Radio Silence

Corky, Peter, and I have been lulled into a non-blogging fugue.  I can't speak for them, but I was yanked out of a state of un-writing by a private Facebook group consisting of members of General Ilia's high school Class of '90 and me, random Jersey girl.  This has got to be the filthiest message board ever, on par with the old Penthouse Forums.  From feminine squirting to breast-only lesbians, this group (un)covers it all.

One of today's topics was scrotum tightness from the female's point of view.  Within that thread, this Line of the Year was typed:

"...nothing is hotter than a solid set of nads smacking you just right to bring you to the big O!"

(Mind you, I barely know the woman who wrote this.  All I know of her is that she is 38 years old, has four kids with three husbands, and was a top gymnast in high school.  Apparently that last characteristic got her a LOT of action. According to her, Husband #2 had the nicest nads, but it couldn't make up for an abusive personality.)

A nurse-in-training replied, "You think breasts sag with age... you should see some of the sacs I've had to look at."

My response:  "Would those patients require a 'bro'?  Perhaps a 'mansierre'?  Or how about implants?"

Of course this led directly to me googling "scrotum tightening".  I'm surprised that my laptop didn't implode from the level of shame.  On a Nevada surgeon's web site, I found out that there's a word for this:  scrotoplasty.

WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT GOOGLE THAT WORD.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

SERIOUSLY.

STOP IT.