Eric Wang
Yeah, That'll Happen #8
"Oh, My Nuts"

Guys tend to forget a lot of things. Homework assignments, exam material, anniversaries, girls they hooked up with. But every man can remember, with laser guided precision, each individual painful time he's been hit in the nuts. Of course, it's always better when it happens to someone else. It's one thing that no one really has any sympathy for. Guys just enjoy other guys getting hit in the nuts. Remember David Robinson's admirals taking a big shot from Robert Horry in the 2003 playoffs? NBA fans everywhere laughed and proceeded to grab their crotches simultaneously.

The causes may be different, whether it be from a well aimed eraser, or a football (foot to balls), the results are always the same: nausea, vomiting, and spending the next day watching pornography to make sure your equipment still works. Two excruciatingly painful weeks after that party (which I don't remember very well), I thought I'd go and see a doctor about my childbearing ability, and maybe get some ointment for this frostbite incurred on my legs from the ice shoved down my pants. I can't tell you what was worse, scheduling the exam, or the exam itself. Aren't nurses supposed to have some sort of professionalism and refrain from asking questions like "So why'd the girl kick you?" Shouldn't the doctor have some common sense and not ask questions like "Have you had a vasectomy?" For the record, I was playing tackle football, not beer roshambo. And yes, I have.

I suppose the only good thing that came of this was the remedy. I received a prescription for a hospital grade protective cup, loads of painkillers, and the doctor's orders to, and I quote, "Keep your nuts small. Hopefully I don't have to explain the process in detail." He also suggested that I start watching Sex and the City. Oh wait, that's what I was supposed to do in the event that my dick fell off. God, I love Sex and the City.

Does Arby's 5 for $5 deal have anything to do with the Mad Cow disease that was going around recently? "Yeah, we gotta get rid of all this bad Canadian beef. Thank god college students are cheap." I don't care, it's too delicious.

I've never been good with phone calls. Every time I call a girl, I feel like Mikey in Swingers talking to the damn answering machine that keeps cutting me off. Except I'm way worse with answering machines.

The phrase "I'll call you" always throws me off. What does that mean? I'll call you today? Tomorrow? When you're the Last Man on Earth? I always get antsy if they say they'll call but they don't. I think all that SATC has gone to my head.

How come the Brita is never full when you need it to be?

You know what's uncomfortable? Calling a girl that you thought you previously hooked up with. Aside from a testicular exam, I think that's the most uncomfortable position I've ever been in.
Me: Hey, you wanna hang out tonight?
Her: Um, do you know who I am?
Me: Didn't we hook up last night?
Her: That was my roommate.
*Pause*
Me: Oh. Well then, tell me her name and put her on the phone.
Is it any wonder that I get kicked in the nuts?

It's amazing how much super and sub-par sound alike.

You know what an 80s party is? It's a euphemism for a bunch of douchebags and ugly chicks dressed in bad clothes, listening to bad music, and dancing horribly. I think 80s parties are the only explanation for having ugly people at a party. Oh my god, I turned into Paris Hilton.

Some guys make a big deal about their lucky boxers. They'll wear them whenever anything of significance comes up. Big test, hot date, Sex and the City finale. And they'll always claim that when they wear these lucky boxers, something good always happens. Dumbass, you wear those all the time. Everything happens to you in those boxers.

Why do some people refuse to go idle on AIM? We know you're not there, the jig is up. You're not fooling anyone.

I hate it when people ask me what the quotes in my away are from. If you had half a brain and the ability to use Google, you'd know by now. Speaking of which, the best compliment someone can give is quoting you in their profile. Unless, of course, they're posting a certain drunken revelation that I'd like to keep very very secret. This is why I can never be a secret agent.

I like it when clothes are reversible. Especially when you didn't realize they could be reversed. I now have two pairs of lucky boxers!

You know what sucks? Eventually, kids will think of LeBron James when you mention the number 23. Eventually, people will think of Ryan Adams when you play the song "Wonderwall". Getting old freaks me out. Which is why I, and many other people, love The OC. It lets us live high school vicariously through younger, much more attractive people. We've been out so long that we wish we were back. I think this is what they call a quarter-life crisis. Also, I wish that my best friend's mom looked like Kelly Rowan. Man, I'd sleep over every night.


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