Take it to the Bank.

Ever have a recurring stress dream? The one where you're at work with only one shoe and you forgot the big presentation for Mr. Sakamoto? Perhaps you've got a big event coming up that you feel ill prepared for or perhaps a few too many viewings of Gung Ho are to blame? Either way, we all get them in some form or another - Mr. Sakamoto notwithstanding.

Last week I was troubled by one. Four solid sleepless nights leading up to Friday (the presentation) and then again over the weekend until Monday (the encore performance). I know what you're saying - Jules, you're a rock, what could possibly get to you? You've got cancer, what else do you have to worry about? How can I get tickets to your gun show?

The answer is a humbling one. I had an appointment at a Sperm Bank.

Yes, an extra curricular activity that I've engaged in hundreds of... make that thousands of... okay, make that hundreds of thousands of times was stressing me out. Much like Lucille Ball at the candy factory all I could envision was a conveyor belt of empty cups passing by and a frantic effort to, um, fill them.

The day finally arrived and let me tell you, it was not half as sexy as any Poorly Crafted Adult Film Plotlines have ever made it out to be. There were no slutty candy stripers or hot female doctors or even naughty secretaries. There was a Slightly Bitchy Tech in ultra baggy scrubs (thanks for the non-visual, you tease) that seemed intent on describing to me how this all worked. Lady, I still vividly remember watching the J. Geils Centerfold video at seven years old. How much instruction do you think I need?

Anyway, the door was closed and I was alone. Closer inspection of the magazine rack, that the Slightly Bitchy Tech had waved at a'la Vanna White, revealed a years supply of Playboys. Now I like to look at beautiful naked women as much as the next guy but with the pressure on I would have liked a little, you know, degradation.

She had also pointed out the TV in the room and said if I turned it on a video should be underway. I flicked it on and was visually assaulted almost as badly as the girl on the screen that seemed to be fighting off a five man full court press all on her lonesome. I had found were they kept the degradation. Not wanting to see quite so many hairy backsides in 720pHD, I flipped off the set and realized I was On My Own.

I have always considered myself a crunch-time player and that day was no exception. Three minutes later I was proudly presenting my hard work to Slightly Bitchy Tech with a smile and a wink that she did not seem to appreciate.

So how did I do it? Saving all the gritty details I envisioned my beautiful and sexy girlfriend and eventual mother of my children -- with another chick.

Love you, Darlin.