I told myself that I’d never write a vasectomy post. But apparently I lied, which I’m totally comfortable with given this whole Santa Claus scam I’ve been clobbering my kids over the head with. (Say what you want about the jolly fat bastard, but you gotta give him this: he makes December bedtimes a LAY UP.)

See, I wasn’t gonna write about the big V because I believe that vasectomy posts are overdone. But a coupla things occurred to me shortly after the procedure as I sat in bed watching TV in a pain-pill-induced stupor. First, there’s no shame in crying at the end of Home Alone. It’s a tender reunion between an abandoned, vulnerable little boy and the mother who never meant to leave him.

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Photo courtesy of Loimere via Creative Commons

You know what I vowed to never write? A vasectomy post. No offense to those of you who’ve done it, but they’re all the same. Oooh. Can you believe it? I’m getting a vasectomy. That’s when they mess with your boys, man. Just think how bad that’s gonna hurt! Followed, of course, by an assortment of jokes about frozen peas. Nope. Not gonna write that post. Instead, I’m just gonna mind my own business over here and wait patiently for my vasectomy which is scheduled for December 1.

But Grand Finale was born in July. Why wait so long, you might wonder? 

[Continue reading at BabbleVoices]

Image courtesy of Meneer Zjeroen via Creative Commons