Even if I don't think I'm the best blogger there is, that doesn't mean I can just neglect my little mistake, right? I love my little VD. He's so shiny and loud and confused, just like his daddy. Speaking of him, he's somewhere between being a boy and being a... less boy-like male person. But most times, he doesn't know what to do. And he may come up with something, but he can never articulate it in the way he wishes it were. He wants to feed his baby, but he can rarely do so with something that won't make him hungry again in an hour. It's tiresome. Sometimes I think of putting him up for adoption, but that involves the law, so that's out. I am NOT abandoning him, though. Sadly, y'all know what happened the last time I did that to one of my children. Well, I didn't abandon JMC as much as I left it in another (very crazy AND very British) person's care, but I didn't think it through, and when I came back my little baby was gone. Literally, gone.Then for some reason I just had to have another one! I'M NOT GOOD WITH RESPONSIBILITY. Why can't I just remember that? I can't even make toast. I really need to settle down with a nice rich old guy I can mooch off of until he kicks the bucket and I get at least $40 million from his will. Until then, I got my son. His SS doesn't even come in every month anymore. Fuck. So what am I to do? I'm not very good-looking, and my junk's all worn out. I'm clumsy, and near-sighted, and I cry at carefully timed intervals, but they may seem spontaneous. Plus, I'd have to lug the kid around everywhere I went, and that's a chore, believe me.
They always mess themselves up.
And in their absence...
you can only mess with yourself.
Save me, Laura.
8 comments:
"Mess with yourself"... what an oddly appropriate choice of words?
Am I a bad person for enjoying these kinds of posts? There always a little uncalled-for treat like this about every two weeks.
I hear ya, on the blogging crossroads :)
God I love you, and these posts too, they show everything I love about you. You are like a younger, better looking, funnier version of Woody Allen with better taste in actresses, and the cutest baby ever. Can I be its uncle? Or something else maybe because uncles can be so creepy. Can I be a cousin? What am I JD? Ha. Now I am going to go an have an existential crisis of my own.
Well, Nick, you would be VD's uncle, just like Fataculture's my nephew, 'cuz we're brothers, right? It doesn't have to be creepy, does it? Unless it like turns you on, then go ahead. Who am I to judge?
Mark: LMFAO, not really. I get a perverse kick out of reading them after the fact, myself. And then I wonder why I don't do drugs, because I'm already so accustomed to them.
I'm gonna kind of piggy-back on what Nick says and say that I love that you let your teen-ness (?) come through on your blog. It may be frustrating for you, but it's charming to others.
Just think, when you're 30, you may own this blogosphere!
Ha, I doubt it. I'll be too busy accepting my 3rd Palme D'Or then. :P
Don’t forget that me and you will SHARE those Palme D'Ors. Just don’t forget that ;)
Oh, I won't! ;)
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