My doctor found a lump in my ball sack today, and it's probably just a harmless cyst or something - but it scared the living shit out of me. Here's what ran through my head . . .
"I haven't accomplished anything in this life. I've been putting off writing my next play for way too long, and it will never get done. If we continue to put things off, our goals, our dreams, then we are wasting the precious life that we are granted. Shit, all I've done is try to stay out of debt and get drunk on the weekends. That's it. I don't see my family nearly enough, I don't tell them how much I love them nearly enough, and I don't don't do nice things for them out of the blue nearly enough.
Where is Gancey Girfriend when I need her? Would if my screwed up balls kill me or make me sterile? Her and I will never get to make those tall good lookin' babies we're always talking about. Gosh, I love her. I need to be better to her. I just want to hug her, and she'll tell me everything is okay. She'll rub my head and say, 'It's okay, Dr. Ken. Your nuts are just fine. You're not going to die cause I won't let you because you're the sexiest man alive, lumpy nuts or not.' I really do need her, and I need that hug. I wonder if this doctor would let me hug him right quick. You know, I really trust this guy. He's the awesomest doctor ever. When I had that horrible, horrible diahrea where I thought I was going to die, where even water was getting rerouted to my butt somehow, he told me to just drink a ton of Gatorade, and voila! It came out my dick hole like it should! This guy's smart. He'll take care of my nuts."
PS- There's a far less serious post below this one. Try to comment on both if you're in the commenting mood because I'm doing 2 a day still when I publish to get caught back up to 365 in 365. XOXO - Dr. Ken.