Dude, I am soooo seven years old today.
Hubs and I stopped into EarthFare on the way home to pick up some fresh mozzarella (which, as you should know, are made into balls) to go with the tomatoes we’ve been getting from our garden. As we got to the refrigerator aisle, he handed me the shopping bag and said, “Here. I’ll you pick your balls while I go look at some bread.”
No doubt this opening salvo was fired in complete innocence, but the unexpectedness nearly dropped me. I was laughing so hard, I had to lean on the refrigerator cabinet so as not to fall. In time, I recovered, and did indeed pick my balls (a container of several little ones). I met hubs at the bread aisle and asked him, “So do you want little balls or large balls?” We spent several minutes cracking each other up about this, eventually settling on the larger balls (don’t ask).
By the time we got to the register, we were beyond help. At the check-out, we were halted briefly as the cashier changed out her money drawer, while our groceries sat on the conveyor line. I tried to keep it in, but wound up leaning over to hubby and saying, “I’m so not going to make the obvious joke about my balls being on the line here.”
He giggled. I giggled. The check out girl looked at us funny. I tried to keep a straight face, but eventually just wound up telling her that we had spent the last 15 minutes wandering the store making silly ball jokes about our cheese. Fortunately, she had a great sense of humor and admitted that the style of cheese was essentially begging for the jokes. I asked hubby if he wanted to hold his balls while he paid for the groceries. He said no, he preferred it if I held his balls. We both wound up leaning on each other on the way out, we were laughing so hard.
Luckily, we made it out of the store before it got any worse. Which it quickly did, as I realized what I was holding in my hand: A sack. Of balls. Oh yes, I went there. And that was the end of any shreds of decorum we had left.
After that, it just went downhill. There were balls in their own juice, comments on the whiteness, smoothness and roundness of the balls, questions of whether or not I was going to keep the balls in my lap or let them rest on the floor, the cheesy quality of the balls and so on. I’m surprised we managed to drive home without getting into a wreck.
Jesus Christ, what is it about balls that is so farking funny? Funny enough to drive a grown woman to the far reaches of increasingly juvenile humor, anyway?
PENIS!!!
Tags: balls, cheese, penis
