So I was recently handed paperwork to permit the IVF clinic which my ex-girlfriend and I patronized to thaw and discard our two adorable frozen embryos. They are two years old, and alas, I knew hardly them, but that's for another time.

Right now, I'm flabbergasted to find that they spelled my name wrong on all of the paperwork. I'm assuming that was the only mistake, and they really did use my goop (wow, that word really feels right to me) to make those baby popsicles - otherwise there's a whole Maury Povich situation at play here.
And I don't have a hard name to spell! Starbucks never butchers it and accidentally serves me a macchiato. I would hope that the IVF pros know whose milk goes in which latte. For better or worse, I'm assuming we'll never find out.

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In other news, anybody want some embryos, before we throw em out? I mean... I've got great genes - Jewish, with no Crohn's - and mixed race babies are always adorable. I know I'm kind of a hoarder, but this just feels wasteful.