The world can be a cold, lonely place, particularly if you live in Siberia during the winter months and have no friends. While I certainly don't fit into either category, I will admit that my life has been a little more hollow since Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac bit the dust. I guess that is what I get for naming my pet roosters after failed financial institutions. Hey, to my credit, it sounded like a good idea at the time. If you've been a reader of this site for any length of time that extends more than the past two days, you know that in times of severe social withdraw, there is only one man to turn to: Skip "Cuban Missile Crisis" Walker. It's been a while, so I decided to pick up the phone and dial my old friend to see what's shaking. (Hint: still Michael J. Fox.)

Randy: Hello Skip Walker, Somalia's most infamous bread maker. What's new?

Skip: A migraine that started around the same time that I picked up the phone.

Randy: Weird. Do you think that you might be allergic?

Skip: Allergic to what?

Randy: The phone.

Skip: No, just to your voice.

Randy: How can you be allergic to a sound?

Skip: How could you not have been killed off by natural selection?

Randy: When I was younger, I used to drink from the containers that were under the sink.

Skip: Which explains a lot and yet somehow still fails to answer my question.

Randy: Hey Skip, speaking of questions, I got something. What does one plus one equal?

Skip: Two?

Randy: Well, what if I said three?

Skip: Then I would say that it's good to know that the harsh winter months haven't dulled your stupidity.

Randy: Yeah, whatever it was that you just said because my answer was also two but my wife seems to think that the answer is three. I have no idea what that might mean other than she needs to study up on her arithmetic again.

Skip: I think that I see what is going on here.

Randy: OK, Captain Bifocals, please fill me in because I don't have a clue.

Skip: You really don't know what's going on? I mean, I am having a very hard time believing that it actually happened but it still should be pretty obvious, even to you.

Randy: Sure, I totally know what's going on but I would rather waste my time in a completely irrelevant conversation because deep down inside, I am secretly some kind of gay college professor who loves to talk on the phone about nothing for long periods of time.

Skip: *sigh*, OK. Let's go over this in a more detailed manner. Did she mention to you that she was late?

Randy: Yeah, she mentioned that out of the blue and shortly thereafter, I went to Target and bought her a new alarm clock, so problem solved. It's this little cartoon alligator that meows when the time comes. I mean, that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever but neither does shopping at Target.

Skip: OK, did she mention anything about missing her cycle?

Randy: Yep, she brought that up too but I told her before we got serious that it was either me or the Harley Davidson. She can't have both. One of us has a V12 engine and the other is a motorcycle. Besides, I already sold the bike to my friend, Peggi, and I don't have the money to buy it back. I'm saving up to buy some Pokemon collectibles.

Skip: Christ, you really don't get it, do you?

Randy: Get what you're talking about? No. You seem to just be asking me a bunch of pointless questions about my shopping habits and choice in vehicles.

Skip: OK, let's try this one more time. Has she mentioned that she's going to start eating for two?

Randy: Yeah, but the psychologist said that the schizophrenia should be gone by now so I dismissed her ramblings like I always do because she is a woman and they don't have anything important to say. Besides, if it's not gone, that was a waste of a whole lot of really good drugs.

Skip: You know, I see that we could dance around this topic all day and you still wouldn't grasp what we're talking about so I am just going to put this bluntly: Your wife is pregnant.

Randy: Hey, don't call her names. I mean, I don't even know what "pregnant" means but it sounds like kind of schoolyard insult. They never make any sense.

Skip: I assume it's yours?

Randy: My wife? Yeah, she's mine.

Skip: I was referring to the baby.

Randy: What baby?

Skip: The baby that you said might be coming.

Randy: I'm not sure what conversation you're listening to but I didn't say anything about a baby.

Skip: But we're talking about your wife being pregnant.

Randy: What does that have to do with anything?

Skip: Do you even know anything about biology?

Randy: I know that it rhymes with technology, kind of.

Skip: I see that the public school system has failed us yet again. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that someone would willingly have sex with you.

Randy: What sort of nonsense is this?

Skip: I'm talking about intercourse. You and your wife. Doing it.

Randy: What does that have to do with anything?

Skip: How else do you think she got pregnant?

Randy: The stork.

Skip: You moron, the stork myth isn't real. Seriously, do I even need to get into this?

Randy: Get into what?

Skip: A baby is formed when a man and woman perform copulation.

Randy: They go down to Kinko's together?

Skip: Jesus, no. When a man inserts his penis into a woman's vagina, hopefully a woman that he really cares deeply about.

Randy: Oh my god, that is so gross.

Skip: What, the penis and vagina part?

Randy: No, the part where the man cares about the woman. That kind of stuff never happens.

Skip: Says who?

Randy: I lost my virginity to a hooker.

Skip: Which surprises no one.

Randy: Yeah, she moonlighted as a contortionist.

Skip: I didn't see that twist coming.

Randy: Neither did I but I rather enjoyed it.

Skip: *sigh* You do know what all of this means, right?

Randy: Well, if what you've said is true, then yeah. I'm going to have to take the "room for rent" sign out of my wife's vagina. Do you know how hard it was to get something visible and neon up there in the first place?

Skip: Neon?

Randy: Yeah, I went all out. I honestly didn't think the place would ever get rented -- it doesn't have much of a view. Or any windows at all for that matter. Maybe I should have second-guessed myself with the economic slump and all. People are desperate.

Skip: Are we really talking about your wife like this?

Randy: Not we, you. You brought it up. I've done nothing but defend her honor this entire phone call.

Skip: I suppose some congratulations should be in order then but I still am having trouble believing it. You do realize that this changes everything, right?

Randy: Of course I realize that. I mean, I know that we can no longer have game night now.

Skip: I know that I shouldn't ask but, here goes. Why can't you still have game night?

Randy: Well, the game that we used to play involved us pushing each other down the stairs. I'm still up for it but I have a feeling that she's going to have reservations now.

Skip: Some day, I will learn to listen to my instinct and not ask follow-up questions.

Randy: That would make for a pretty short conversation.

Skip: That's something I pray for every single time you call me.

Randy: They say that miracles happen all the time.

Skip: Apparently, because I was pretty certain that you were gay.

Randy: I trust that you mean happy.

Skip: Sure. Look, I have to run.

Randy: And I have the runs!

Skip: Classy. I'll see you around the office.

Randy: OK, Skip Walker. Remember to keep it nothing less than 100% real!