I haven’t posted a Crazy Conversations in a long time so here is a short video to make up for it.
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them.
Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. I
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty and the photos are meant to confuse the innocent.
Lenny: I called you at least a dozen times Saturday! Why didn’t you answer?
Me: Did you leave a message?
Lenny: Hell no, I did not leave a message. Why don’t you answer your phone?
Me: Well because sometimes I am busy.
Lenny: You are not so busy that you can’t pick up the phone at some point. I mean – for Pete’s sake I called you twelve to fifteen times – all day long and you ignored me.
Me: Hmm. I usually do answer if I recognize the name or the number and (of course) if I am free to talk.
Lenny: Oh, so you were busy. Are you working on a new story?
Me: Nah.
Lenny: Then what are you so “busy” doing?
Me: I have a couple minor things in the works but mostly … Hmm… let me think … I guess most of my time is spent playing with the kittens – oh and watching the birds. Maddie, my female cat – mother to the kittens – killed a Bluebird and ate it. Lordy, lord! I know it is only natural but I have to admit it troubled me seeing it. That poor little bird flapping his beautiful blue wings so fiercely at first… then flap, flap … flap. He went limp and it was over. I almost cried. I prefer not to see it, ya know?! Did I tell you one of my tomcats, Jimmy, sweet little Jimmy Jam killed a Cardinal? Oh man, that was unsettling. I don’t know if I can ever see him as being sweet again. I don’t mind them killing mice but–
Lenny: So you are so busy with these kittens who [by the way] you know will grow up to kill the birds because that is what cats do – you are saying this full time obsession prevents you from answering your phone?
Me: No, that is not what I said. Didn’t you hear the part where I said if I recognize the number? I’m looking through my phone and apparently you are not even listed in my contacts; if you were stored in my contacts my phone would specifically say “Incoming call from Lenny” and then I would (probably) answer.
Lenny: Probably?!
Me: Yes PROBABLY. Although I’m not sure now.
Lenny: Why? What do you mean?
Me: I’m not sure I want to talk to anyone who is so callous toward cats and birds.
Lenny: I am not callous – I’m just saying —
Me: Oh, shut up hater of God’s creations. Back to your query, I’m still looking… Why aren’t you in my contacts? I don’t have your number. Hmm… no voice mail … no messages…
Lenny: Oh my gosh! You are screening your calls, aren’t you? Why are you screening your calls?
Me: That’s my business and you haven’t answered my question. I save important numbers. Why don’t I have your phone number stored?
Lenny: Because I use a Call Private service.
Me: What is that?
Lenny: My phone is set to restrict my ID so it shows up as anonymous or private number.
Me: Why the hell would you do that?
Lenny: Because I’m not comfortable with everybody knowing my phone number – I like my privacy.
Me: Oh, I see. In other words you’re paranoid or up to no good. That is a sneaky tactic, you know I do not like sneaky!
Lenny: So you will answer the next time I call?
Me: Not if I don’t recognize the name or number; definitely not if it is anonymous or private.
Lenny: Why?
Me: Because I like to know who I am going to be talking to Mr. Sneaky Snake; who I am freely giving my time to. Maybe you should drink root-beer.
Lenny: Well, don’t you at least want to know why I called?
Me: Oh dear Lenny, [mean spirited bubble buster] in honor of your anonymity and with all due respect for your privacy [despiser of soft furry things] the answer is no. Now if you don’t mind I have a thousand kitty videos to catch up on so here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.
I do not love shopping but my awesome daughter is taking me [us] on a cruise this fall so… I shopped. I do love bargains so the experience was almost enjoyable.
I don’t like trying on clothes either so I grabbed a few things off the rack and hurried home. The husband thought it would be wise to make sure the clothes fit before we set sail. He’s practical like that.
Yay! It fits well enough and isn’t this a cute little hat? 
Double yay! Another excellent guess on size err-um.
By the third change the excitement was waning and so was my patience.
“Have you considered some makeup and accessories?” the husband smirked.
“Have you considered kissing my backside?” I replied through a stress-clenched jaw.
“How about something with a little more color? Maybe some shoes and a pedicure for those garden toes?” he laughed.
“Lord have mercy sweet baby Jesus!” I grumbled.
“What’s wrong ?”
“I look like a red waffle cone topped with peach ice-cream and you’ve got my feet at war with one another! ”
“Calm down old woman you look good to me.” (That is his favorite go-to line.)
After I changed back into my ‘don’t give a poo’ daily wear and relaxed I asked the husband if he had been shopping – if he had planned his wardrobe.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He says, “It’s a cruise — cruises are for relaxing.”
“You’re right dear.” Sigh. “Clothes are so overrated. I’ll pack a swim suit and pajamas.”
Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
Me: Something has come up and I have to go to Mexico.
Husband: What happened? Who do we know in Mexico?
Me: Our youngest daughter.
Husband: She is not in Mexico.
Me: But she will be.
Husband: Why is she going to Mexico?
Me: She has a week off and she needs to stamp her passport.
Husband: Well that makes all kinds of sense. Why didn’t you just say you are going on another vacation?
Me: I didn’t want to sound too frivolous.
Husband: You just got back from vacation, how’s that for frivolous.
Me: That was a road trip, it didn’t require a passport.
Husband: My lord old woman! How much is this going to set me back?
Me: A grand or two. Depends on whether you want a souvenir or not.
Husband: How much is a souvenir?
Me: I don’t know. That’s another reason I have got to get there – to find out.
Husband: Hmm. What part of Mexico are we talking about?
Me: Puerto Vallarta.
Husband: Why not Cozumel or Cabo?
Me: They are too Americanized.
Husband: And Puerto Vallarta isn’t?
Me: Not as much, I hear. If you insist, I could go to Cabo and Cozumel but I would need more time and money.
Husband: If you’re going to stay on the Pacific, I like Huatulco. I bet it has changed a lot since we took the kids – that was what, twenty years ago?
Me: Twenty-one I believe.
Husband: The Cancun beaches were nice… wasn’t there a hotel at Chitchen Itza? She hasn’t seen the Mayan ruins there, has she? I wonder how far they’ve come with the reconstruction.
Me: Goodness man! If you want me to go to Cancun, Chitchen Itza, Huatulco, Cabo, Cozumel and Puerto Vallarta I will be gone for a month or more – Her vacation is only one week. I would have to go alone and I would miss you terribly, wouldn’t you miss me?
Husband: Of course I would. Yeah, you should come on home when baby girl’s vacation is over. I guess you’ll need a manicure, a pedicure, new clothes and a hair coloring?
Me: Nope. I’m going au’ naturel and wearing my every-day clothes.
Hus
band: You’re not going to cover up all that gray hair? What about those garden toes—you know the last pedicure you got they made fun of your beat up old feet.
Me: Oh, shut up and mix your drink.
Husband: Ahh, that was funny, “you have a garden, yes?” I can’t believe you plopped those mud stained number nines in front of that poor fella. With all of your calluses and cracks — no wonder it took him an hour. You couldn’t pay me to do his job. Who are you calling? Are you calling the beauty shop?
Me: No, I am calling my travel agent.
Husband: Oh, come on. I was just picking at you. Are you going to cancel your trip?
Me: Au contraire monsieur, I am going to extend my itinerary to include all of the places you suggested.
Husband: Salt water and sand do work miracles. You better keep those feet in the water as much as you can. 
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them.
Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
Sister: Why did you tell the nurse your baby sister would be driving you home?
Me: Because she asked me. If I can’t drive, you are supposed to. I thought you knew that.
Sister: I know that dummy – I mean the baby sister part. I am fifty years old.
Me: I don’t care how old you are, you will always be the baby. It’s not like she thought you were a toddler.
Sister: Just don’t start thinking you can boss me. You’re not the boss of me.
Me: Lord, ain’t that the truth. If I could make you do anything, you would be having a few of these tests right along with me.
Sister: Don’t lecture me either. I know my body and I know how to take care of it. I may not take good care of it but I know that too.
Me: I won’t lecture you. Harping on people never helps — especially rebellious people. You do take an aspirin every day, right?
Sister: Yes. Some days I take three or four — or five. Usually four. They’re just baby aspirins.
Me: Why do you take four baby aspirin?
Sister: Because sometimes one is not enough.
Me: But the doctor told you to take one a day — just to thin your blood, right?
Sister: Right! But when you cut yourself and the blood clots a soon as it comes to the surface – it’s too thick. Blood is supposed to drip, that’s just common sense. People should pay attention to that and know their body. I’m not going to pay a doctor $200 to tell me my blood is too thick.
Me: Why not just take one adult aspirin – the milligrams would be the same.
Sister: No, it would not be the same Miss Nursey-Nurse. Four baby aspirins equal 324 milligrams, one adult aspirin is 325.
Me: So you’re worried that you might overdose?
Sister: No. I just like the taste of the baby aspirin.
Me: You are one stubborn woman.
Sister: You know I will cut my nose off to spite my face, so will you.
Me: Speaking of noses, look at that lady across from you.
Sister: Oh my gosh! Did you see that dry flaky thing she just sent flying?
Me: Yeah! What was that?
Sister: It looked like a UFO.
Me: Shhh!
Sister: See what I mean, I bet that woman doesn’t know her own body. She’s probably here to have a dozen tests done when the problem is she’s just dehydrated. It’ll cost her $1500 to find out she needs to drink more water.
Me: So you’re diagnosing now? You don’t know her.
Sister: No, but I know boogers. You saw that rice cake she flung across the room! Boogers are wet, or they should be.
Me: It’s hard to argue with logic.
Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
Husband: What are you doing?
Me: Looking for old pictures to post online.
Husband: What’s the matter – you ran out of new ones?
Me: No, it’s Throw Back Thursday.
Husband: So that’s what TBT is. Have you seen my wallet?
Me: Look at this one. Do you remember the anniversary we spent in Las Vegas? We weren’t very lucky were we?
Husband: I don’t know about you but I got lucky quite a few times. The more you drank the luckier I got.
Me: But we didn’t win any money.
Husband: Isn’t that you standing beside a winning machine? Where did I put that billfold?!
Me: I plainly recall losing money. Maybe I just posed for the picture because you know I have never been lucky.
Husband: Well at least you’ve got lucky legs.
Me: I’m grateful that I can walk but… did you say lucky legs?
Husband: Yeah, you’re lucky they don’t break off and stab you in the butt.
Me: You should brace your abdomen when you laugh that hard so you don’t bust a gut.
Husband: Whew. You know I love you skinny legs and all.
Me: I know sweetie. By the way here’s your wallet.
Husband: Damn all of my cash is gone!
Me: Well then you’ve got yourself one lucky wallet there.
Husband: How do you figure that?
Me: You’re lucky I didn’t take your credit card too.
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty
(Ring, ring)
Me: Hello.
Bea: Did you get anything nice for Christmas?
Me: I’m fine thank you. How are you?
Bea: I didn’t ask how you were doing. Did you have a good Christmas?
Me: Yes I did. Did you?
Bea: I got the same old junk I get every year. Why do people ask you what you want if they are not going to give it to you?
Me: Did everyone make it home this year?
Bea: I have house shoes stacked waist high in my closet and enough gels and lotions to open my own Bath & Body Works.
Me: Hey that’s an idea. Maybe you could open a little shop and call it Foot & Body or Bea’s Bath & Slippers.
Bea: Don’t be absurd!
Me: It was just a thought.
Bea: Well it was a tacky little thought and besides they make perfectly good gifts for friends and in-laws.
Me: By the way thank you for the foaming cranberry soap. I love the smell and-
Bea: How is your dog? Did you get the dog anything for Christmas?
Me: Which dog? I have three.
Bea: The Chihuahua! I am not concerned about the ones that live outside.
Me: The dogs are all fine and they each got a bone for Christmas. The kids are fine too.
Merry Christmas you poor dumb dingo.
Bea: A bone?! That’s not a decent gift.
Me: They were happy with it.
Bea: Who – the children or the dogs?
Me: Both.
Bea: Well the dogs don’t know any better. You should get a cat. My Kitty would never settle for a lousy bone. Isn’t that right Kitty Kitty? Yes it is. You’re mommy’s wittle princess; her itty-bitty baby. Mommy wuvs her sweet Kitty Kitty yes she does.
Me: Did you ever consider naming her something other than Kitty Kitty?
Bea: That would be ridiculous. Her name has been Kitty Kitty for six years. Her won’t answer to anything else will you baby? No her won’t. She wuvs her name and she wuvs her mommy. She’s not like mommy’s other babies – no she’s not. She’s a good girl. Aren’t you a good girl?
Me: Should I let you go so you can talk to the cat?
Bea: Why don’t you get a cat? They are a lot smarter than dogs and they don’t stink.
Me: You know I am allergic to ninety percent of the domestic feline population.
Bea: Well you need a cat. Real writers have cats. Surely you could find one in the ten percent of the populace you are not allergic to. Have you ever tried?
Me: The other ten percent smell worse than dogs.
Bea: Malarkey! Cats do not stink.
Me: Dead cats do.
Bea: That was a cruel thing to say. She was just being facetious Kitty Kitty. She’s jealous, that what she is. Dog people are mean aren’t they? Yes they are. They are meannie weenies but mommy will protect her pretty Kitty oh yes she will. Do you want mommy to make her apologize? You do? Okay I’ll tell her –
Me: Put the cat on the phone.
Bea: Here she is.
Me: Kitty Kitty are you there?
Bea: She can hear you, go ahead.
Me: Did you ever watch a sitcom called Friends?
Bea: She has watched every single rerun at least once.
Me: Kitty Kitty do you know the song Phoebe sang?
Bea: ‘Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat what are they feeding you?’ We laugh at that every time we hear it.
Me: Well Kitty that song was written about your mother.
Bea: Don’t tell her that! Now you really need to apologize.
Me: Forgive me Smelly Jr. – I mean Kitty Kitty. I’m sorry you’re a cat – it’s not your fault.
Bea: Ignore her baby; she’s just a nasty ole dog hugger. So did you get a lot for Christmas?
Me: Are you talking to me?
Bea: Of course I am talking to you! Who else would I be talking to?
Me: I got everything I wanted.
Bea: That’s good. Listen dear, I’m already working on next year’s list and I have you down as a size 8/9 in house slippers. Do you have a color preference? I’m thinking red, blue or leopard print.
Me: The red or blue either one would be nice.
Bea: Hmm. I thought you would prefer the leopard print?
Me: I would but isn’t that what I gave you last Christmas?
Bea: Hello? Hello? The reception here is terrible. I haven’t heard a word you’ve said since your apology to Kitty. I’m sorry sweetie I’m going to hang up now – call me back in a day or two. Oh and Merry Christmas.
Me: Merry Christmas Bea.
(Click)
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.
Sister: Hey, I just called to thank you for the book.
Me: Oh you’re quite welcome. So do you have an opinion on the genre?
Sister: Well I have to tell you it started off a little staggery. You know what I mean?
Me: As in slow and unsteady, I agree. So what genre did you decide?
Sister: Clara seemed sort of dull at the beginning. I wasn’t sure what to make of her, you know? She’s rather meek and reserved.
Me: True. But what category-
Sister: Thank goodness she shines further into the story. You need to show that in the first few pages. You might omit chapter one all together or incorporate one and two. I see what you were doing there and I’m all about character development but step it up a little.
Me: The book is already out. My current problem is the specific genre. What do you-
Sister: Well no need crying over spilled milk, right? Maggie is likable. I like Maggie, she’s spunky. No wonder Linda has issues. With a name like Mucalinda and a mother who runs a voodoo shop in New Orleans. Geez!
Me: Thanks. Other than fiction would you consider it –
Sister: I hated that Lafont character! Hate is a strong word I know but I absolutely hate him. He didn’t suffer near enough in my opinion but Levi isn’t the type to torture people. He just done what needed to be done. Taking care of business, I loved that about him. So is he really a-
Me: Speaking of business I need your opinion on the genre. Remember I asked for-
Sister: Oh it’s definitely romance. It almost verges on soft porn at times if you ask me. Your brother in law couldn’t believe you wrote that. He had a time with it. Were your ears burning?
Me: You let him read it?!
Sister: Sure. He agrees with me – it’s romance.
Me: No, I don’t think so.
Sister: Yes it is! I am a seasoned noveller, you asked for my opinion now don’t argue. With the relationships and intimacy throughout you have to know it’s a romance.
Me: I really didn’t think it was. I categorized it under paranormal fiction.
Sister: Maybe as a subcategory. Now back to Levi, is he or is he not a-
Me: I’m not sure I should classify it as romance. One reader said-
Sister: I don’t give a damn what one reader said or one hundred for that matter. Do you know how many books I read a week? Sure you do that’s why you asked for my opinion. It’s a freaking romance.
Me: Okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad. So you want to know more about Levi but what about Vivian?
Sister: Vivian Cature? That wench has no redeeming qualities. I despise her.
Me: But she came from a troubled background. Aren’t you the least bit empathetic?
Sister: So what. That is an excuse! Everyone has junk in their past. No, she was looking out for number one and the way she treated her own daughter- not just the way she treated her friend but her own daughter! I don’t forgive her and I have no sympathy for her. Nope, I cannot abide such. She is a sociopath. She and that worthless man-whore deserved one another.
Me: You know they aren’t real people, right?
Sister: Well of course I know that but girl I cried twice. Oh, when Mr. O’Bromley was in the emergency room I had to get a tissue and blow my nose that just tore me up. — What are you laughing about?
Me: Nothing.
Sister: You wanted my opinion. You should be flattered that I liked it.
Me: I am. I totally am. But I really just needed help with the genre thing.
Sister: It is a blasted romance. Let’s not go over that again. Now tell me will Levi be showing up in the next book?
Me: I don’t think so.
Sister: He could. There is ample leeway for another story, maybe bring him in to the lead, I would like to see that and why on earth did you kill off-
Me: You’re positive on the genre?
Sister: Damn it girl do I have to spell it for you? Would you rather ask mother?
Me: No! Romance it is. Thank you.
Sister: Anytime. Can you at least try to expound on the Duffy character. What exactly is he? And I don’t see why you couldn’t do more with Levi.
Me: I’ll work on it.
Sister: Do that and by the way you’re not getting the book back,
Me: That’s fine, consider it a gift.
Sister: I did.
Pippin: I got my lab reports in from the doctor. There’s an H beside half of them, what does that mean?
Kit: High. H means high, L means low.
Pippin: I know that! What do these numbers say about my health?
Kit: Ask your doctor. I forgot to lay anything out- what do you want to eat?
Pippin: I don’t know. Answer the door.
Kit: You answer the door, I’m busy.
Pippin: Come on in man. Did you hear the bad news? I just got handed a death sentence… Moe, I’m dying.
Kit: Do you want chicken or pork chops for dinner?
Pippin: I’m dying and she wants to know if I want pork chops for dinner. Do you see what I’m dealing with Moe?
Kit: We have left over pork chops. They smell a little funny but I think they’ll be okay if I rinse the sticky stuff off.
Pippin: It ain’t bad enough the pork is killing me slowly; she has to add ptomaine to the mix. Have you ever had ptomaine poisoning Moe? It’s bad, real bad. You’ll have to watch that when I’m gone, don’t eat anything around here or you’ll be a goner just like me.
Kit: Okay would you rather have the chicken? It’s still frozen but I could microwave it for a minute or two then fry it.
Pippin: Did you hear that Moe? My only alternative is a radioactive chicken. Not only will it be full of cancer causing radiation but she’s going to boil it in oil so she can finish me off.
Kit: I’m not boiling it in oil, I’m frying it.
Pippin: What’s the difference? My arteries don’t know the difference. My cholesterol is 5000 and you want to argue?
Kit: Oh, you’re talking to me now?
Pippin: See Moe, she’s hoping I’ll get mad and have a heart attack right here in front of her. You’ll have to call 911 – she won’t do it.
Kit: Stop telling him that! You are not dying.
Pippin: I’ve got high blood pressure-”
Kit: And your cholesterol is not 5000, there’s no such thing. No one has ever had cholesterol that high.
Pippin: Don’t listen to her Moe. Look at this here report. I’ve got high pressure, high sugar, high triglycerides…
Kit: You’ve got high hopes too if you think that dog gives a hoot about all of your ailments. Moe, you want a pork chop?
Pippin: Now she’s just trying to hurt my feelings. You love me don’t you Moe? Come back here. Moe heel! Moe… Moe? Dammit Moe you know I’m dying.
Cousin Bill: We need to get together more. Somebody ought to plan a family reunion before all of us are gone.
Sue: Yes, someone should take charge and do that, not that you would go – you haven’t gone to any of the other ones.
Cousin Bill: I didn’t know there were any other ones.
Sue: You say the same thing every time.
Betty: Don’t get on his ass. You ain’t been to many of `em yourself missy!
Sue: I wasn’t getting on his ass. If I was getting on his ass he would know it, trust me.
Cousin Bill: It kinda felt like you were gettin’ on my ass. Matter of fact I think you left a mark.
Sue: Poor baby, you want Betty to kiss it and make it all better.
Betty: I’m not kissin’ his hairy old butt.
Cousin Bill: It ain’t hairy. It’s smooth as a baby’s bottom. You wanna see?
Betty: No thank you.
Sue: I do.
Betty: You’re sick in the head girl if you want to look at his rear-end.
Sue: You looked at it so I guess you’re sick in the head too.
Betty: My lookin’ was an accident. I turned my head as soon as I could but I gotta tell you I still have nightmares about it.
Cousin Bill: Would somebody just plan the damn reunion already!
Sue: Betty you’re the oldest why don’t you start a list of paternal relatives and we’ll go from there.
Betty: What is paternal?
Sue: From the father’s side.
Betty: Oh that’s easy. Let’s see… there is Aunt Lou and Uncle Delbert-
Sue: They are from mother’s side of the family and they passed away twelve years ago.
Betty: So you want just the live ones?
Sue: I think the dead ones might have a problem making it to a family reunion.
Cousin Bill: I imagine they’re having their own reunion in heaven. God rest their souls. Sue would you get me another beer?
Betty: I’ve seen dead people at reunions.
Sue: Just make the list Betty we don’t have time for your ghost stories.
Cousin Bill: Lord knows her stories do go on. We’ll all be at that heavenly reunion by the time she finishes.
Betty: Why does it have to be just Daddy’s side? That’s plum rude.
Sue: Let’s work on one thing at a time. We can make a maternal list later.
Betty: What’s maternal? Never mind, I know the answer.
Sue: Good.
Betty: But I don’t think there will be many people show up at a reunion for pregnant women.
Sue: Dadgum you’re sharp as a tack. So how many have you got on the list so far?
Betty: Ummm. What ever happened to Jim and all of those girls? And Jerry and his wife – none of them had any boys did they?
Cousin Bill: Nope. No males to carry on the family name. I reckon we’ll disappear from the annals of history.
Betty: Annals. Is that the same as anus?
Sue: That’s right Betty, it is. That is called a synonym. Don’t worry Bill I’m sure the county has an accurate record of you.
Betty: Well that makes sense now. Curtis is a history butt and he is always talking about annals.
Sue: So you’ve got Jim and Jerry’s clans. Who else?
Betty: You know they had three sisters and a couple of brothers that was stout enough to produce some male offspring. They each had at least five kids and most of `em was boys.
Cousin Bill: What does stout have to do with it?
Betty: A man’s seed has got to be strong to make a boy. Can’t have no little pecker either. Boy seeds are puny little swimmers; they have to be planted deep. Yep, you gotta park `em right on top of the ovary or they’ll never make it.
Cousin Bill: I think I’ll go get me a beer.
Betty: Did you know there are millions and millions of sperm released every time a man relieves his self.
Sue: When he urinates?
Betty: No dummy. Piss don’t have sperm in it. When he umm… you know… has an orgasm.
Sue: Why are you whispering? Orgasm is not a dirty word.
Betty: Well it sounds vulgar to me. It sounds like oral – makes me think of oral… you know. Come to think of it, that might be the reason Jerry and his wife never had any boys. And Jim too. Girl they was puttin’ it in the wrong hole!
Sue: Oh dear lord baby Jesus. You don’t really believe that do you?
Betty: Do you have a better theory?
Sue: No. No Betty I don’t. Let’s forget about the millions and millions of misplaced scrawny sperm for now. How many do you have on the list?
Betty: Two.
The Real Janna Hill 