When were you conceivied?

These, I believe anyway, are the things you ascertain only when your old man passes.

I was a love child, never meant to be, love child, born in poverty ... ya ya ya ...

 

Early March bday, so apparently sometime around early June 1975.

 

I was born on day one of the 1978 'Boston Massacre' when the Yankees beat the Sox 15-3 to start a four-game sweep and pull even in the standings. Inauspicious for a son of New England. And that would make me a Christmas/New Year's conception.

 

In McMahon Hall at the University of Washington in May 1969.

 

I was conceived in May, 1982. My parents were teachers in Canandaigua, N.Y., and had two little girls, 5 and 2, respectively. They wanted a boy during each of the first two pregnancies -- my dad wanted a Michael -- and were going to call it quits at three regardless of my gender. The Yankees were beginning a second consecutive losing season, which probably bored my dad. And March Madness was finally over after North Carolina beating Georgetown, so my mom was happy -- she hated Patrick Ewing. Nine months later, they got their wish -- and then began regretting it.

Suckers.

 

Looks like Mom had a happy birthday nine months before I was born.

 

Think about that tonight when Mikey's balls deep in you.

 

He's just a big tease, Doc.

 

I'm the tease?

I've practically been throwing myself at you.

And what do I get?

A phone call? No

Flowers? No

Dinner? No

Well, no more mister. I will not be ignored [/glennclose]

 

I was the one throwing pebbles at your window.

I was the one who put his boxers in your mailbox.

I was the one who shaved off his pubic hair and scattered it on your doorstep.

So don't tell me I'm not trying, sir. I've given all I can give, and I'm tired. I'm just tired.

 

That was you?

 

One of the times my dad and mom had sex, I imagine.