My best friend got married this past October. Now she’s constantly fielding the “when are you guys going to have a baby?!” question. And this is in Missouri. And she’s 33, so everyone there probably thinks her uterus is as useful as a dried out corn husk. And before she even got married, they probably called her a lesbian behind her back. And that was definitely just the nice people. You can imagine what the mean people called her. (Rhymes with tyke).

Anyway, a nice old lady asked her, “When are you and your husband going to have a baby?” And Lauren responded, nicely, “Oh, you know, we’re working on it!” To which the nice old lady replied, “Oooo, better hurry. You’re old.” (I’m paraphrasing. She never said, “Oooo.”) I told her the nice old lady was right.

“What?”

“Well, yeah. The sperm has to get past all those spiderwebs. They had 33 and a half years to build up in there. You have an 80s uterus. Those sperms coming into your old uterus have to learn Beta. They don’t have that technology anymore. This is new sperm, millennium sperm. Your eggs are all, “Let’s do Mad Libs!” And the sperm is all, “Uh, Call of Duty, maybe?”

“Thanks, Kate.”

“You’re welcome.”

But Missouri’s great. They still believe demons exist.