Then I started hearing from friends where people they have known have had something-or-another grow back or fuse back together, or whatever the heck happens, and they ended up with one kid too many. I don't want to sound insensitive to anyone who is trying to have a kid and cannot, but the idea of being responsible for a third child right now sounds like an absolute nightmare, so I made a point to finally book my test to see if there were any baby-makers in my baby batter.
It turns out Mrs. Noisewater needed to go to the same hospital for something around the same time, so we rode our bikes there together. That morning some guy in Chicago tried to evade an arrest at a police station and shot three police officers, one of which was taken to the hospital we were going to, so every intersection within a square mile was swarmed with cops, probably amounting to fifty cops in all - not exaggerating. So it was tough to find a route in, but I was not going to let a tragedy stand in the way of my nut inspection. No way.
The nurse took down my information, handed me a cup, and said that I could go to the bathroom back down on the first floor. In all the movies they provide you with a nice room that is just for wanking, but that just is not the reality anymore. Maybe they just figure that if people got all that information on their phones, then why provide archaic DVD's, VHS's, and sticky magazines? I get that part, but why make me use a bathroom that everyone else needs to do their #1 and #2? Because while I'm in there doing a #3 all that knocking on the door is going to throw off my concentration. I had to rule out anything with sound because how do I look a someone in the eye who needs the bathroom for an emergency when I'm making them wait because in there pleasuring myself standing over the fold-out baby changing station? Don't judge me about the baby changing station. It's where they sent me and that was the best flat surface available to set down my phone and the vial.
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| Nothing like this was afforded to me. |
I won't go into too much detail (Yes, I will), but when I was eventually able to finish, I don't want to brag, but because of the recommended three days of abstinence, I powered off a blast Peter North would have tipped his hat to. The initial shot missed the cup, but thankfully I was able to dribble the majority of it into the test tube. When I was cleaning up I felt like Ben Stiller in Something About Mary because that first fleet out was nowhere to be found. That's when the knocking started at the door, but I really did want to get everything tidied up good so that some poor baby's head didn't lie his little head of hair directly into my joy juice. I had a backpack with baby wipes on me knowing I would need to do some clean up, but what good was that when I couldn't find some of it?
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I guess where that sucker landed will just have to be one of those mysteries for the ages. Hey, the fact that an old man like me can still have a Bermuda Triangle sneaky turbo jettison like that is something to hang my hat on. Or something hanging off someone's hat?
How you doing out there readers? Sorry for the delay in posts, but I'm going to try to make sure I get around 10 posts per month, even if I'm off to a rough start. Been to any doctors lately? Any good indicators that you're not quite as old as you thought you were? Anything else at all you want to share - doesn't have to be gross like what I have told you?
