After reading this, in which Oorgo gets spayed like an English Sheep dog, my testicles hurt. I know is all in my head, but my balls hurt none-the-less. How could they not?

I canÂ’t imagine experiencing this:

“Don't believe them when they say it doesn't hurt… It felt like somebody plugged a 9 volt battery onto one of my boys: electric shooting pain.”

IÂ’m sorry, but thereÂ’s no way IÂ’m ever doing that. Meanwhile, back at the scene of the crime, it gets worse:

“Follow the instruction for pre-op. If they say shave the area, shave the friggin area. You really don't want some grumpy bitch in scrubs taking a hoe to your private parts, the one who did mine apparently thought she was working in the friggin garden or scraping of her windshield.”

I canÂ’t imagine having my groin shaved by a stranger. At least it was a woman. Imagine if a 300 pound man in an Italian sweater came in and started lathering you up? How many years of therapy are we talking about?

My rule is simple. NO ELECTIVE SURGERY.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 07:04 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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