Egg Donors Wanted
So, I was taking a break from studying for my POL 301 exam. Sub Saharan African Politics. I’m concentrating on Zimbabwe. Ex-Rhodesia and the lesser know politically sanctioned apartheid there in the 1950s. Anyway. I’m taking a break. Pretty heavy stuff and for some reason, the lights at Robarts always make me sleepy. Dozy. So I grab a coffee. Just milk please. And a small bag of nacho cheese Doritos. My favourite. I’ve always had a penchant for nacho cheese. I used to work at Cineplex Odeon in the Galleria Mall in London, Ontario, where I hail from, and at the end of the night my favourite treat was to dip one of those juicy, fat hot dogs, you know the ones that cook on the rotating grill at night? Dip one of those in the creamy, bright, orange, zesty, nacho cheese.
Oh God. Heaven. But I digress. Robarts. Coffee. Doritos. As I munch and sip, I peruse the large bulletin board right outside the cafeteria and in amidst the ads for tutors and discounted textbooks is a sheet of paper with a pixilated cartoon of a baby and a stork:
EGG DONOR WANTED-20-30yrs old-Caucasian-University Educated-Bilingual
It had those tabs on the bottom, little tear away bits with the contact email hand written in flowery cursive.
Egg Donor. I think I can do that. I’m fairly level headed, not prone to paralyzing neuroses over past decisions. Besides, helping people make a family isn’t such a bad thing to do. And with that, I munched the last of the Doritos, wiped my hands on my jeans and tore off the tab.