Vasectomy Ninjas

Last night, several of my women friends —terribly stressed, all — gathered at my house for wine, food and LOTS of conversation. As often is the case with gatherings of this sort, the talk quickly turned to sex.

Not who's having it, or who's not, or how or even why. No, we discussed the single most important question among women nearing, immersed in, or just past their 4th decade: vasectomies. Specifically, whose husbands have had them and whose have not. This is our most critical issue when it comes to marital relations, because as much as we all love and treasure our children, we're DONE with that craziness.

To be fair, I know of no husband who gleefully and willingly takes that plunge. Several of the wives assembled had convinced their spouses to go under the knife by threatening to withhold sex. One threatened that she wanted many more babies. (Talk about a persuasive argument!)

But I'd guess about half of the husbands represented  have yet to take that important step. Too bad. There's nothing like the absence of extra hormones, the loss of latex and virturally no chance of pregnancy to foster wild sexual abandon. Guess some husbands miss that point.

But then, I realized there IS a way to help those reluctant men overcome their fears, or hang ups or whatever and get past the question and into the promised land. The answer: vasectomy ninjas.

Here's how it would work: Wife convinces husband to throw a party at their home. Wife helps ensure that husband imbibes copious amounts of alcohol or similar substances. Wife conspires secretly with highly trained and skilled medical doctor - the vasectomy ninja - to show up at the party and quickly perform the procedure. (After all guests have left, of course. We're not barbarians. ) Husband wakes up in the morning with a bag of frozen peas on his crotch, a mild hangover and no trauma. Problem solved.

Of course, REALLY crafty wives will say to their newly-awakened husbands, "Baby, you were incredible last night. Let me know when you're ready to do that again."

It's kind of like that urban myth where the college student goes to a party, gets bombed, and wakes up in a bathtub full of ice to find he has a kidney missing.

Could it ever really happen? Of course not. But I wonder after reading this, how many non-vasectemized husbands will shy away from throwing parties.

My Kind of Brownie Troop

Those of you who know me will no doubt come close to developing seizures from laughing when I admit that I've allowed myself to be coerced into being a co-leader of sorts for my daughter's brownie troop.

But before you completely pass out, I should say that I've only agreed to handle the money. While I'm confident in my abilities to keep a modest checking account in balance, I'm not sure I'm what Girl Scouts of America has in mind for the perfect troop leader.

See, the Girl Scouts and I have a long history. It started when I was a brownie myself. I was in a perky little troop that wore full uniform regalia to meetings and did mind-numbing activities like learning to crochet. I was a proud tomboy and always wore my shorts under my brownie dress, which my troop leader overlooked. But I also wanted to do what my older brother was doing in boy scouts — camping, canoeing, generally running amuck.

So, on the day we were supposed to be making lovely photo frames from Bell jar tops, I chose not to bring in my picture. My troop leader called me a "lazy daisy." I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of the project she'd planned, and her annoyingly condescending vocabulary.

She told my mother in no uncertain terms that I needn't bother to come back.

Times have changed a great deal, and no self-respecting eight-year-old would sit through a brownie meeting circa 1972. Instead, the Girl Scouts have developed a curriculum focused on self-esteem and positive emotional and social development. That's all good, but I'm thinking I might give the girls in my daughter's troop an even better head-start on life skills.

Martini-mixing merit badge? You bet. But of course, I'll be the only official taster.

There's also the clean-my-grown-up-kitchen merit badge, sort-the-recycling-so-my-husband-the-eco-nazi-won't complain merit badge, the what-can-we-weave-from-all-this-dog-hair-on-the-floor merit badge and (my favorite) the babysit-the-three-year-old-boy-but-don't-let-him-destroy-anything-while-I-go-shopping merit badge.

Think of everything those girls would know! Who wants to sign up for my troop?