As mentioned previously, someone got me wet and I've started sprouting off little miniature gremlin Narms. Which is a funny way to say that my wife is pregnant.
Well, funny to me. She doesn't see the humor in it. I told her it could be worse, she could have to lay a giant egg and then sit on it for nine months. She didn't see the humor in that either. Something tells me I'm doing this wrong.
In an effort to make up for these horrible jokes, I have granted my wife her wish and we will not be finding out the sex of Baby Narm.
Which begs the question - which do I want - a boy or a girl?
With a boy, he would be into super heroes and sports and we could grow beards together.
But it would be hard watching a jubilant, happy young boy slowly realize he is going to grow up to be a nonathletic, balding short guy with no real discernible skills outside of fart jokes.
If we have a girl, she would be cute and spoiled and finally give my wife someone to shop with so I don't have to sleep on the benches outside of Macy's.
But she would also do that annoying thing girls do where they make-up dance moves to songs by taking every lyric literally. Plus, I have a huge nose resting below a unibrow - and I don't think that is a good look for a teenage girl tying to fit in with the cool kids.
So, in the end, I don't really care - boy or girl, blue or pink - I'll love that kid the same either way.
I just hope for one thing...
...it has its mother's genes.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Going Bananas
I've learned a ton about fruits and vegetables lately.
First - apple seeds.
Then, peas.
After that, I was reading about blueberries.
I became more engrossed - prunes, limes, peaches, oranges, onions, mangoes. My browser history read like a really boring advertisement for Fruit of the Loom.
Each week became more interesting - reading about how they grew, how they developed, the specific ways they survived and matured.
Now I've learned that this is the week my little pomegranate grows eye lashes and can sense light.
Babies. If you didn't get it. I'm talking about babies. Specifically my baby.
Well, not MY baby. I don't own it. It is the baby in which I created. Laaaaaaadies.
And it has been damn exciting watching it grow from a pea to an apple to a pomegranate.
Although there is a tinge of fear in my wife's eyes as she reads the weekly updates.
She's afraid of the week we learn about watermelons.
First - apple seeds.
Then, peas.
After that, I was reading about blueberries.
I became more engrossed - prunes, limes, peaches, oranges, onions, mangoes. My browser history read like a really boring advertisement for Fruit of the Loom.
Each week became more interesting - reading about how they grew, how they developed, the specific ways they survived and matured.
Now I've learned that this is the week my little pomegranate grows eye lashes and can sense light.
Babies. If you didn't get it. I'm talking about babies. Specifically my baby.
Well, not MY baby. I don't own it. It is the baby in which I created. Laaaaaaadies.
And it has been damn exciting watching it grow from a pea to an apple to a pomegranate.
Although there is a tinge of fear in my wife's eyes as she reads the weekly updates.
She's afraid of the week we learn about watermelons.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
I'm Feline Tired
* This is an actual photo of my cat, Baffi, taken at 5am this morning. Blogging will resume when he has allowed me to sleep more than 3 consecutive hours. Sub-question - how long do cats normally live?
Help.
Help.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
War On Stupid Cliches
Don't be an idiot.
What President Obama said is not a 'war on religion'. For this to be a 'war on religion' he would be asking for the Church to recognize gay marriage as a sacrament.
Nope. He just wants them to be able to file a joint tax return.
If people can't tell the difference between a legal marriage and the sacrament of marriage, maybe that speaks of their own religious understanding more than that of the President. I'm married - and the religious definition means I'm finally allowed to have sex, the legal means she gets half if we get divorced. So let's not pretend our friends in the gay and lesbian community are getting the better half of this deal.
And if this is about the 'sanctity of marriage' then outlaw divorce. The only authority straight people have in discussing the 'sanctity of marriage' in the first place is because they are so fucking good at divorce. Trusting straight people on how to fix marriage is like hiring a bomb squad as your contractor.
If there is a segment people of people out there that think preventing gay marriage is going to stop all the gay sex, I'd like to invite them to every. single. college campus to show them how outlawing drugs has prevented a bunch of annoying hippies from smoking pot and listening to the Dave Matthew's Band all day. And I think we can agree Dave Matthews is a much bigger threat to society.
What President Obama said shouldn't even be news. He thinks people in a homosexual relationship should be able to receive the legal benefits of marriage - which is more or less some boring shit about taxes and insurance and medical privileges. There is no mention of the sacrament. There is no 13-minute version of Ave Maria. People aren't going to sit, then stand, then kneel, then stand, then kneel, then sit, then stand, then kneel, then do a tri-pod like a normal mass. It is just for the legal benefits and recognition.
Maybe instead of just having the separation of Church and State, it is time for them to get a divorce.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Freaks and Geeks
I feel bad for people with super weird sexual fetishes.
Because we all have our own tastes and preferences.
I'm really into brussell sprouts. Love those damn things. They're like the chicken nuggets of the vegetable world. A lot of people don't like them - but I'm not relegated to the dark corners of the internet because I fry those little bastards up once a week.
Same goes with a lot of things - modern art, foot rubs, roller coasters. We don't really control whether or not we like these things, and for the most part, we don't get called perverts for preferring to wear earth tones over jewel tones.
So why doesn’t this extend into the bedroom? Why are furbies weird, but marathon runners are normal. One gets turned on by the Easter Bunny, the other enjoys the physical hell and bloody nipples that only 26 miles of voluntary running can provide.
Hell - some peoples' weird tastes actually make them COOLER. No one has ever come home from a first date and been like, "Um, yeah...things were going really well until we went back to his place and he tried to get me to listen to Dinosaur Jr. It was disgusting. I didn't even know people DID that."
Imagine being some guy that likes to wear women's underwear listening to someone who likes anchovies complain about how weird their tastes are. “Oh man - I'd hate to be you ordering a pizza - luckily for me I just enjoy the way a frilly pink thong makes me feel like a man. In comparison, I guess the crushing loneliness I feel from living without the intimate touch of another human isn’t so bad.”
Why do we have to hate on that? As long as no one is getting hurt, I can't blame someone for something they can't control.
Besides, it's not like he's into Nickelback, or something.
That would be disgusting.
Because we all have our own tastes and preferences.
I'm really into brussell sprouts. Love those damn things. They're like the chicken nuggets of the vegetable world. A lot of people don't like them - but I'm not relegated to the dark corners of the internet because I fry those little bastards up once a week.
Same goes with a lot of things - modern art, foot rubs, roller coasters. We don't really control whether or not we like these things, and for the most part, we don't get called perverts for preferring to wear earth tones over jewel tones.
So why doesn’t this extend into the bedroom? Why are furbies weird, but marathon runners are normal. One gets turned on by the Easter Bunny, the other enjoys the physical hell and bloody nipples that only 26 miles of voluntary running can provide.
Hell - some peoples' weird tastes actually make them COOLER. No one has ever come home from a first date and been like, "Um, yeah...things were going really well until we went back to his place and he tried to get me to listen to Dinosaur Jr. It was disgusting. I didn't even know people DID that."
Imagine being some guy that likes to wear women's underwear listening to someone who likes anchovies complain about how weird their tastes are. “Oh man - I'd hate to be you ordering a pizza - luckily for me I just enjoy the way a frilly pink thong makes me feel like a man. In comparison, I guess the crushing loneliness I feel from living without the intimate touch of another human isn’t so bad.”
Why do we have to hate on that? As long as no one is getting hurt, I can't blame someone for something they can't control.
Besides, it's not like he's into Nickelback, or something.
That would be disgusting.
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