult but I came up with an ingenious solution involving the wife’s make-up mirror.
If you’re about to tuck into your cereal at this point, you might want to push the bowl to one side and think
about skipping a couple of meals.
By sitting on the edge of the sofa with my legs apart and angling the mirror at a level with my knees I can peer down
at an otherwise unexplored region and check for anything which looks out of the ordinary. However, ‘out of the ordinary’
is a relative term, as I’ve never had the occasion to compare them with anyone else’s. For all I know, my personal
crack sack may be the most beautiful example of the entire male race; but I very much doubt it.
They’re horrible!
Not only does this hairy little bundle of wrinkly skin flop around like a miniature sack of brussel sprouts, but also
it seems to be independently alive. It writhes around and moves of its own accord no matter what my brain asks it to do. It’s
not surprising everyone tries to ignore them and dives headlong for the far more entertaining appendage directly above
it.
Whilst we remain on the subject of pricks, I better explain the happenings in today’s poker. In the usual freerolls
I played like one but redeemed myself in the $50 Omaha tournament. I don’t usually play this version of the game, as
I’m even more crap at it than Hold ‘Em, but Paul persuaded me I should have a go. Unbelievably I find myself doing
quite well and end up finishing 2nd. Yes, you read that correctly…2nd. What a shame the prize
pools was only $50 as I made just $12.01, but I am nonetheless as happy as Monica Lewinsky in a cigar factory and spend the
remainder of the afternoon basking in glory.
I’m happy that I was guided into the event; I’m happy that my journalistic efforts are reaching a wider
audience but most of all I’m happy Mrs. Snowman didn’t wander in while I was spread eagled on the sofa with my
scrotum dangling over her mirror.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $16.87
