Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Fuglets.

I'm struggling a little today. A good friend of mine from college just had a baby. She sent out more pictures of her bundle of joy today, and this baby is hands down the ugliest baby I've ever laid eyes on. So of course, I'm totally gonna have to fake it when I see this kid, and act like I'm not convinced it's actually an alien. I'm terrible at faking things. What you see is what you get. So acting like something is precious when the sight of it will make me want run away with my hands over my ass to avoid an anal probe is going to be impossible.

Now you might think I'm terrible for saying that my friend's baby looks like a damn monster. But I can say that, because when I was a baby, I was a damn monster. Truly. Even my mother agrees. ("Baby doll, you gave new meaning to a 'face only a mother could love'.") I was hidgeous. And, yet, I've turned out alright. I mean, physically, anyway. Which is another reason I don't feel bad about saying hateful things about my friend's baby. Just because her baby's ugly, doesn't mean he won't grow up to be good looking.

When I was a baby, I looked like that fat Asian baby whose picture circled the internet a couple of years ago with "the REAL Michelin Man" as the caption. Except I had red hair. I was a ginger kid so fat you couldn't even see my eyes. And I stayed in this phase for awhile. The day I was baptized, my parents did their best to de-fug me by dressing me in a beautiful white gown, and a necklace my grandmother gave me with a solitary pearl on it. After church, my mother was putting me in the car and noticed that my tire of a neck had bust the chain on the necklace, and the pearl was gone.

When we got home, she called my grandmother crying and apologizing that her fat ass of a kid had destroyed her thoughtful - and expensive - gift. But what was surely even more mortifying for my mother happened later that night. As she was bathing me, she found the missing pearl lodged in my neck.

It takes a goblin to know a goblin, and that kid definitely lives under a set of stairs. So I guess when I meet him, I'll just think about how great I turned out. That should at least get a genuine smile out of me.

But just to be safe, I'll still have my hands over my ass.

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