Word: spits
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Dates: during 2010-2019
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...womb all blond, blue-eyed and generally un-Jewy. In an earlier century, I would have had no choice but to trick my wife Cassandra into a best-of-three contest using a method that depends on my genetically inherited lack of rhythm. But with just a vial of spit each from Cassandra, myself and Laszlo, I could find out with DNA-lab-tested certainty which of us had influenced our child more. And for those of you worried about our putting him through this, know that the one thing babies look kindly upon donating is their drool. Especially when...
...person, 23andMe, a genetic-testing service, takes your spit and, from my understanding of the science, puts it into some kind of machine. That machine tells you your genetic makeup and lets you view your results online...
Cassandra's results came back first, because of the fact that, genetically, she's more likely to remember to mail stuff. We were both shocked at the amount of information contained in her spit, which heretofore had revealed only how recently she brushed. Her spit knew stuff about her she didn't know, like how sensitive she is to pain (average) and whether her IQ would have been higher if her mom hadn't given her formula...
Feeling guilty, I asked Cassandra if she would have never married me if, on our first date, she had collected my spit in a more scientific manner than she did. But Cassandra said she likes that I have different genes, arguing that when, for instance, Jews procreate with other Jews, they increase their kids' risk for breast cancer and Tay-Sachs. "I always wanted to procreate with someone outside my gene pool because I think you get a more beautiful and genetically superior baby," she said. "I was hoping for a black guy, but I got a Jew." Right then...
Above the doorway to the dining room, the instructions “Don’t spit in the soup—we’ve all got to eat” are painted in an elaborate cursive script...