Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Humor
The Thanksgiving Thirteen
My sis suggested I do a Thanksgiving-themed Thirteen: Thirteen Ways to Mitigate the Suckitude of Thanksgiving. (My spin. I love the combination of ‘mitigate’ and ‘suckitude’ in one sentence.) I like the idea, but I’m going to up the ante.
Thirteen Paths to a Memorable Thanksgiving: a feast which will have your family and guests talking for decades to come.
Yes, it’s not quite Thursday, but some of these suggestions require a modicum of preparation. Get shopping, people.
In the spirit of Graham Greene’s Dr. Fischer of Geneva, follow me below the fold . . .
Okay, who got sperm on the ferret cage?
I couldn’t help it. Sometimes, it . . . you know. It gets away from me.
But seriously
Karen’s family is up this weekend, which means I had a busy day baking bagels, making raviolis, and teaching Jake’s 7-year-old cousin how to use a pasta maker. Our digital camera’s battery went kaput so I’ll have to wait until the fam emails me photos. Stay tuned.
Blue Gal at The Aristocrats sent me this piece on Bill “Shocker” O’Reilly and the Minnie Mouse Gang Bang video. Every other starlet releases porn videos, so why not Minnie?
And if Minnie gettin’ done doggy by Goofy doesn’t make you grin, then check out the fine art of pussy massage.
Pussy massage video #1
Pussy massage video #2
The second video in particular is a hoot.
Work safe. Really. Unless your boss gets upset by loud shrieks of laughter.
D.
Thirteen incriminating statements
One of the problems with being shameless is that I have no chance whatsoever of (successfully) running for political office. My opponent would skewer me with my own words — as, for example, when I said yesterday, “I am no longer a sexual predator.” (So, Dr. Hoffman, when did you stop being a sexual predator?)
But I feel bad for my future opponent’s research team. I mean, on this blog I’ve written so much, it will take them days to dig up the necessary dirt. In kindness to them, I have assembled the following thirteen incriminating and/or embarrassing items (that ‘sexual predator’ one? That’s a freebie).
Hmm. Just thought of something.
Jake, you reading this? Stop.
Now we can get started.
A public service announcement
As a doctor, I often forget that what is common knowledge to me may not be common knowledge to my patients, nor to many of you. Information of vital importance doesn’t always get the attention it deserves.
Thus, I’d like to draw your attention to the following study on reducing the risk factors of prostate cancer (Journal of the American Medical Association, April 7, 2004):
Men who ejaculated most often actually had a 33% lower lifetime risk of prostate cancer, and this relationship grew stronger as men grew older.
For example, men who reported 21 or more ejaculations per month in their 40s had a 32% lower risk of prostate cancer later in life compared with those who reported between four and seven ejaculations per month. Men who reported more than 21 monthly ejaculations in the previous year had a 51% lower risk of prostate cancer.
Overall, an average of 21 or more ejaculations a month during a man’s lifetime decreased the risk of prostate cancer later in life by 33%. And each increase of three ejaculations per week during a man’s lifetime was associated with a 15% reduction in prostate cancer risk.
Hmm. Let’s do the math. In order to achieve a 100% reduction in risk, I need to average only 35 ejaculations per month for the rest of my life.
That’s a lot of sperm.
In order to get the word out, I’m thinking of selling some merchandise through Cafe Press. If you’re interested, let me know.
D.
PS: YES, I know it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, which is a buttload of controversy all unto itself; but I’m not feeling emotionally or intellectually ready to say anything intelligent about breast cancer. I have my reasons.
Prostate cancer, though . . . something I could get . . . I can work with that, particularly if it means getting out the Sex Is Good For You message.
PPS: Do you think the caption (Ask me how YOU can reduce my risk of prostate cancer) is too subtle? I dunno, maybe this would be better:
REDUCE MY RISK OF CANCER.
FUCK ME.
Yeah, no one would get confused by that.
It’s still not too late
. . . to get your own World of Warcraft epic gear.
Here is the rest of O’Brien’s armor. I see she’s wearing the Legendary Wicked Cowl of the Dominatrix — nice. Who did you have to kill to get that one, O’Brien?
In other news . . .
Company this weekend. My MIL, SIL, SIL’s hubs, and their daughter are due to arrive any time now. I’ve been shopping and cleaning all morning.
I really hope I didn’t screw up the dates on this. I’d to do all this cleaning for nuthin.
D.
Open offer
If any of my female readers would like their own legendary gear (see below), email me a photo of your panty-clad tush and I will craft phenomenal armor for you. Wouldn’t you like to be the first woman on your block to own Epic Mithril Frilly Pink Panties of the Succubus? You know you would.
If you need chest armor, feel free to send upper torso photos as well.
Email your jpg files to:
azureus at harborside
dot
com
🙂
D.
You know you play too much World of Warcraft when . . .
Your son asks, “Why are you wearing your leopard armor?”
We got some dude off the street to model those undies. Really. Some guy who just happened to be hairy like me. I mean, you don’t really think I’d put my butt up on this blog, do you?
D.
Who else is (wo)man enough for the nekkid challenge?
Over at Writer’s BBS, there’s a custom for noobs: you gotta get nekkid. For those square BBSers, getting nekkid means telling something revealing about yourself.
Here in the blogosphere, getting nekkid means GETTING NEKKID. Hell, as for that other getting nekkid, I do it nearly every day I blog. But for the record, I recently gave you this:
Getting nekkid nekkid, that takes a special breed of cat. Or, should I say, Vixen. Yes, this evening, Dean’s very own SxVixen joined the esteemed ranks of nude bloggers. And not to be one-upped, Dean has done it, too. Nice legs, Dean, but next time smile for the camera. It’s not a high school football team portrait, for heaven’s sake.
Erin O’Brien got the ball rolling, today posting an historical review of nekkid-model- with-chair photography (and she’s right. Christine Keeler really is one hot babe). So the question stands: who is next?
Here’s my short list of folks I think might be just crazy enough to take the nekkid challenge:
Gabriele! Instead of a chair, you can use some strategically positioned chain mail.
Kate! Impress the hell out of your sons. Or squick them out, one of the two.
Kris! You’ve already given us clickable cleavage. Now we want a bit o’ thigh, too.
Candy! You’ll be the talk of the Smart Bitchery.
Monica! I would never forgive my own cowardice if I didn’t include you on this list. I figure you’ll either (A) oblige the request, or (B) come up here and kick my sorry ass. Either way, you’ll be satisfying a fantasy.
No guys on the list . . . imagine that. But of course, you have Dean and me. That should be enough manhood for the whole blogosphere.
D.
P.S.: If I didn’t put you on the list, please do not be offended. The more people I include, the greater the chance someone really will come out here and kick my ass . . . probably some smelly biker named Bubba.
Which is not one of my fantasies.
Thirteen doctor jokes
Bear in mind I’m writing this WEDNESDAY night and I’m tired, and maybe you’ll forgive me for this no-brainer thirteen.
1. The cure for tapeworm. No, I don’t have a lisp, and I don’t know why Stickam saw fit to supply me with one.
3. Here’s an old one you’ve probably heard.
Butch goes to heaven and discovers, much to his chagrin, a horrific line leading up to the Pearly Gates. He waits. And he waits. He wonders, Is this a test? Will I get thrown in Hell if I show any impatience? And he waits longer still.
Suddenly, a man runs forward, jumping the whole line. He’s wearing a white lab coat and holding a little black bag.
Butch asks a passing angel, “Who was that?”
“Oh,” says the angel, “that was God. He likes to play doctor sometimes.”
(Hey, I’m saving the good ones for video.)
4. Rick, a pre-med, had to pass Organic Chemistry to qualify for med school. But when the professor launched into another hour of endless blather on the reactions of carboxylic acids, Rick snapped.
“Professor,” said Rick, “why do I need to know all this crap?”
“To save lives,” said the professor.
“Save lives? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t see the relevance of an Organic Chemistry class to saving lives!”
“It’s highly relevant,” said the professor, “if it keeps morons like you out of medical school.”
5. Chuck’s phone rings. It’s his doctor.
“Chuck, I have some bad news for you and some worse news.”
“Gimme the bad news, doc.”
“You have 24 hours to live.”
“Twenty-four . . . Doc, that’s terrible! What could be worse than that?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”
7. ‘Kay, I have to give you at least one inside joke. If you’re outside the biz, this will probably be meaningless to you. Sorry. Also . . . if you’re super-PC, you’ll probably find this one vaguely offensive.
Q: How do you say “fuck you” in Tagalog?
A: “Yes, Doctor! Yes, Doctor!”
8. A man goes to the doctor complaining of headache. He has smashed bananas in his ear canals, peas up his nose, and a cluster of grapes up his ass.
“Doc,” he says, “why am I having these headaches?”
Doc says, “You’re not eating right.”
9. Another inside joke. You have to know surgeons to get this one.
Two vascular surgeons are discussing their morning’s cases.
“What did you do this morning?” asks Dr. Schmidt.
“An abdominal aortic aneurysm repair,” says Dr. Barron. “And, oh, it was awful. Got into some bleeding, couldn’t stop it. The guy bled to death on the table.”
Dr. Schmidt roars, “WHO THE HELL WAS YOUR ANESTHESIOLOGIST?”
See, cuz we blame everyone else for our shortcomings. Get it? Get it?
10. A guy limps into the urgent care center and is greeted by the triage nurse.
“Hello!” she says. “How may I help you?”
“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing. I’d rather discuss it with the doctor.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve heard just about everything,” says the nurse. “Besides, the doctor expects me to take a complete history before he sees you.”
“If you put it that way . . . well, look, it’s like this. I have an erection ALL the time.”
True to her word, she notes down what he has said without blushing. Then she taps her pen against the intake form and says, “Hmm. Well, the doctor is awfully busy this afternoon, but I think I could squeeze you in.”
11. In the ER, the patient clutches his groin, moaning with pain. He gasps, “I have . . . blue balls.”
The ER doc calls out, “GET THE HEAD NURSE — STAT!”
12. Hold it for me.
13. My longtime readers will remember my favorite ENT joke (audio clip — yup, that’s me telling the joke).
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