The Wife & I Discuss Testicles

This past Saturday we took our puppy Marty to have his manhood removed. Despite the wife trying everything in her power to have the doctors neuter me as well, I managed to escape with my bits and pieces.

But, the whole situation did instigate a conversation between the wife and I about testicles.

Me: “That poor little bastard is gonna have a twig with no berries. You think he’ll need doggie therapy to deal with it?”

Wife: “You’re not taking this too well are you?”

Me: “It’s a guy thing. When another member of the male gender loses his man-bits we’re required to take a collective sigh and moment of silence.”

Wife: “You have serious issues.”

Me: “Those things are important. They’re magical and scientifically speaking, I wouldn’t be shocked if they have some sort of roll in the Earth’s orbit around the moon.”

Wife: “They have a scientific affect all right. They cloud your thinking with images of boobies and panties so you say really stupid things. Case-in-point…the Earth revolves around the sun sweetie.”

Me: “If you ever say ‘case-in-point’ to me again you’ll be orbiting the sun.”

Wife: “I don’t know, I just think those things possibly do more harm than good. I mean, look at child molesters and rapists.”

Me: “Yeah, they should definitely have their balls removed immediately after being found guilty. But come on, they do a lot of good. They produced your children!”

Wife: “They did help with that process. Although, now that that’s done with maybe we should consider removing them?”

Me: “Why, so that I turn into a Snuggie-wearing, Oxygen-watching, girlfriend of yours who doesn’t hump your leg, do naked dances for you after my showers, or complain about going shopping?”

Wife: “Oh my God that sounds blissful. I think I had a small orgasm at the thought of that.”

Me: “That hurts….that hurts deep. My balls are staying with me till the bitter end my dear!”

Wife: “Speaking of that, there’s another testicular fact. Old-man-balls are an absolute horror show. Your balls are never gonna hit your knees are they?”

Me: “When the hell have you seen old-man-balls? Do you have some sort of old person fetish? Is this why you watch Golden Girls all the time?”

Wife: “I just think you should consider wearing like a man testicle bra so when you’re 80 your nuts aren’t dragging the ground.”

Me: “So can I take a second to recap what you seem to believe about my balls? They make me think of nothing but boobies and panties, clouding my thoughts to the point that I even dismiss Galileo’s hard work. You would like to have them removed so I turn into your dream-girl BFF. But, if they do remain part of me it scares you to the point that you spend sleepless nights inventing man-testicle bras?”

Wife: “Honey. You know you were staring at my breasts the whole time you were ranting just then?”

Me: “What color panties are you wearing right now?”

Birthday Cake & Boobies

Last night I laid in bed with the boy like I always do, shooting the shit, making him laugh, making up stories...

Ten minutes later the wife hopped in bed to say good night. One minute later the daughter jumped in too.

For the next 10 minutes “boobs” were focus of this unique impromptu family gathering. And here’s how it went:

Daughter: “Grayson, you remember the story about you pooping and getting a birthday cake?”

Me: “You mean when we promised brother we’d give him a whole cake if he ever pooped in the toilet instead of his diaper?”

Wife: “And he did!”

Daughter: “Why didn’t I get any of that cake daddy?!!”

Me: “You did. Trust me…you were a baby, mommy chowed down on that cake and you got it through mommy’s milk!”

Son: “Hahaha you drank birthday cake through mommy’s boobies!! Haha”

Me: “Umm soo did you chief. For 13 months you drank from mom’s boob.”

Son: “NO I DIDN’T!!!”

Daughter: “Haha Grayson drank mommy’s boobie!”

Wife: “So did you dear…for six months you drank from my boobies.”

Son: “Yeah!!!!! See Macy…haha…you drank on mommy’s boobs, too!”

Daughter: “Yeah, but I got birthday cake!”

Son: “Daddy did you get any birthday cake through mommy’s boobies?”

Despite my natural desire to want to answer the question with exaggerated stories surrounding the glories breasts of my wife, I (for once) looked at my wife and reacted accordingly to her “say one word and I’ll cut you” glare.

Me: “No son…I have never, nor will I ever have cake from mommy’s boobies.”

Wife: “That was one of the most painful things you’ve ever done wasn’t it?”

Me: “You have no idea. I need to be alone for a while.”

Wife: “Just make sure you clean-up afterwards.”

Son: “Why does daddy need to be alone mommy?”

Wife: “Your daddy really really LOVES birthday cake and talking about it really made him want some.”

Daughter: “Do you have birthday cake in your boobies right now mommy?”

Wife: “No dear, mommy’s boobies have all dried up and are purely ornamental at this point.”

Son: “Your boobs are like ornaments on a tree?”

Wife: “Ummm…yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Son: “You’ve got big ornaments mommy.”

Wife: “OK…and with that let’s go to bed kids!!”