There's a first time for everything.

Here we are, only four days into May and I have paid a middle-aged man to touch my balls.


Wow, I didn't think I'd be able to make that statement until at least July. And yes, there's more to the story. The ball-touching man in question was a doctor who was checking out a lump I found "down there." Still, it seemed unusual that he put on a CD of Barry White and lit some candles before he began? Oh well, the prognosis was, "It's probably nothing." This may be one of the few times that hearing that in reference to my "junk" is a good thing. I'll know for sure that everything is all clear after I have high-frequency soundwaves blasted into my crotch (ultrasound). Fun!!