'twas the night before er...you know...

So here we are again. The eve of another 'sample' giving.

What will the morning bring?

Hopefully I won't see Spencer tomorrow, all going to plan he is already heading an expedition up through the fallopian wilderness, a la Indiana Jones, with words of inspiration ringing in his wee spermy ears.

Mind you, I sincerely hope he is raiding a bloody egg and not a lost ark, although with my guys you never really know what they've got planned, and with women's bits you never really know what you'll find.

Either way, we'll know the answer to that particular poser in a little over a week.

The chances are I wouldn't recognise him in the crowd anyway, not being racist or anything, but they do all look quite similar. The ones with two heads or tails aside of course.

All in all, my concerns before the previous 'handover' are all but gone.

While I'm no sharpshooter, I know I can aim well enough from close range, and if the previous attempt is anything to go by I shouldn't have the mental trauma of delivering not too fast nor too slow, but just right.

Kind of like a masturbating version of 'goldilocks & the three bears'.

I refuse to think about handing it over again, that just makes my testicles huddle together for comfort.

On the bright side, (I use that term in a manner as loose as an Australian's morals), I've been 'saving up', and therefore the questionable volume (again, amount, not noise levels) of semen from the previous time, should be improved upon.
Although bearing in mind the size of the bloody container, we may need to put some paper down.

I could be optimistic and hope that this sample turns out to be as productive as Doodaddy's sample which has apparently yielded interesting results. As much as I want to kick him in the 'nads right now, I'll just say congratulations. You greedy maggot.

So, the only remaining question is, bedroom, bathroom, living room, office, kitchen or garden shed?

Maybe I should remove my shoes and socks, take a paddle and join in with the frogs....

Walking the walk

All silliness aside, if you have any conscience pay a quick visit to "all that comes with it" to read a very special guest post by Neil and Rachel.

I'm not going to quote any of it, it simply MUST be read.

Neil & Rachel have founded a charity in memory of their son, The Joseph Salmon Trust.
Dan & 10 others are embarking on a fundraising walk this Summer to help support this organisation.
How about clicking even a wee bit more and helping the cause. Let's face it, Dan doesn't exactly look the picture of health now does he? and 78 miles could rightly finish him off.

Why not give a couple of quid to support parents & families who have lost children? Paypal, credit & debit cards all accepted.

What's 1, or 2, or 5, or 10 bucks, quid, coconuts or euro to you eh?
How about just giving the amount you'll spend on donuts this week, you could probably do with losing a bit of weight anyway.
Or the price of that trashy mag you'll pick up at the checkout at the supermarket, I'll even tell you what is in it, Britney's still nuts, someone famous has adopted a baby from somewhere with no running water, and it turns out Michael IS Latoya.

IF you give a wee something, I promise not to mention this again*.

Go on, do it now, I'll wait.........

.....waiting....

..................still waiting..................

..............................................go on....................

....done? Good. Now don't you feel better?

Now piss off, and come back tomorrow when I will revert to talking about my defective semen or my general rubbish reproductive ability or most probably my impending sperm run. Bet you can't bloody wait.

*For at least 2 weeks.

Fool's day

Yes it's Fool's Day and not Fools Day. Denoting ownership, my ownership, not pluralisation.

It's Fool's Day because it's MY day.

My day because it's day number 300 that I haven't managed to get anyone knocked up. (how can that figure be correct? thats 10 months, but we're currently in cycle 12, hmmmm)

My day because it's seven years exactly since I moved to this godforsaken country.

My day because it's seven years exactly since I started my first job in this godforsaken country.

My day because it's two years exactly since I started my third job in this godforsaken country.

My day because it would have been the day I started my fourth job in this godforsaken country, had I accepted it.

My day because I drink beer from glasses bigger than my own head.

My day because I clean the steamed up bathroom mirror with my discarded underwear.

My day because it's one year since I had ET distraught at the news that Colin Firth had gone to meet his maker following a car accident.

My day because in two days I get to knock one out into a plastic pot again.

My day because you can find the first 'Rash review interview with Grandmother & Granddaughter supreme, Kim over on the Frog Pond that Rocks. That's HERE for the simpletons among you. It might not make your life any better but you'll get to hear her say stuff like:
"I was raided by the drug squad...Luckily I had just smoked all the dope..." and "It was a beautiful right hook.... The skanky ho deserved it"....
If you stay awake long enough you'll also get to hear her answer to the age old question "Do you think it's an insult to your cooking if your son has taken to eating birth control?"

My day because I've given up on trying to conceive and decided to buy a couple of cuties instead. Not being one to do things by halves, I've gone for a double whammy, details to be found here.
I'm very grateful for the weak US dollar and my rogue-ish Irish charm.

Stick around, the day ain't over yet...