This is one of those posts that I need to warn my future children about and politely discourage them from reading. (in case I haven’t explained in while one of the reasons that I write this thing is so my kids can get a different perspective on their father when they get older, hence “future children” or my current kids in the future) There are some things that can’t be unseen and even though this might make you want to read it even more… you have been warned. It’s nothing bad nor does it affect you in any way other than the tragic passing of a couple million of your potential siblings. I’m kidding because those tubes have been disconnected and I’m convinced that all released sperm are busy forming into a ball that will be the first ever documented sperm goiter but I digress.
Since I basically have the week off I decided as long as I’m getting things done why don’t I check off that sperm sample to the lab thing that has been on the list for almost a year. Yup, time to jerk off in cup and rush it to the lab to see if there are any active swimmers. During my three day prescribed abstinence I made a few calls looking for a lab to analyze my sample. I still know a number of folks working at the local hospital from my ambulance company days so I was trying to avoid any potential conversation whilst rushing my warm cup of goo to the lab.
Ten calls got me two alternatives but they were far enough away that the timing would have been close. Sample to lab has to come in at under an hour and you are supposed to keep things as close to body temperature as possible. They are all adamant about no where for you to “collect” the specimen on premise. Wait, I thought that was why I need to go there? OOOhhhh, you mean there is nowhere for me to masturbate in a cup at your facility… The first time I said that it was difficult then it got easier and funnier the next two times.
I gave up looking for an alternative location and decided on the local hospital which is ten minutes away. I locked myself in the bathroom and did the deed which wasn’t easy as EVERYONE in my house is home on this rainy summer day. I bolted out of the house without talking to anyone because, well, really? Do I need to explain that? Anyway, I got there, parked, and went directly to the lab where I stood in line with my plastic cup of ejaculate.
When I got to the front as luck would have it the line filled in behind me so five other folks got to enjoy my discomfort. I tried to whisper that I had a sample to drop off but the lab technician proceeded to project her voice as if we were in a stage production of Tom Drops Off His Wad and asks if it is a “special delivery”. No, just a sample. By the third time she used the code word I had the feeling that I missed that day in school so I handed her my written orders of embarrassment. She excepted my payload in a plastic bag as if I were handing her a radioactive piece of dog crap. I was sent downstairs to register as if I forgot that I get to pay for this particular humiliation. As I was leaving I didn’t look my fellow lab patrons in the eye.
The only fun I had with the whole thing was hinting to Liza that I just snapped one off in her car on the way to the hospital. Its the little things.