So I've been sweating the idea that I had testicular cancer for a few weeks. You know, what with the doctors saying as much. Thanks to my freakish genetics, turns out, I don't. And yet again they can't figure out why I have the symptoms, but not the disease.
The boys may be hanging lower than ever, but knowing they get to stay a pair, they're riding high.
Figuratively of course. I'm 42. My balls droop.
The boys may be hanging lower than ever, but knowing they get to stay a pair, they're riding high.
Figuratively of course. I'm 42. My balls droop.
What a happy ending. Admittedly I hated the middle part about the balls and stuff. In either event, happy that you're still the (full) man I know and love.
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