My mother is going to hate this post.
I can’t stop saying “balls.” And I don’t mean the kind you use on a golf course or in some other sport that bores me until my eyeballs dry out. And speaking of eyeballs, I don’t mean those either.
Nope. You know the balls I’m talking about. And if you don’t you should get out more.
Don’t worry, I promise there won’t be any animated .gifs or .jpegs in this post. The balls truth (see what I mean?) is that I traumatized myself during a Google-image search for the perfect reference. (Don’t do it.)
I know exclaiming “Balls!” every time something good or bad or painful happens is totally unladylike—especially since I’m a mom now. Who wants to know their mother is running around screaming, “Balls!” every time she stubs her toe? It’s just that it’s such a versatile word:
- As an insult: You are balls stupid.
- As a compliment: Did you just say “balls” in an meeting? Wow, that took some huge, gigantic balls.
- As a term of endearment: You look balls-hot.
- As an exclamation: Balls!
- As an adjective to describe weather: “It’s hot as balls in here” or simply, “It’s balls in here.”
It’s even fun to say: ballsballsballsballsballsballsballsballs
I looked it up on Urban Dictionary. Turns out that Billy agrees with me and so does the fool who ate Sarah’s meatloaf:
I don’t have balls so quite honestly when I talk about them I’m really just talking out of my ass (how ironic).
Oh well, guess it’s better than “nutsack.” That was last year.
P.S. I asked my husband if he thought it was ok for me to write about balls. He said, “Sure, why not? People love balls. And Jesus. They love Jesus and balls.” So if you’re offended it’s his fault.