*friday's Nuts **       *            *
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Get hit? Got hit? Did hit? Seen hit? Hit self?! All in the nuts.  Send it in.

Ok, I got one.

This was the second most painful experience of my young life, and I remember it vividly to this day. I was probably 12 or 13, and the family and I lived on a little bit of a farm. My dad was and still is a horse nut, and trains horses for fun, so we had and still have a couple of corral like structures around the proprety. At the time, the corral in question was brand new, my father had just constructed it from peeled logs, about 4 inches or so around, and it was very nice looking, all fresh wood andf natural looking. The bonus for me was that it was ideally spaced for climbing over, you (if you were of comparable height to my 12 or 13 year old self) could put one foot on the bottom rail, climb the second rail and third rail and either stand on the second rail and jump ove r the top, hoping to land your other foot neatly on the second rail on the other side (risky, so I almos tnever did it), or you could place your foot on the third rail and swing your leg over to put your other foot on the third rail, with plenty of clearance and little risk of missing the rail on the come down step. 

So I'd climbed over this fence like a million times, sometimes at furiously quick speeds with pursuing siblings behind me, and was pretty sure that I'd be able to tackle the fence under most conditions. Ironically, on the day of the incident, there was no rain, no dew, no dampness of any kind, it was a sunny, dry, very warm summer's day. I was out and about enjoying my life to the fullest, and decided for some reason that i needed to be on the other side of the fence. I was in no hurry and decided to take the conservative route of climbing all the way to the third rail. Unfortunately for my young self, the fence was still fresh enough to have woody tree fluids coating certian parts of it, and on the down step, I put my foot squarely in a patch of sticky but slippery tree sap. This is especially important, as my foot stuck a little bit, and slowly slid, so I had time to fully realize how my world was about to change from casual good cheer to something unpleasant. Because of the height of the rails, I completed my foot slip with my junk about a foot and a half above the top rail, and fell straight down, onto the top rail. The pain was excruciating enough to give me that "deer in the headlights" freeze and I fell off the fence sideways, conscious but not able to move all that well. No one was around and I lay in agaony and self pity on the ground for about twenty minutes before I mustered up the intestinal fortitude to cripple my way down to the house, where I nursed my young, bruised testes back to health over the course of about a week. The height involved was not impressive, but all I have to say about that is that it might as well have been for all I cared, the angle worked out perfectly or horrifically, depending on how you look at it. this whole thing happened 8-9 years ago, but I still remember it and wince like it happened last week. 

Mike O    


Hey Odd,

     Love the site, gotta a quicky story for ya bout getting struck in the junk. Me and some buddies are out golfing at a course on a summer Saturday afternoon. It was like Africa hot outside so of course we were drinking. Nothing better than hitting a few holes with the sun magnifying the buzz. Anyway, we were like at the ninth hole where Mike is about to take his second shot from the rough. He has this plan to hit the ball around this tree that was like seven feet away from him and right onto the fairway. Well, he ain't tiger woods and the tree was quite huge. He hits the ball as hard as he can only to have the ball hit the tree dead on and bounce directly back at him. You can guess where it hit him and he really dropped like a rock. Me and my other buddy, Chris, dropped dying from laughing. We thought he needed a stretcher or something but he eventually recovered and may even have kids one day. The moral, golf may be a contact sport so be sure to protect your junk with an actual cup, not a cup o'beer.

Long Island, New York


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