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With a Smile On My FaceFew things in this word are actually worth dying for, some, killing for and all, living for. Scarcer, still, are those worth going to Hell for.If I am content at the end of my life, knowing that I have made the world a better place-- then I rot with a smile on my face.
This Past Summer- Balls This past summer, I had stage 1B testicular cancer. Earlier, however, my urologist had to verify that there was a tumor, and ordered for an ultrasound of my testicles. Of course, they ended up giving me two attractive, female technicians. As I stared up at the ceiling, half-naked with my penis flopped against my stomach and held in place by a towel, I couldn't help but think about how awful it'd be to get an erectionespecially considering that the technicians were rubbing a warm jelly all over my genitalia. An awkward couple of minutes later, I inquired as to "how the ball rubbin' business was going" and if they ultrasound a lot of balls. They did. After a minute or two of banter, more awkward silence, and uncomfortable eye contact, my technician asked if I wanted to "know the sex of the baby." I told her I'd wait. Preferring sarcastically, and a little literally, to stay blissfully ignorant of life-altering