Our second full day in Hawaii and we hit the road, driving to the opposite end of the island. To see my very first volcano. I have to confess, this was the thing I was most excited to do.
Six women in a car + juvenille tendencies = BALL TALK.
Somehow we started talking about Rocky Mountain Oysters. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with Western Cuisine, are not really oysters. They’re bull balls. In this corner of the U.S. we even have a little annual something called the Testicle Festival.
So not kidding.
Cannonball spent summers working on her family ranch. And castrating cattle. Which is how I think the whole conversation started.
“So are all the sperm actually IN the balls when they’re cooked?”
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“So you’re eating fried sperm.”
“Uhh … maybe?”
“Have you ever tried them?”
“Yeah. They were … meaty.”
“Have YOU ever eaten them?”
“No way. I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“Yeah, what if you COULD get pregnant by eating balls?”
“Wait. You can’t?”
“That would suck.”
“You’d have a cow-baby.”
And then Cher came on the radio and started singing Half Breed.
Okay, not really, but that would’ve been AWESOME.