So what’s with all the masturbating?

The vasectomy was two weeks ago. I’m healing up nicely and the fertilization delivery tubes are no longer connected to the loading and launching apparatus. But it’s not business time yet. In fact, the office is closed until the next billing cycle. Well, maybe not closed exactly, but headquarters will need to remain quarantined during heavy trading.

I have an appointment scheduled 10 weeks from last Friday, the Snip-teenth. (Now 8 weeks.) I have been instructed to bring a sample of my reproductive catalytic liquid projectile – which should be only 95% of what it once was.


That other 5% is the important stuff. It makes babies. And we don’t want babies. That’s why I allowed needles and scissors and fingers and stitches and scabs and bruises and whiskers on my sensitivity sack.

IMG_2825-LLest we forget.

We are looking for a zero. Zero sperm. Not three. Not seventeen. Not even an amazingly impotent two million sperms. In other words, I’ll hand my sample off to some lucky sucker who gets to sit around all day sifting through jelly jars counting sperm. I hope the air conditioner is working.

And if that test turns up zero, I will be instructed to bring back a second sample two weeks later. This will be sent to another lab, so that a different lucky sucker who gets to sit around all day sifting through jelly jars counting sperm can make sure that the first lucky sucker counted to zero correctly.

But why does it take 10 -12 weeks? Let’s go to the map!

hwkb17_014_01How long did the artist spend on that faint tuft of hair?

Basically, what this hilarious drawing is depicting is a pretty basic loading and firing mechanism. But the important thing to notice here is the length of that tube. No, the vas deferens tube. It runs from the marbles all the way up to the belly button and back down underneath the pee pee pouch. That’s a long and winding road. And there’s two of them. Finally, they end up at the spongy seminal mixing chamber. And when it’s party time, a couple of drops of spermy men are added to the mix, the sexy little sponge gets squeezed, and the weapon is gleefully discharged. Cue fireworks.

Now consider this: an average man is packing 25,000,000,000 ova-piercing rounds in those tubes at any given time. That’s a lot of drops. So, it kinda takes a while to clear out the snorkel.

More fireworks.

Free Sex!

There are all sorts of financial, health and social reasons for having a vasectomy. And they are all seemingly sensible motives for wanting to avoid another infestation of children. But let’s get real. Let’s get freaky.

We all like our sexy time. In fact, we physiologically need our sexy time. In Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, its right there with food, water, shelter and maintaining homeostasis. (That’s breathing.) Basically, Justin Timberlake was full of crap. He didn’t bring sexy back, because sexy never went anywhere. Sexy has been around since forever. One day a sexy Stegosaurus caught a glimpse of another sexy Stegosaurus bent over eating some sexy leaves and said, “Hey sexy. You wanna get all sexy on each other?”

You know what the answer was.


Unfortunately for the dinosaurs, they didn’t have a Urologistasaurus. But guess what – we do. We have opposable thumbs. And we can snip things. We can continue with our beautiful human love, passion and need for gettin’ busy without the coital consequence of breeding. I’ve done my share. Twice.

I no longer feel the instinct to propagate the species. I just like touching my lady’s lady parts. I mean seriously, my wife is a babe – a totally foxy, red-hot mama. I’d post pictures of her, but I don’t want wordpress to ban me for inadvertently creating a pornography site.

imgresImage too sexy for the internet

So here’s one of the perks I’m looking forward to most after having a needle and a knife taken to my testes. Spontaneity. Sure, we’ll still have to dodge our current offspring, so that they’re tiny little minds aren’t scarred for life – but it’ll get a whole lot easier. It’s ironic, really. Kids are the result of sex. Then, once born, they are almost immediately responsible for the hindering of sex.

Well, I’m bigger. And I’m smarter. And I’ve found a workaround.

Another bonus will be getting rid of birth control. Pills are expensive – and kinda wonky on my gal’s system. And condoms? Not only are they a pain in the penis to put on, but they totally break up the sweet lovin’ action. That’s why they never show that scene in any films of ill repute. Ron Jeremy ain’t got time for that. And the feeling, of course, is vastly different – no matter what the stupid package says. Oh, and the freakin’ smell. Is that really the best the condom companies could do? C’mon, nobody ever created a perfume wafting the enticing aroma of prophylactic latex infused with spermicidal lubricant.

So let’s do it. Let’s get to the doc and drop some drawers.

I’m feeling a bit randy already.