We all say stuff in our lives, and later reflect upon the meaning of it.
I try not to.
These words have come out of my mouth:
- I forbid you from drawing on your brother’s face.
- I forbid you from drawing on your own face.
- That’s permanent marker!
- I don’t care if your butt hole is sticky, don’t put your finger in there.
- If you can get this done in 3 minutes, that will leave me with 5 hours and 45 minutes of sleep.
However, tonight I was rendered speechless by a conversation with my 13 year old.
He was getting ready to soak in a hot bath.
He says, “Today my balls we’re clinging to my butt.”
He waits for my reaction.
Probably this is the part where I dole out advice.
But quite frankly, I got nothing.
He continues, “So I told my friend, Luke about it.”
He waits. I still say nothing.
“So Luke said that there’s a word for that: it’s called ballage.”
My lips are sealed.
“Yeah, Luke said that the best cure is to have a hot bath so the balls unstick, then put baby powder on your balls afterwards so they don’t cling to your butt again.”
I could have said many things.
I was sure he was fucking with me.
So I went on Urban Dictionary.com and wouldn’t you know, the little perverts were right:
Ballage (pronounced BALL-IJ) is the same as cleavage but of a mans testes. Usually pertaining to a man with tight clothing so the form of the testes are visible or when the “balls” are shown.
I still have said nothing because honestly, I’m saving my one-liner for a better time.
Like when he asks me for a jar of vaseline.