Rest easy. I'm out of the gene pool.

Having a vasectomy was a horrible experience. Imagine lying on a table naked with your feet in some stirrups and your balls in some guy's hand. It's kinda like summer camp, without all the romance and Smores. Then, they send you home with an ice pack, some Vicadin, and one of those lamp-shade dog collars so you can't lick the stitches.

Then there's the awkward moment when you finish the procedure. What's the protocol? Do you shake the doctor's hand? Do you hug?

As I was leaving the office, the doctor said, "Now you might see some bruising and swelling of the scrotum." There's the understatement of the year. My balls were so purple and swollen, they looked like that girl "Violet" from Willy Wonka.

Violet aka "My Balls"

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