It’s snowing! Hope everyone managed to stay warm during the blizzard. But I wonder… why is it that the world panics every time there is a snow storm? Everyone runs to the store to load up on food and supplies, and there is nonstop coverage of it all over television. It’s fucking snow… not a coming apocalypse.
But hey, because of the blizzard, many people did not have to go to school or work today. I know this because everybody rushed to update their facebook status to notify the world that they had an off-day. So thank you people for that, I don’t know how I would have made it through my day without knowing that.
But I digress.
So anyway, my blog entry the other day got me thinking about other unfortunate incidents that occurred during my younger years. I thought of one in particular that still resonates in my mind.
Allow me to begin by saying that girls complain about many things that guys never have to go through in their lifetime: Menstruating, pregnancy, PMS, just generally being moody bitches, etc. But, I can tell you one thing that girls will never have to worry about, and for that they are lucky: Being kicked in the balls.
Obviously no man will ever know what it is like to give birth, but if I had to guess, it has to be fairly similar to getting kicked in the balls. I can’t even begin to explain how much it hurts. It’s not so much the initial blow as it is the after-feeling. For a good several minutes your world just shatters. You lose all hope in everything, and you just want to die so that the pain will end.
I have experienced this.
Here’s the story: I was in middle school – seventh grade to be exact. In my school, whenever it was a girl’s birthday, it was her friends’ jobs to decorate her locker with wrapping paper and balloons and other crap. It’s pretty fucking stupid, but it’s what people did. Also, the birthday girl would walk around with balloons attached to her backpack.
So, I’m leaving class one particular day, and I’m walking with my friend. We are walking directly behind a girl whose birthday it was, and thus had balloons on her backpack. This girl was fucking weird, and if I had to guess where she is right now, I’d say she went and joined some satanic cult that worships the devil. Anyhow, so we’re walking, and my friend starts tapping on the balloons on this girl’s backpack. He wasn’t doing it maliciously, just joking around, none of us were actually on bad terms with this girl at the time.
But I don’t know, she must have been having a horrible day, or something… because she did not react well to it. I, in no way shape or form, was partaking in the balloon tapping… though I did not discourage my friend; I merely watched with amusement. So this girl, clearly having had enough, turns around, and – apparently thinking that I was the one hitting her balloons – she looks me directly in the eye… and what happened next seemed to happen in slow motion: before I could even say a word, she cocks back her leg, then proceeds to swing it forward with as much force as she could possibly muster. I look down as I see her foot heading straight for my groinal area. There was nothing I can do. Inches away, I closed my eyes and brace myself for the blow. And then… contact.
…Somewhere, off the coast of some distant land… a butterfly lands on a nearby leaf. It flaps its wings, flicks its antennae, and scours the area for food. Upon spotting a daisy, it springs from the leaf and flutters over to the flower, landing on its pedal. Slowly, the butterfly begins to satiate itself by sucking the nectar from the daisy. Having eaten enough, the butterfly takes off, flapping its wings and buzzing along with the other sounds of nature as it flies off into the distance…
Three million miles away in Bellmore, Long Island… I return to consciousness while lying in the middle of a crowded hallway, clutching my private area in fear that it may never be functional ever again. There is a pain that resonates all throughout my body, and I can barely even breathe. However, using all the strength I could possibly gather, I crawl on my hands and knees to the nurse’s office, which conveniently was located in the same hallway that this incident took place in.
I stumble in, and am able to spout off enough words to describe what had just occurred.
“Kicked… down here… Very painful…”
The nurse, sympathetic towards my situation, instructs me to lie down and hands me an ice-pack. She tells me that all I could do is wait patiently for the pain to subside, and that I should be alright. After a good twenty minutes of lying motionless, I begin to feel slightly better. The nurse asks me who is responsible for committing such a heinous act, and I gladly tell her. Finally, when I am able to stand, I am told that I can return to my next class. With my pride and ego shattered, I (very carefully) walk to my next class.
I found out later that the girl would receive detention for three days. A small victory, but a punishment that does not fit the crime. However, as a firm believer in karma, I believe that she will indeed get hers one day… if she has not already.
Fortunately, all injured body parts would heal and are still fully functional. I am still a very able man, so need not worry. However, I will never forget the day when my manhood took a devastating hit, and could have potentially put an end to the possibility of there ever being little Weingrads around to roam this Earth.
Scary thought indeed.