A post from the Jasper Chronicles
Last week, I talked about swapping stories as a great way to share posts with other bloggers, but not our regular readers who include co-workers and families. The Jasper Chronicles took me up on it.
When Steve offered up his space for other bloggers to post topics of a sensitive nature, I jumped at the chance. My co-workers read my Blog, and if you consider the nature of the following missive, you'll understand why I've chosen to post this on the safe haven of The Hygiene Chronicles.
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Six weeks ago I got a vasectomy. That in itself is not earth-shattering, and aside from a few awkward moments at the office - "So how ARE you doing?" - I didn't really care if my co-workers knew or not. No my problem stems from the post-op follow-up, here's the deal.
1) Sometime this week I'm supposed to produce a sample of my semen for
testing, to make sure the vasectomy went according to plan.
2) The doctor is only available in the afternoons.
3) Semen samples are only "fresh" for four hours.
You do the math! Somehow during the workday I have to blow my wad into a cup. If that isn't enough of a turn-off, I don't actually have anyplace private to do the deed.
My office walls are frosted glass, so even with the door shut people can see my silhouette, and a silhouette of guy jacking-off looks pretty much like you'd expect it to.
The cool confines of the building washroom might work, although I think performance anxiety would get the better of me. It's damn inappropriate to 'pull-the-goalie' in any public place, not to
mentioned I'd be mortified if someone somehow caught me. Then there's the problem of visual aids.
I could try to do this at my doctors office, but performance anxiety would get me there too. It's one thing to produce a sample, it's an entirely different matter to say, "Let me go into the backroom and get that sample for you. Back in a few minutes."
If my doctor was available in mornings, I could take care of this at home. As it stands my only option is to rent a hotel room and have a nooner with my wife, which doesn't actually sound all that bad now that I think about it.
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So thanks for use of your blogspace Steve. As you can imagine, if my co-workers caught wind of my dilemma, I'd feel pretty conspicuous. "Gee, why is everyone following me around with a box of antiseptic wipes? Oh... right, it's because I'm disgusting."
When Steve offered up his space for other bloggers to post topics of a sensitive nature, I jumped at the chance. My co-workers read my Blog, and if you consider the nature of the following missive, you'll understand why I've chosen to post this on the safe haven of The Hygiene Chronicles.
--------------------------------------------------
Six weeks ago I got a vasectomy. That in itself is not earth-shattering, and aside from a few awkward moments at the office - "So how ARE you doing?" - I didn't really care if my co-workers knew or not. No my problem stems from the post-op follow-up, here's the deal.
1) Sometime this week I'm supposed to produce a sample of my semen for
testing, to make sure the vasectomy went according to plan.
2) The doctor is only available in the afternoons.
3) Semen samples are only "fresh" for four hours.
You do the math! Somehow during the workday I have to blow my wad into a cup. If that isn't enough of a turn-off, I don't actually have anyplace private to do the deed.
My office walls are frosted glass, so even with the door shut people can see my silhouette, and a silhouette of guy jacking-off looks pretty much like you'd expect it to.
The cool confines of the building washroom might work, although I think performance anxiety would get the better of me. It's damn inappropriate to 'pull-the-goalie' in any public place, not to
mentioned I'd be mortified if someone somehow caught me. Then there's the problem of visual aids.
I could try to do this at my doctors office, but performance anxiety would get me there too. It's one thing to produce a sample, it's an entirely different matter to say, "Let me go into the backroom and get that sample for you. Back in a few minutes."
If my doctor was available in mornings, I could take care of this at home. As it stands my only option is to rent a hotel room and have a nooner with my wife, which doesn't actually sound all that bad now that I think about it.
---------------------------------------------------------
So thanks for use of your blogspace Steve. As you can imagine, if my co-workers caught wind of my dilemma, I'd feel pretty conspicuous. "Gee, why is everyone following me around with a box of antiseptic wipes? Oh... right, it's because I'm disgusting."
Labels: Other Bloggers
posted by Anonymous at
7:42:00 AM
5 Comments:
You could always pick up a hooker and get your monies worth in the car on the way to the doctor.
Plus, I think handjobs payments are still based on the barter system, you could probably haggle one pretty cheap.
Loving this new feature!! Now we're really going to hear the dirt. But Steve, since I'm not a co-worker how will I find your tell-all posts?
Re: The Location
Can you park in some remote location and have phone sex with your wife? Come on, you've done stranger things when you were dating. Or what about sitting at your desk in your office? People wouldn't know what was going on underneath the desk would they? I think the phone sex is key. No visuals needed, no possible embarrassment of dropping them on the subway.
Just an idea.
My husband has a hiarious story involving similar restrictions. The story involves a car, a deserted road, and an axiety about how deserted the road might actually be.
I have a story about the second drop off, which I delivered in a brown paper bag. Not nearly as hilarious, but somewhat amusing.
Steve, thanks for posting this for me! I owe you one.
Whit: I have never paid for sex, so how do you barter a handjob? "Let me get this straight. $60 for the full deal, $40 and you only use three fingers?"
Mamma and Yondalla: My car is public transit, so I don't think I could pull it off. (Get it? Pull it off? Ha ha?) Even if the bus was deserted, all those windows...
Wow! I actually wrote a short film about this. Too funny.
I think I can do the deed at work. In fact I know I can...
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