Everybody's a comedian. And now that Vicky and I are working on getting pregnant, everybody's become Jerry Seinfeld OBGYN...
Vicky had a list sent over to her this morning of ten things I should do now that she and I are... trying...
So, I figure this might be a good time to go over that list and see how I measure up... according to the list, I mean.
1. Check with my doctor.
As I started reading this, I thought it would mention things like heart disease. You know, don't want to die of a heart attack mid-attempt, right? Well... no. Actually this mostly deals with medications I might be taking that might lower my sperm count. Dying is okay. A low sperm count is not.
2. Get in touch with my medical roots.
Again, this doesn't have as much to do with my death as the as-yet-not-conceived baby's. Well, that is certainly in the offing. With my mom's somewhat mysterious genetic background (having been adopted, she's not quite sure if she's French Canadian, Jewish, or Venusian), it looks like I have some "genetic counseling" to look forward to...
3. Stock my fridge with healthy foods.
Before you think it - No. This has nothing to do with staying healthy. They just want me to stock lots of sperms producing foods, like foods with plenty of zinc and folic acid. I'm no longer so much a person as I am a sperm machine. Hear that balls? Your time has, er, arrived.
4. Just say no to partying.
No booze, tobacco, cocaine or heroine. Shit. There goes my fun. But I'm drawing a line at a couple of beers and, maybe, smokes one night a week... at least until we've been "trying" for a while, until Vicky chains me to the bed and restricts me from doing anything but "trying".
5. Check my workplace for hazards.
They're talking about, of course, sperm hazards. Guess I shouldn't play on the company's rhoshambeaux team.
6. Meet with a financial advisor.
Ah, the high cost of sperm - oh, wait! This is one that actually has nothing to do with the pasty, little fellers! But with so much doubt as to if we'll be able to pay next week's bills, let alone set up a trust fund for junior (or juniess), I think I'll be putting this one off just a bit. Anyway, I need to invest in zinc and folic acid futures.
7. Buy some boxers.
Give those little bastards some swimming room. Vicky has been pushing me in that direction - non too subtly, I might add.
8. Steer clear of the hot tub.
Don't want to boil the little fishies alive!
Shit, with all this pressure on my sperm, I'm tempted to jump into a hot tub - something I haven't done in nearly half a decade! But I am just sick of all these accusations about my sperm. It's like wearing a bicycle helmet; it takes the fun out of the damned thing!
9. Be bike savvy.
i.e. Don't pound your balls, dumbass. I don't usually bike but this makes it tempting.
You know, when someone tells you not to do something...
And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?! Do I see people sending Vicky emails telling her to focus on her eggs. Eat eggs. Fry eggs. Poach eggs. Hard boil the fuckers?! No! And, yes, I do find this rather insulting!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I just received another email. It seems that sitting in the full lotus position with lavender and chamomile sprayed on my scrotum while dunking it into a cool bowl of milk is supposed to help... something...