The morning of I ate a hearty breakfast and 10mg of Clonazapam. I expected a dreamlike opium haze, instead I was fairly mellow with a two beer buzz. The common high and shared trauma made for a social waiting room. Everyone had ginger ales and patient wives, except one man who was alone and close to passing out. They made him lay down before he left, and I wondered if he was getting the vasectomy on spec, and hoping to use it as a selling point for future partners.

My time came. I was laid out on a gurney staring at a photo of the rain forest. The doctor complemented the smoothness of my balls, then stuck a needle in my taint. “Things might heat up” he warned. Too late. He made small talk and a large incision.

“Is that much of me supposed to be outside” I asked.

“I’ll put it back” He assured.

I would have argued but I cannot imagine a situation where I had less leverage. He glued the rift shut and gave me the low down on the things that I couldn’t do, and the horrors that would occur if I disregarded his instructions. I pulled on my weirdo jock strap, chugged my ginger ale, and went home as non-procreating member of the species. I felt a certain defiant pride in opting for self sterilization…a sort of “You can’t fire me, I quit!” delivered to natural selection itself. The worst was over, or so I thought.

 

***

Tales from my vasectomy part one: A.J. Turns the nurse against him

Tales from my Vasectomy part two: The preparation

Tales from my vasectomy: The Procedure

 

Concluded in part 4: The aftermath

“You can’t have anymore wine until you shave your junk. And make sure you use the dry shave razor they gave you.”.

The wine in question was about half a bottle, enough to calm the heart but not unsteady the hand. The razor was a blue disposable number that was intended to be used dry, but not engineered in any way to make that feasible. I tried a practice swipe near my hip bone and it removed a patch of skin, while somehow leaving the hair in place.

“Fuck this, I’m getting wet and using a five blade razor that has earned my trust”

Continue reading →

I didn’t mean to antagonize my vasectomy nurse. The phone rang, I said “Hello” and the voice on the other side asked “Is that Allan?” Puzzling. Is what Allan? I assumed she was referring to me but the odd open had me thinking telemarketer. “Pardon me?” I said. “Is that Allan” she asked again, sounding annoyed but providing no additional information.

“I am Allan, to whom am I speaking”.

I will admit this came out a little snarky.

“This is Contentious Pam from the dick doctor (1), why didn’t you pickup your kit?”.

Continue reading →

Overview:

Over the course of this series I have reviewed the feckless and pitiable beast of Scotland, the twisted object lessons of Greek mythology, and the bloodthirsty child murdering perverts of Slavic and Germanic myth. Some were monsters worthy of the name, some cruel by circumstance, and others fearful only in appearance. The motivation of the Lange Wapper, the shape-shifting giant of Flemish legend, defy easy categorization. A little backstory.

The Lange Wapper was born in Wilrijk in the 16^th century. And by born I mean a farmer found an enormous garden parsley and red cabbage in his bed, and when the farmer touched the abandoned produce it transformed into a baby. The farmer, a confirmed bachelor,  gave the mysterious infant to his neighbor. The fact that the Lange Wapper was born as two separate vegetables that spontaneously changed into a single human baby is never mentioned again, and has nothing to do with his trademark shape-shifting and size changing abilities. He acquired those as a reward for thwarting a local youth gang’s attempt to throw an old women in the river.

Continue reading →

Continued from Part 1: Soulmates and Self Help

Who should I date?

 

This question is fair but useless. You should date someone compatible, but that is a slippy metric that changes over time. Imagine a restaurant where they will craft your ideal sandwich, but you have to specify the ingredients and preparation. You might stutter out a workable combination, but you would be filled with doubt, and the dread of missed opportunity would haunt your meal. But if the waiter asked if he should spit in your water, or fart in your dates face, your answer would be immediate and authoritative. We understand the generalities of the things that we like, and the specifics of the things that we do not. People are more complicated than sandwiches, so it helps to lay out a few disqualifying factors to weed the undateables out of the field early.

Do they need a job? What level of hygiene is acceptable? Will they correct peoples grammar at parties? Do they have ferrets? The specifics of the undateables are going to vary from person to person, but there are some red flags you should at least consider.

Are they bartenders, actors, or lead guitarists/singers in a band?

Do they Roll their eyes and sigh when they disagree with people?

Have they recently exited a serious relationship?

Are they are currently in a serious relationship?

Are they indecisive, yet consistently critical of other peoples decisions?

Do they only have friends of the opposite gender?

Do they only have friends of the same gender?

Do they have friends?

Do they frequently complain of “Drama” that they cannot escape, yet have no culpability in creating?

When they are upset does it become everyone else’s problem?

Continue reading →

I am a judgmental man with strong opinions and very few solutions; the human equivalent of a check engine light: quick to alarm, short on details, and of no real use in a crisis. It’s not that I don’t want to help, but my broad sense of superiority is undercut by my narrow range of expertise. This has no effect on my confidence, or willingness to give advice on any subject, but the end result often borders on negligence. There are three categorical exceptions: Lifting stuff, Night Hammocking, and Adult Romance.

What qualifies me to give romantic advice? Nothing, and everything. I’ve been happily married for a decade, but I mostly lucked into that. When was single I did okay, but I suspect that was passable good looks propping up unsound game theory. On the surface my romantic expertise seems another empty boast, until you consider my profession; I am a personal trainer. Ninety percent of my job is identifying correctable patterns and repairing flawed decision making; that is the whole of human behaviour and I have been cheating the world by not sharing my findings in a public fashion. That changes today.

Sam The Turtle’s Complete Guide To Romance

Sort yourself out first

If you go fishing with an unstrung line, in a boat with a hole in it, it doesn’t matter if the fish are biting, you are unlikely to catch any and drowning is a real possibility. Now you might argue “ What if I bail furiously the whole time and jab at the fish with my rod? If I find the right spot on the lake it might work”. It might, but you also might want to consider that an empty line is the least of your deficiencies. Continue reading →