dr: James, you've got excellent sperm. It's red hot. I don't suppose you've heard that before.
James: Mmmm, Mary has never complimented my sperm.
Prior to this exchange, the doctor probably thought that James was mute. (edit: He was now wondering "Is this guy British? Surely, not. His teeth are too nice.")
In more recent news, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
In our house we enjoy the odd bit of black humour. The cats especially come out with some hilarious, albeit dark, things. On this occasion, Jamie took on the burden of lightening the mood.
James: An auto-immune problem would suit your personality.
It's true. I have a habit of attacking myself, all in the quest to have self-esteem low enough that I might consider applying for a spot on a reality tv show to be a worthwhile pursuit. 15 minutes of fame, interspersed with 15 minutes of ads is all I want. (Not true.)
Anyway, here I lie in hospital, suffering from a wakefulness that might be due to today's infusion of steroids. Instead of counting sheep, I will count down the average number of minutes my phone stays charged.