I'm not Chef

The first sentence of this post had so much promise. The doc should have wrote you a script for 2 adult male testicles.

 

They were glorious.

 

This, this was pretty good.

 

Last year of slo-pitch softball, this happened on my hand. I was catching, reached out too far for a pitch and had my catching hand slammed into left-center for a single.

The only thing I did with the black thumbnail was take a nail clipper and cut down to the point where the blood underneath could drain out. Which is kinda gross in itself, but definitely not Chef-worthy. It was fascinating to watch.

It died off and eventually grew back fine. And it was a great story until it fixed itself.

 

Or as I call it, Adult T-Ball.
And yes, that would have been a great story.

 

A home run is a home run, even in Adult T-Ball. And chicks dig the long ball.