This…. well, this is gonna be a bit graphic, so send the kids out ofg the room. Might wanna swallow your coffee before you click to expand the page, too.

Last fall, I’m at Mom’s carving the turkey for thanksgiving, and I slice my thumb open because someone uses my handmade carving knife to HACK BONES AGAINST THE EDGE of the metal pan. So, I tape myself up and eat.

After dinner, we’ve all eaten until we’re near to bursting, and I feel the inevitable motive power of mom’s sage stuffing acting on my lower intestine. Few things in life, face it, are more satisfying than a well placed bowel movement after a healthy meal, and it is not without a certain satisfaction that I grab the latest Reader’s Digest and head off to mom’s downstairs throne.

Now, I’m a bit stiff in the hand from having sliced into the meat of my thumb, and as i sit, I realize the Digest is an old issue, that I’ve read before. Palm to the rescue! I slip my palm pilot out of my pocket, and thumb the switch for a quick game of freecell.

On several occasions, the Ogwife has accused me of having really, really large balls. While, metaphorically speaking, she’s right, I tend to be bold; but in reality I suspect my testes are no larger than the norm. I have conducted NO studies whatsoever to determine the veracity of this theory.

On the other hand, I DO have an abnormally large scrotum. One old girlfriend referred to it as the pouch, another told me I had enough scrotum to make a nice scrotum and a fine set of matching luggage. I suspect this to be an exaggeration; an overnight bag at most.

Anyway, I draw the stylus from the back of my Palm 7 and the clumsiness of the freshly taped thumb causes me to flip it to the floor opposite. I lean down to retrieve the pen, and


Now, this is a certainty with a normal crapper, but this is a high stool, a handicapper so to speak, with the facility to deal with someone with disabilities (other than macroscrota) It’sw a LONG way from the rim to the water.


So, I slip as quietly as I can out of my pants and have a quick hose off in the shower, and sit back down. I haven’t even begun my business, so to speak, and frankly, mom cleans in such a manner as to make the toilet water probably more sanitary than most public drinking fountains. Still, I dunked my balls in the WATER! ICK!!!

From that moment on, I have been in the practice of hanging the boys out of the bowl, over the edge where required, or at least holding them out of the damp.

yeah, I know, tmi.