New Year’s Morning. Caleb and I are walking back to our hotel from Patisserie Claude, in the West Village. I am tired, not from too much champagne but from being awakened by the rantings of a very drunk, very angry woman in the hotel room next to ours. Apparently her boyfriend is Satan and now we and everyone else on our floor know it.
Anyway. We’re on the corner of Sixth Avenue when Caleb offers me these valuable insights on baby-making and marriage.
Caleb: I know why Uncle can’t get married. He doesn’t have any sperm.
Me, jolted out of late-night stupor: Wha?
Caleb: Daddy said, it had to do with a sperm bank and stuff.
Caleb: Daddy said that Uncle put the sperm in a sperm bank and then N’s mom got some because she couldn’t have a baby and she wanted one, and that’s how she got N.
Me: And so what does that have to do with getting married?
Caleb: Well Uncle’s sperm is all in the bank so he doesn’t have any left.
Me: And you need sperm to get married?
Caleb, patiently: Well YEAH, of course! But he doesn’t have any left, so he can’t get married.
So there you go. This whole time I’d been thinking my bro was single because finding someone interested in settling down, in Hollywood, is sort of like expecting that Russell Brand & Katy Perry were going to last–when in fact, it’s just a sperm thing. Glad we could clear that up for you.
Caleb and I are linked up to lovelinks…you should go there too and read around. Then come back on Thursday and vote for three of your favorites. Probably not as much fun as sperm donation, but hey, you can do lovelinks in your office during lunch!