Conversation with My Ovaries
My ovaries talk to me sometimes. They became particularly vocal after I turned 30. They are single-minded of purpose. They want cock.
Ovaries: Uh-oh, we're getting a little low in here. Better crank the libido up a few notches, get some good spermatazoa up in this bitch.
Me: God, I can't sleep.
Ovaries: Get up! You want cock now.
Me: (Yawns) It's the middle of the night. I want sleep.
Ovaries: Go get some cock first, okay?
Me: What? No.
Ovaries: Aw, come on.
Me: Where am I going to find any at this hour? Baldodad's asleep. Should I wake him up?
Ovaries: Not so much.
Me: But he's right over there!
Ovaries: Naw, you already bred with him, remember?
Me: Yeah, I remember that. We have offspring and a vasectomy.
Ovaries: Go get somebody with better eyesight, okay? And fewer allergies.
Me: We discussed this, okay? You know I'm O.P.P.
Ovaries: Yeah, you know me! (giggles)
Me: I'm not stepping out, okay? We've been over this.
Ovaries: Look, I'm just doing my job here. It's almost time to ovulate. Here, let me get a Morphine song stuck in your head for a while. You like "Thursday"?
Me: Oh, don't do that.
Ovaries: Go get me some. I think you know where to look.
Me: Bad idea. We've ruled that out, remember?
Ovaries: I'm ovaries. I don't rule anything out.
Later at Zinger Hardware on Anderson Lane...
Ovaries: We're not going to find trash cans back here.
Me: I know. Just those plastic ones. I want a maggot-proof brushed steel motherfucker.
Ovaries: Yeah, no more maggots. Hey, ask that guy!
Me: I really just like to browse in here.
Ovaries: Hello, sailor!
Me: (to guy) Are those up front all the indoor trash cans y'all have?
The Guy: Yes. I'm afraid we don't have a very big selection.
Ovaries: Honest. I like that.
Me: (to ovaries) Not this again, okay?
Ovaries: (to guy) Say, how tall are you?
The Guy: You might try an outdoor can in the kitchen. We have a bunch in the back. I'll show you.
Ovaries: (to guy) Where'd you get that ass from? You get it from your mama?
The Guy: Here are our smallest ones.
Ovaries: (to guy) Nothing small about you. Can I see your hardware?
Me: (to ovaries) Please be quiet.
The Guy: I beg your pardon?
Ovaries: Wow, he looks like Jake Gyllenhaal. You think he's Sensitive and Tortured Jake or Doofy Jake?
Me: Yeah, I think I'm going to hold out for one with the flippy lid. Thanks.
Ovaries: I'm flipping my lid. I bet he's handy and can, you know, install stuff.
Me: We're going home, girls.