Just A Number

Tuesday was yet another birthday.  I don't celebrate.  Instead I celebrate the anniversary of being circumcised.  We usually party.  Lots of people.  Drinks.  And bake corndogs.  On the exact moment I was circumcised every is given a sharp knife and instructed to circumcise the corndog.  Then I countdown:  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, ONE, and then yell, slice that baby! 

That baby being me.  As I did way back then I start crying and screaming (albeit simulated well after the fact).

There just seems to be more relevance in celebrating (or would that be mourning?) being maimed than being born.  Barbaric. 

Doing a birthday is no big thing.  Everyone has one.  But how many celebrate being circumcised?  Now that's special.

This year I decided to change up.  No circumcision party.   Take a trip.  Have some fun.  Not circumsize corndogs.  Reno is close.  Cheap.  Gambling.  Food.  Drinks.  Why not.  So Wifey and I put the dogs out to a sitter, pack up and leave Cowtown.

We get there.  Check into Harrah's.   Walk the downtown of Reno.  It's like skid row now.  The Indian casinos have taken a toll on Reno.  Lots of what used to be bustling casinos are now shuttered.  Panhandling.  Drug deals going down.  Mentally disordered people shuffling from street to street.  Homeless.  Sad state of affairs. Not going to take a walk down Virginia Street after dark, that's for sure.

During our walk that has Wifey holding firmly onto her purse and me clutching onto my fanny wallet, she asks what I want for this year's Happy Circumcision celebration. 

Me:  You pierced and tattooed.

Her:  Bob, you love rejection so I just have to tell you, NOT IN YOUR DREAMS!

But she did pose for a photo by the sign you see here which to me means that she secretly wants a piercing on a private part and an I Love Bob tat on her left buttocks.

Sigh:  Ain't love grand?

After taking the picture Wifey says:  "Let's go up to our room and go to bed."  We do that and Wifey promptly opens a book and starts reading.

Me:  I just love foreplay.

Wifey:  Just think about it while I finish this book.

Sigh:  Ain't love grand?
 

I'm a year older.  You'll know my age by the 39 rings around the circumcision scar.  Not that you want to go counting them or anything.......  For the ladies out there, you probably don't know that for every year past the act of circumcision a ring is added around the penis.  

And if you don't believe this, just ask about rings around the penis (used to be ring around the posey) at the next dinner party you're at.  Could stimulate some interesting conversation. 

Ya think?