My Balls Are Cooked

I helped Eric set up some antennas (sp?) in Fullerton the other day on top of a Radison hotel. On the roof are some signs which read something close to the following: "Employees: Stronger than normal radio waves are present. Please avoid any prolonged exposure." Yikes! There are also carcasses of many pigeons who presumably met their untimely demise because of said exposure. Anyway, ever since that day, my balls hurt. It could be a hernia, I guess, but it's probably cancer. What a shitty way to go.