Friday, April 22, 2011

April 22nd-Brought To You By the Letter 'V'

Vasectomy-The Unkindest Cut of All
(NOTE:  That can’t possibly be original)

    Having children is a wonderful thing, especially if you’re a man. 
    All we have to do is get the ball rolling, so to speak (a euphemism if there ever was one), sometimes more than once if we’re lucky.  Then, following a few weeks of pensive waiting (during which we get to keep the ball rolling-if you know what I mean), our wife/girlfriend/woman we met in a bar looks lovingly into our eyes (hopefully, not during the ballgame). 
    In a soft, trembling voice suffused with tender devotion, she whispers, “We’re going to have a baby.”
    Then, she goes to throw up in the toilet.
    The next nine months, 30 weeks, baseball season (whatever) then becomes a non-stop rollercoaster ride.  Mixed with equal parts of emotion and curiosity over whether she’ll eventually explode like one of those critters on “Alien,” we arrive at the magic time for our baby’s entry into the world of songbirds, sunshine, and Charlie Sheen.
    Hopefully, in preparation for an induced labor (so a perfectly good weekend isn’t messed up), the woman settles in for the blessed event.  Followed by several hours of screaming bloody murder at the evildoer who did this to her.
    Just so you don’t think we men have it rough, don’t forget:  while you’re trying to force a bowling ball through a garden hose (I know that’s not original!), we’re struggling just as strenuously.  You think it’s easy to watch television with all that racket going on?
    Soon enough, we’re given a gift from God (although the deity wasn’t in the room).  Mother and father tenderly hold their precious bundle, bathed in the warmth which comes from the knowledge that they are a solid family unit.
    Only later that night does Dad mark on the calendar when he can start the ball rolling again.
    Luckily for me, Mrs. Penwasser presented me with two beautiful children (beautiful because they don’t look like me).  I have a son who is the model of the man I wish I was and a daughter who is everything I wasn’t in high school: popular.
    With that in mind, we both decided not to press our luck.  Odds were that a third child would look like me, act like me, and use my jokes.
    That, along with a state law that forbade me from further reproduction, compelled us to seek methods of permanent sterilization.
    We first considered having my wife’s tubes tied.  But, since that conjured up a vision of a rodeo where a chaps-wearing doctor would wrassle my wife to the operating table, we didn’t want to try that.
    I also considered radiation to fry my “boys.”  But, since taping a cell phone to my crotch was impractical and sticking my junk in front of the microwave delayed dinner, we decided on a vasectomy.
    Since this decision was made while I was still in the Navy, there was no worry about how we were going to be able to pull this off (an unfortunate phrase, that).  The local Navy hospital was more than capable of performing the procedure (NOTE: No way was I going to have this done on a ship.  A MOVING ship.).
    So, after talking a couple of the guys into joining me (the hospital was having a special.  Bring a friend and get 10% off a car wash), I decided to close the “Being Fruitful and Multiply” store.
    The three of us were ushered into what looked like a MASH operating room.  After a couple of questions, like “Have you eaten in the past 12 hours?”, “Are you sure you want to do this?”, “Have you shaved this morning?” (ever the wise guy, I stuck out my chin and asked, “Sure, but what does that have to do with it?”, we were instructed to disrobe from the waist down and cover ourselves with a white sheet.
    Frankly, I wanted to go all nude, but my friends chickened out.  I think they were jealous.
    Anyway, the three of us laid (or is that ‘lied’? I can NEVER get that straight) down on the table, sheets draped across our laps, our “privates” (wait a minute, we were in the Navy-we didn’t have “privates.”  Okay, “seamen.”  There, that’s better.”) poking through holes.  I swear, we looked like a row of ghosts wearing Jimmy Durante masks.
    Assisted by a dour-looking corpsman, the doctor (whose Sonny Bono mustache drooped so low he was able to suck on it.  Ewwww.) stood in front of us.  He reassured us that the procedure would be painless.  Especially, he laughed, for him.
    Yeah, I know.  Laugh clown, laugh.
    There would be, he cautioned, a small “stick and a kick.”
    Starting with me, he injected my laddies (the “stick”) to numb them.  This was immediately followed by a substantial “kick.”  Visions of playground bullies at Saint Stanislaus immediately swam into focus as I struggled to breathe.  Before I had the chance to lie that I was okay, though, the parts surrounding my fun factory lost all feeling.  I gave the mustache-sucker a thumbs up. 
    So, it went with the rest of us.  In no time, the genital assembly line (thanks, Henry Ford!) was closing up shop.  Gingerly putting our trousers back on, we cracked jokes about unloaded guns and laughed about whether we should show our scars at the next family reunion.
    Still, we were happy that we were finally taken off the playing field, in a matter of speaking.  Instead of being put out to stud, we knew that the limited edition of “us” was finally at an end. 
    As we got our parking validated and received our car wash vouchers, we took comfort that our lives would be spared from future unplanned, unforeseen “Uh-ohs.”
    Even more, we were thrilled that we would be able to “get the ball rolling” in only a couple weeks.
    Unless SportsCenter was on.

REMINDER:  Only one more week until Prince William and Kate get married! I still haven't received my invitation, which really hacks me off. Especially since I mailed them my handmade collection of troll dolls made to look like the Royal Family.  So, I guess I'll have to wear my powder-blue tuxedo on the streetcorner as I wave a sign advertising the latest sale at Mens Wearhouse.  "You better like the way you look.  Because the prince stiffed me!"


  1. Like how you managed to squeeze in the compliments to your kids. Made husband read this post out loud (he got one for his 30th, and is still bitter every once in a while)

  2. After child #2 was born I informed my other half that if I could push a bowling ball thru a garden hose not once but twice, then he could get a Vas. He reluctantly agreed. Then, he had a rare side effect that made the healing process a few weeks instead of a few days. I actually felt really sorry for him.

  3. At least your vasectomy was better than mine was.

  4. Haha I can picture that scene... Come check me out,

  5. @baygirl: Goodness knows I screw around a lot, but I meant what I said about the kids. They're better people than I will ever be (and I don't have much time left). The best thing about the vasectomy: I KNEW it would be a funny story one day (like my hemorrhoid surgery).
    @Leslie: Sorry to hear about that one. I was up and running (well, not running) within a day. Of course, I milked it for what it was worth. Bedrest, icebags, and Peanut M&Ms.
    @OT: It was a snap. Or snip. Whatever.
    @Jessica: It really was an assembly line. I guess it caught on at work, because three more guys on the ship wanted "Combat Vs."

  6. That picture of you and the word "Vasectomy" is all it took for me to get my morning's laughter in. Thanks, Al.

  7. Victory at Vasectomy Ridge! (giving Vimy a break!)

    How did those "seamen" do, you know those brave lads that took the plunge with you?

    Great post - funny too!

  8. Thanks for a delightful chuckle today! You know, you really are a gifted writer!

  9. You paint this picture all too well. It's going to take me a while to get over this post, lol. Your Jimmy Durante reference was priceless. Very funny post, as usual.

  10. Great post. Loved how you got them! My hubby had one and after he passed away I realized that I'd have to worry about birth control when I started dating again. OH NO, that wasn't going to happen. So I had my inners outted! Thank God!! Can't be bothered with that crap.

  11. I enjoyed your humorous take on a painful (to the ego)jab.

  12. Ok Ok you're funny all right. My wife was laughing hysterically. Now, she's begging me to do the Jimmy Durante impression.

    Seriously funny.

  13. The navy really does do everything together, full speed ahead.

  14. @Robyn: Usually that part of the anatomy elicits the biggest laughs.
    @Jenny: Epilogue to the story: several days later, I was fine and able to accompany my wife and kids to a place called "Discovery Zone." It was one of those "gerbil trails" that kids love. Anyway, the wife of one of my friends (we called him "Wanking Clown") came up to us and said that her husband was still bedridden. I told her that he was just using that as an excuse to avoid coming to that magic place with miles of kid tubes and pools of those little plastic vomit balls. He was mad at me for weeks.
    @Eva: Thanks-that means a lot. I'd really like to do this for a living, but I can't imagine being paid to run my mouth.
    @Clipped: Like I've said, I knew a funny story would come out of it.
    @Barb: So you went to the gynecological rodeo? Good for you.
    @Rekha: Stick and a kick. Stick and a kick.
    @Anthony: Did you do it?
    @AC: It was funny how everyone in the office got one. Didn't cost nuthin'

  15. I wasn't aware of the cell phone option. I totally would have done that instead. *phones doctor to call him a bastard*

  16. I usually just stick my cell phone in my pants, set it to vibrate, and ask people to call me.