The craziest thing I ever did in Vegas was I slept on my dick wrong and thought I gave myself ball cancer. My friend Ryan and I decided the best way to save money in Vegas was to stay up all night drinking and then check into a hotel in the morning. Not not drink. Not not gamble. Just get trashed and hit on Greek women while wearing skinny jeans for the first time. I know, I know but it was Vegas and I wanted to party.
Now this was all a good idea until 7AM, which is when your body goes to sleep wherever you happen to be. It was too early to check into the hotel, so we decided to nap in the car. It was parked outside and it was so hot that we slept with the doors open. If you walked by, you would have seen two shirtless guys just splayed out in a 1999 Honda CRV not giving any of the fucks. It looked like we had just gotten in an accident, but there was no damage to the car whatsoever. When I woke up, my balls hurt. And my mind immediately jumped to, “Ohmygosh I have testicular cancer.” That’s because cancer doesn’t run in my family, it sprints.
When I got back home, I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood, which is a great place to go if you want to see lives that did not go according to plan. I walked in with ball cancer, took a look at the waiting room and still thought, “Things are going ok for me. I’m doing pretty good.”
Before you see the doctor, you have to do a short interview. The attendant asked me what was wrong. To everyone’s surprise, I started to tear up and say, “I think, I think I may have testicular cancer.” He looked up from his clipboard and said, “Whoa, that sucks” and leaves. Harsh, but he wasn’t wrong. It did suck. It was actually the same diagnosis my friend Ryan gave me, but Ryan’s not a nurse. Although he is the one who told me to go to Planned Parenthood.
A few minutes later the doctor comes in and it’s not just a doctor, it’s the most beautiful doctor I have ever seen. She was blonde, 6ft tall, and just so damn pretty. She looked like a sexy viking, but like a smart sex viking. She exuded confidence and control. Without even looking up from the clipboard, she said, “Testicular cancer, eh? Drop em.”
Now some people might be thinking that I came down with a case of the boners. Nothing could further from the truth. First off, my penis wasn’t even looking good. Because there are times where the penis can look awesome. I can only speak for myself here, but there are times when my penis looks awesome. LIke it’s a mighty sword of justice sent to do battle with an evil vagina. But this time it was just flaccid and sad. When a penis is flaccid, it looks like something God forgot to tuck in. It was like God was working on the penis, but then he went to lunch thinking “Oh I’ll finish this up later” but when he came back, everyone said, “The penis? We already shipped that out for production.” And then God goes, “Zoiks! The Holy Spirit is gonna kill me!!”, because I imagine God is a lot like Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
So as she was examining me, I was staring at the ceiling tile bracing myself to hear what I already knew — that I have testicular cancer. And she said, “Sir, everything feels completely normal.” And this is where I should’ve agreed, because she is a doctor and I am not a doctor. Instead, I said, “Here let me show you” and knocked her hand out of the way.
So there I am, boxers around my ankles, hand on my penis, staring directly at the doctor, fondling myself. And that’s when I slowly realize, “Oh… everything does feel kinda normal. Actually I think everything is normal. Maybe I’ve just been in my head about all this? OH NO SHE THINKS I CAME IN HERE JUST TO GET MY DICK TOUCHED.” But it’s ok. I’m a comedian. I get paid for being quick on my feet. So what do I say to get out of this pickle?
“Oh, it was there just a second ago.”
At that point, I knew what it felt like to have another human look at you with true disgust. I immediately tried to backpeddle. I was like, “Nonono I’m not one of those guys” which is exactly what one of those guys would say.” And then I realized, when I was in Vegas I was wearing my skinny jeans (because it was Vegas and I wanted to party). And I remembered reading an article where skinny jeans could actually do nerve damage by cutting off circulation. I thought, “Well I slept in those jeans. This is what probably happened to me and caused the real pain that I felt.” Now what I told you is what I wanted to tell her, but Instead what came out was:
“My skinny jeans must have hurt my dick!”
And she said, “Well I suggest you buy some new jeans and get out.”
So she left and I looked down at my dick and thought, “What trouble are we going to get into next?” Psst, hopefully Asian.
– @ronbabcock (Los Angeles, CA, USA)