Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

My balls aren't bouncing...

I've had the most amazing experience recently which has provided me all kinds of sympathetic reactions to those who are REALLY handicapped, to wit: I have recently experienced negative physical reactions to previously undertaken ball surgery. Testicular treatment. Yes, this lovely predicament dates back to when I was 15 years old, and I had the oh-so-unusual "testicular cancer" diagnosis (rare for 15 year olds) and since the "cut em up shut em up", I am basically feeling-free where it comes to the nerve reaction that make the sex thingy work. Cause they apparently cut all them there nerves during the surgery, and they never regenerated.

This creates problems for your Nigel vis a vis getting it off, and also finishing up. Takes me a loooonnnngggg time. I feel very little, especially when the occasional oral is offered up (this typically costs about $35...but I feel...nothing).

Regardless of my inability to experience much "down there", I have had lately some disturbing symptoms that have resulted in me spending some time in a wheelchair.

So, practical question? What to do when it comes to tennis practice? Seriously! I love me some tennis, and with that in mind need to find someone capable and comfortable teaching for your loyal Nigel regarding what's required in order to kick ass and win, tennis wise. I follow the Polish model, which is: play, kill, destroy. End of story. Need me a Polish coach. Them there polacks are the fucking greatest at everything: they were mega-shmega in confronting the Nazis, they didn't fuck around when it came to the resistance, and when it came to immigrating to the US, well, fuck, they went to Michigan, but almost as soon as possible (because they're smart) said: "Hey, wait a minute! It's cold as hell here! Let's move down South." As a result, we here in Atlanta are effectively over-run by tall, gorgeous, sexy Polish-American women, who are good tennis players, and who also provide high quality wanking imagery plus the good coaching to those of us who are occasionally differently-abled.

So, I have me a Polish-American tennis coach, who regularly berates my handicapped-ass, and makes me feel small (in more ways than one). But I truly love her, because among other thing she is smoking hot and provides endless fantasies for your Nigel...plus of course all the fun things she can do for me, as far as the wheelchair tennis goes. So, I am a happy boy. Peace out.'

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 3:21 PM