It's because I am a sick, sick person. And a danger to myself and others. (Well, ok. Probably just to others).
I have friend. Her name is Julie but we call her Supajewie around here.*
I love Supajewie and would probably shrivel up and die without our daily twelve hour IM conversations. But I have one little tiny issue with Supa. It is that she is married. By all appearances, she is glad of this fact. Oh, and she has a small person. (I am ok with this. Mostly).
Yesterday we were having our usual utterly pointless conversation when I decided to ask her some harmless questions** about her husband, whom I have always suspected to be an OK person. I have no proof of this, really, but he does seem to not completely suck.
Well, yes he does. He fusses with his hair. I find this very, very unattractive. As you will now see.
People, I was there when it happened. What, you ask? Oh, the day she met her husband on the internet and moved into his house three days later, married him six months later and then commenced breeding. That's right. She was pregnant six weeks after the wedding with a guy she'd known less than a year. So obviously I have been waiting for him to turn out to be a complete ass hole. Obviously!
Next we talked about how she knows what love is and I don't.
Then I gave her some parenting tips:
Then we discussed the meaning of life. Oh I mean the great circle of life. Oh I mean marriage. And stuff.
And then there was that other important safety tip I offered:
**** edited to add photograph of actual "Little Tykes" hammer Julie uses to help her child relax****
More was said yesterday, obviously. We discussed horseradish and oysters and reminisced about going out drinking and eating like savages before she married that motherchucker I mean awesome guy and had a baby. Then we reflected that the good Lord was probably right when he chose to make me repulsive and childless. Not sure you agree?
Yeah, you do. See above. Freezer.***
*Go ahead and marvel at the fact that I have managed to get and keep even one friend, given my behavior.
**Go ahead and notice how amazingly rude that is.
***Oh, relax already. Julie and I have been running this gag about how to quiet her child since the child was born. I don't have children (as I have told y'all at least 134243354334534 times,) but I do know what suffering is endured by people who have screaming infants and can find no method of placating said infants. It's rough. So rough that most parents have had moments of sincere regret while holding a six week old baby at arms length because said baby is splitting your eardrums. And you have not slept more than two hours at a stretch since the moment the infant tore your body to ribbons in its effort to get born. So we joke about it. To relief the, uh, tension.