In alt.foot.fat-free, ( wrote:


Beachballs everywhere, rejoice! Jackie-boy is shootin' blanks.


I'm SO pleased at how simple this was. I met with cheery Dr. Bob of

the Mirthful Eyes (no Pipe) two weeks ago and scheduled a vasectomy

for this morning. He provided me then with some pamphlets, and a small

envelope containing a Valium and an antibiotic. "See you next Friday,"

he said with a wink.


Got up at 5:30 this morning, glagged down a bit o' Joe, hopped in the

shower and proceeded to SHAVE MY SCROTUM as prescribed by Dr. Bob.

Never done that before. I practically had to physically restrain

Mumthra, she wanted to come at me with a razor so badly. Nuh-uh. We've

done a fair bit of Yeti experimentation in the ten years we've been

together, but with the exception of Trevanian's "Delight of the Razor"

neither one of us will let the other wield anything sharper than a

pound of bacon down there.


Then I popped the pills, an hour before the appointment. Initially I

SCOFFED at the puny 5mg Valium - "HAH!" I scoffed. While I haven't

consumed any alcohol in the last 12 years, I do remember that I

eventually worked up a very high tolerance for the stuff, and it has

been my understanding that Valium is cross-tolerant with alcohol.

Doctors have told me that this sort of tolerance does not recede with

abstinence, so I expected no effect from such a seemingly minuscule



Wrongo! After only 15 minutes, Mumthra was cackling at me because I

was evidently slurring my words and acting dopey. I didn't notice.

"M'nawt!" I protested, to no avail. It was kinda nice, though a little

unnerving since I haven't been buzzed like that in a long while. Five

milligrams, who woulda thunk? Sheesh!


Thus fortified, we packed Lemmy into the Minvan(tm) and headed off to

the doctor's office. (Sparky and Spunky are at Grandma's, "Bob" bless

her.) This is a urologist's office, so both last time and this time I

shared the waiting room with half a dozen geezers with prostate

problems, and one or two nervous-looking young men with their cackling

lady friends. Women really seem to get off on this snippage business,

brings out any latent misandry they may have floating about.


Drowsily skimming a National Geographic, I missed the first call from

Cheerfully Cute Elfin Nurse Sweeney. "Ready?" she asked, and maybe it

was my imagination, but it looked like her EYES were cackling.


"Fnurrr" I riposted, and teetered off to the little operating room,

leaving Mumthra and Lemmy in the waiting room. The operating room was

too small for the whole gang of us.


"Everything off below the waist," she enthused. "Dr. Bob will be with

you in a moment." I gotta hand it to these people, they are PUNCTUAL.

You know how it is, most times you make an appointment and have to

WAIT POINTLESSLY past the time of your "appointment" until they deign

to escort you to a room, where you WAIT SOME MORE for no apparent

reason. Not so at the fine offices of Twyst, Skweezit and Poke; my

appointment was at 7:45am, and she called me in to the room at

precisely 7:45am. I checked. I'm an asshole about that.


True to Cute Nurse Sweeney's words, Dr. Bob was with me in a moment.

He breezed into the room winking and chewing gum - he chewed gum

through the whole procedure, which I guess is a testament to his

surgical prowess. (Look up the etiology of the word "testimony"



Now came the time to assume the position. Ladies, your boy Jack here

has joined you in spirit, for the first thing he did was to extrude

those stainless steel foot-stirrups from the table. "Feet in the

stirrups, there you go," he said. "Scoot down some, more, okay, that's

good." There I was, my ass hanging off the table, feet pointed at the

fluorescent fixtures, and my Yeti-furred bunghole staring Cute Nurse

Sweeney in the face. I tried not to laugh. He kept having to push my

knees apart; no surprise there.


"Good job shaving," he confided. I couldn't see much, since it was

much easier to lie back and count the holes in the acoustic ceiling

tiles. The one good peek I got confirmed that Ulysses was definitely

nowhere to be found; nothing but a helmet poking out of the



"This is the only uncomfortable part," he said. "I'm going to have to

do some pulling, and then the injection. After that, you won't feel

anything." He was right, it basically felt like someone grabbing my

nuts and pulling, I guess because that's what he was doing. He then

administered the twin injections, which only hurt for about two

seconds each.


Snip, snip! After only a few minutes of gum-chewing snippage and

whatnot, he poked me with a cauterizer thingy and began the

preliminary sewing up. So fast! After he had done a minute of this, he

turned the remaining sewing over to Cute Nurse Sweeney. "You were

great!" he cheered, as he breezed out of the room, chewing happily,

probably thinking about his next boat purchase. Cute Nurse Sweeney and

I shot the breeze about medicine and jobs and stuff while she SEWED UP

MY SCROTUM and batted Ulysses out of the way, who had finally come out

for a peek. She applied two simple gauze pads to the incisions, no

tape or anything, and I gingerly stepped into my swim trunks, which

were the only garments I owned that had any kind of support to them.

I'm a boxers guy, I don't own any jockey shorts, so I think I'll have

to swipe some of Mumthra's underwear for the next week in order to

keep things from jouncing around. Don't tell her, okay?


Something made me faintly nauseous, maybe the Valium or the

anaesthetic, but otherwise the trip home was uneventful. Dear, sweet

Mumthra was kind enough to chauffeur me AND pick up my prescriptions

for Tylenol w/codeine and more antibiotics. Stuff like this just keeps

making me fall in love with her over and over again.


So here I sit, icepack on my nads, a bit woozy from the drugs. All in

all, a most excellent experience. Guys, if you're ever thinking about

getting a vasectomy, go for it. There's nothing to it. If for some

reason I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn't protest except for

the general inconvenience.


Next up: 6 and 8 week SPERM SAMPLES. Gotta make sure the little

buggers are gone. Great. I need to get the samples to the lab within

an hour of, um, production. Fortunately they don't make you go into a

room with old stuck-together issues of HUSTLER or anything, you can

just bring in the sample. The sample cups they gave me are 100

milliliters, about half a measuring cup. Good Gobbs, what do they

think I am, a donkey or something?


Anyway, news as it happens.





"People have funny-shaped minds" - Larry Wall