Backup on the HPT Highway

Lawn Boy and I are not suffering from infertility, no, we really haven't been trying long enough to attain that label,  rather, we are fertility retarded, or if you want to be PC, challenged. The fact is, we are riding the short bus down the embryo highway. We already have one chitlin, is that enough? Maybe we should just focus all of our attention on making her the most awesomest human ever. Is it politically incorrect to hang out around the door of the abortion clinic and try to convince people to go through with their pregnancy and give the kid to me? I know, there is a fine line between charitable and psychotic. I actually really think that Lawn Boy's little swimmers are the ones that are retarded, because, as you know, I am practically perfect in every way, my half of the equation is golden. No, literally, if you put them under a microscope they are 14K. I should send those little bastards into the place that gives you cash for gold.

Try, try again.