Balls

It was bound to happen, and I wasn't even the first. Countless tales of masseuses, yoga teachers, former employees, prophylactics strewn throughout the office. A good two weeks have passed since the incident, so I feel I now have the stomach to recount the ordeal in as much detail as I can muster without vomiting. It was 9am and there was a sign outside the office door saying "Yoga Practice till 9:20". Irritated, I waited in the front office and made coffee for myself. About five minutes later the yoga teacher walks in to get water from the cooler. Now, I assume then that the practice is over so I walk on back, say hello, and proceed to my desk. (It's a railroad office so I have to go through my boss' office to get to my own.) Then I see him sitting on the floor, legs crossed, in a pair of skimpy powder blue short-shorts.

Yeah.....

So, I apologize, excuse myself, and turn around to head back up front.

"Hey Alf! Check this out, she's gonna torture me. You've got to see this pose."

Now, I can't tell you how much of my morning coffee had already backed up at at this point. I stopped and said "That's ok. I'll just wait up front 'till you're done."

"No Alf, you've GOT to see this. She's gonna torture me - you'll love it."

I have to admit, the thought of him in pain did intrigue me, so I briefly turned around. The yoga teacher grabs the cup of water, which I mistakenly thought was for her to drink. Oh no... it had become lubricant. She rubbed his shoulders and forearms, then his thighs and calves with the water. He sits indian-style and proceeds to put each arms through his crossed legs then wrap them back up and around to the opposite arm. If you're having trouble visualizing this - just imagine a wet unbaked pretzel with a tuft of curly grey hair in front... only the top of the pretzel is a head and at the bottom - a crotch. He's now locked in position. The yoga teacher then grabs his shoulders with both hands and proceeds to roll his body around the mat like a fucking beach ball! I'm not even kidding. She started rolling him forward, backward, back and forth and he's all knotted up like a roll of fucking yarn. Is this a normal yoga practice? Does one have to sign a waiver before attempting something like this? I watch this entire scene play out in utter shock. Joe glances at my face and loses it. He starts laughing and she stops playing "ball" for a moment. She stops him with his torso facing me, he lets one leg loose and BLOOP! There it is. My boss' left testicle in all its glory. (Note: "Bloop", in my head, is the sound that a nut makes when hitting the floor - sort of like when one retrieves a power pellet playing PacMan.) I'm not going to elaborate, but I will say this. If ever anyone out there reading this comes into several million dollars at some point in there life, or perhaps not... if anyone out there never sees that kind of money and ends up selling carnations on a highway off-ramp, please... for the love of God.... trim. Surely this man has enough money to have someone do it for him if he's physically incapable of doing it himself. That's all I'm leaving you with.

I immediately turned away and told him I'd wait up front. He was still laughing when I closed the door and walked up front barely able to blink. It's not like this was his first show. He flashed his furry gonads to a coworker about 3 years ago during a photoshoot - I can guarantee she still hasn't fully recovered.

I haven't.