GranolaBox

I’ve ordained that this week shall be deemed “Official Granola Box Sperm Week” in honor of my impending vasectomy. After a lifetime of diligent service, I’m shutting down the factory on Friday. I thought it only fitting to devote at least a week’s worth of posts to the system that’s served me so long and so well.

From the first time they left the chute during a very vivid dream involving my friend Tim’s extremely hot older sister my sperm cells have, like Don Quixote, been fighting boldly, but largely in vain. If one is condemned to eternal damnation for wasting one’s holy seed, I stand with a million of my brethren condemned.

Despite the millions wasted, I think if there was something like a “Potency Hall of Fame,” I coulda been a contenda. My boys attacked like ninjas. It’s almost as though all the chemicals that the anti-drug propaganda said would slow them down and make them stupid made them mutate into a lean, mean fighting force.

They defied the odds. Two of my daughters were conceived, as near as we could figure, within the first month of trying. Even when given the opportunity to storm the shores came (no pun intended) only once a month at one point, they won the beach and helped make another daughter.

Yes, my sperm bore the x chromosome proudly, and I’ve got a small, a medium and a large daughter to prove it.

So, this weekend, tubes fused and walking bow-legged, I’ll remember them fondly.

Filed under: General Observations on October 15th, 2007