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Only today I did something everyone jokes about, but never expects to actually happen - and that is to cut myself with the scissors. My hairy sack of magic wasn't too pleased, and I'm now in that elite club of people who can claim "I've seen my balls bleeding"
Not very pleasant at all. If that's any indicator on how my day's going to be, I might just skip work and go back to bed.
"Hey, does this look like a Q to you?"
"How about now?"
*crosses legs in simpathy*
> What kinda scissors?
>
> Don't you need a shaver?
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Just small ones (no jokes, please) and no I don't shave downstairs, that would be rather itchy. A good trim is all you need.
It is nice to see a man who takes care downstairs.
*Applauds*