"Of course. It's a MUST-game, Rosalie."
"I don't care," she said evenly.
"Of course you do. You just don't understand. If we beat Green Bay next Sunday, we win the Coastal Division outright, no matter what Los Angeles does."
"Well, I don't care," Rosalie said again, unmoved.
Jerry was incredulous. "You must be tired," he suggested.
"No, Jerry, I don't care. And it's time you understood that. We're in two different worlds for months of the year. You've heard of the generation gap and the racial division, but there's one thing worse than that which they never talk about—the sex split."
"Well, Baby Cakes," Jerry snapped. "What's the big deal? It used to be a battle of the sexes."
"Yeah, but to make a battle at least you must stay in contact with the enemy. In the sex split, men and women just drift farther and farther apart as the season wears on. There won't even be any babies born in Baltimore next July and August. I hear they're going to take the beds out of the maternity wards and use them for roller rinks."
"Ah come on, be serious."
"Oh, I am. In the whole history of all the species in the world, this is the first time this has ever happened, and it's upsetting the whole routine of nature. Just take this miniskirt."