* (WARNING: particularly painful) 
Monday*s Nuts*       *            *
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Hey! I need more balls stories or the poems are coming back! Send it in.

After this round of nuts I'm thinking about going back to poets for a while. Send in a poem ya poet!

Hi Todd,

Here’s a story of Catholic School ritualized ball bashing or as we use to called it “love tree.” And no it doesn’t involve any priests. Back in the day when I was attending Holy Trinity grammar school in San Pedro, CA (we called it Holy Tragedy), there occurred on a regular basis such loathsome and feared event, that even now my boys are high and tight in painful memory.  We had two play yards, one for the kids from first grade to sixth, and then there was the nearly unsupervised second yard where all the 7th and 8th graders played.  

As in all playgrounds, prison yards, and corporations, a certain hierarchy was in place, alliances were made, strengths tested and the weak eliminated….but a tenuous peace was kept through swift,  immediate and sometimes arbitrary justice. Sometimes the orders were well thought out, sometimes they were spontaneous, but in any event an order would be given to thin out the weak and initiate the new 7th graders or any other unfortunate underling who should venture in the yard.  The most severe of these punishments was known as the Love Tree. Much like a pride of lions, the yard enforcers would seek out and identify a prey, then they’d quietly position themselves to keep the prey from fleeing or making it to the yard supervisor….and then a call would go out, first a whisper which would be picked up by others, then more joined in the chorus and soon they whole yard was chanting “Love Tree” “Love Tree” “Love Tree” “Love Tree.”  The sound of it was so primal in its nature that all in the yard would immediately freeze and then in an instant scatter in a panic driven sprint and try to hide the best they could….all except the prey, who would be pounced up by the love tree enforcers who would grab the prey, two each on a leg, three or four on the upper body.  The leg men would pry apart the legs of the writhing prey and all together the team would run towards one of the trees in the yard, ignoring the pleas of the victim, and run him, legs spread eagle straight into the tree (much like a battering ram), after a few runs at the tree, the team was pretty well spent, and in all likelihood one of the penguins (nuns) would be on the seen by then, the victim curled up on the ground like some rag doll (and who would usually have a nurses note excusing him from PE for the rest of the week)….and then we’d all go back to playing in the yard, the natural order of things restored to the yard.  Myself, fortunate to have been a part of the ruling cabal only had the treatment happen to me once, almost, after some total breakdown of school yard alliances, but I was able to struggle free and avoid the Love Tree, nuts intact.  Surprising we didn’t paint ourselves up and run around with a pig’s head on a stake. More surprising, I don’t think one serial killer has emerge from that school.  

Love Tree to you all!



Being the sadistic chick that I am, I usually try to suppress a fat smile
when I see a guy take a hit to the groin. There was once, however, that even
I felt sympathy pains. I was watching my boyfriend at the time play Ultimate
Frisbee in a club tournament. Another guy on the field must have come down
with the disc wrong because he fell to the ground and yelped out of pain. It
didn't take the trainer long to see that he had popped his hip out of
socket. The trainer hurriedly pushed his leg back in place. Immediately the
guy screamed louder! In the trainer's haste, he has mistakenly trapped one
of this guy's little boys inside the joint! At this point, the trainer had
to pop the guy's leg back out of socket, move his testicles out of the way,
and pop the joint back together again. All the while, the guy was howling
with pain. I had never seen such a tough guy scream and cry so much.



Haven't seen a story like this one, although it is second hand, but you
asked for more material, so here it goes...

I used to date a pre-med student--his father was an abdominal surgeon. I
heard this from the student rather than his father and couldn't quite look
at the good doctor the same way after hearing this story.  Apparently Dr.
Dad had had a few glasses of wine and he was thinking about the
conversation with his wife about getting a vasectomy to prevent any
'unexpected blessings' in their retirement years.  I guess he figured 'no
time like the present' because he proceeded to give himself his own vasectomy.

Keep in mind that doctors have samples of medications, syringes and all
sorts of interesting stuff in their houses. [Have a headache while at a
doctor's house?  As for something and count how many choices you're host
will come back with...]  So he happened to have some local anesthesia, a
syringe, a mirror, the right tools, and needle and threat to close up the
job.  After doing a nice neat job of opening and detouring those swimmer
freeways once and for all, he began to close the opening in his scrotum
only to realize that one's wrist doesn't bend the right way to sew stitches
on that area of one's anatomy.

He apparently had to call a neighbor [also a surgeon] to come over and
close him up.  His friend gave him a 'C' on foresight but an 'A' for effort.


Got a story involving someone being hit or hitting upside the testicles in one way or another?

If you sent yours in a while ago and you're mad that it's not been featured yet please resend.

Also let me know where you're from...

Send it in.

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