One of my friends told me this hilarious story yesterday via email about her husband. I asked her if I could repeat it here, because I’m telling you, I could not make up shit this funny.

She said no.

 

I’m like,

“But why? I’m dying over here!”

 

Let’s Talk about Balls — Okay?

She said no.

 

Apparently her husband reads my blog too (Thanks, buddy!) and she knows that *HE* would know it was about him.

 

I’m like,

“What if I change his name? Then it doesn’t even MATTER if it’s about him, because NOBODY HAS TO KNOW IT’S *HIS* BALLS!”

 

Let’s Talk about Balls

Just in general, you know? Nobody’s balls in particular!

 She said no.

 

He is very sensitive about his balls, and doesn’t want anyone to know that he has to sleep with a pillow between his thighs at night. He doesn’t think it’s funny that if he doesn’t sleep with a pillow between his thighs at night, his balls get crushed.

 

“Besides,” she added, “Isn’t that a bit inappropriate to talk about, even on YOUR blog?”

 

Let’s Talk about Balls

Because on *MY* blog, anything goes!

 

She is right, of course. We should not ever talk about balls. Or the fact that men grab them all the time. Or how men scratch at them and don’t even give a shit that people are watching. Or how professional athletes adjust their cups — those things which protect their balls — on national television ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

 

Here’s my question:

 If the topic of balls is so freaking taboo, then why are men always touching them?

 

So at the risk of losing my friendship, I’m going to talk about this dude’s balls anyway. Because I’m betting that other men have issues with their balls, too. And we should be able to speak about something that holds such fascination for guys.

 

Let’s Talk about Balls

Consequences be damned!

 

I asked my friend — before she un-friended me on every social medium possible, thereby telling the world EXACTLY who I’m talking about if you’re the slightest bit savvy — how they get crushed. I asked her to describe this phenomenon.

 She said no.

 

I’m like,

“But how does he not squish them when he’s just walking or whatever? And what happens to them during sex? What about just sitting down?”

 

Let’s Talk about Balls

Because they are funny!

 

I had to ask these questions, because the mental images passing through my mind were painful. I could not stop picturing my friend’s husband’s balls in various positions. Please understand, it’s not that I WANTED to imagine someone’s balls other than my own hubz’. I did not invite these pictures into my brain. They were just… you know… THERE.

 

You have to understand how my thinking works. One of the reasons I have absolute zero respect for authority of any sort (whether professional, social, or familial) is because I know for a fact that men have balls and women have vaginas. And THAT?

 

Seriously. That shit is FUNNY!

 

I cannot possibly take seriously any man’s anger when the idea of his balls swinging back and forth cracks me up to no end. Balls are funny and stupid-looking and hairy and ugly.

 I’m sorry, but they are.

 

And women? Our junk is silly looking, too. Seriously. The whole thing just reeks of omniscient humor gone wild.

 

So I don’t get intimidated very easily. Every single one of you motherfuckers has very funny-looking body parts.

 

Let’s Talk about Balls

For realz.

 

The last answer my friend gave me was this — which I found truly astounding, because I never knew it. Not being a male, of course, that’s not surprise. But still.

 

“My husband says they change size.”

 

WTF!? That happens? I seriously had NO idea. So I asked my hubz about it. You can imagine how well that conversation went over with him.

 

He refused to answer on the grounds that I might blog about it. Which I just did. He knows me so well!

 

But now I’m left with burning questions about balls which I do not want to Google, because I’m afraid of the porn pics that might stain my eyes. So I’m just going to throw this question out there, and see if anyone bites. I’m not expecting any takers on this one.

 

Seriously, though — how could I *NOT* write about balls with that kind of lead-up?

Comments

comments