Bart and Di(ana) went to the vet recently. I mean, they didn't take themselves, obviously, but they were there nonetheless. I left this apartment with a boy and a girl kitty and I came back with two boys. DIANA HAS BALLS! That is embarrassing. Not her having balls, but me not realizing it. The conversation went like this:
Vet Tech (holding up Diana's tail): This must be the little boy.
Me (internally): Oh, damn.
Vet Tech (holding up Bart's tail): Oh, and another boy! Brothers!
Me (outloud): Oh, damn.
Instead I imagine it more like this:
Vet Tech: Oh, and another boy! Brothers!
Me: Oh, geezum. That is so embarrassing. I should have known that wasn't a vagina. I mean, for God's sake I've got one of those--I see it everyday! Shit, those are balls. I see balls everyday too! I mean, not that I'm like a hooker or something and it's my job to see balls...not that only hookers see balls everyday. Heck, you probably see balls everyday too. What are you doing with that needle?
It's just that I should really know basic anatomy. Even on cats.
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Balls are gross.
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