dear the people i went to high school with who now have kids: evil children will eat your insides on toast as part of a balanced breakfast
i'm gonna need you to stop expecting me to car
e. and for the love of all things holy, please
i. do. not. want. to. see. baby. pictures.
that's the only thing worse than if you're actually toting the baby along with you and you introduce me to the child--forcing me to make small talk in ridiculous voices with an infant who can't tell a cat from a shoe. by showing me the picture(s) of your vile spawn, i'm forced to do the one thing more personally revolting--make small talk with you. about your infant. who can't tell a cat from a shoe. but, God love him/her/it, he/she/it practically never cries. oh! except when it's feeding time. which is all
the time for an infant--i've taken care of babies before. you're not fooling me.
here's the thing. i'm just not interested. so you can procreate. great job. you and 90% of the reproductive-aged people in the u.s. but i feel very much the same about people having babies as i do about chasing alligators in the everglades. just because you're capable doesn't mean you should. the alligator has his ways of finding out where you live.
lucky for you, he'll be happy to take your children in exchange.
but you? you're all out there, spreading your evil seed amongst us. letting them wander freely in the grocery store, where i have to avoid running them over, because i walk more quickly than their tottering, clumsy strolls. letting them scream for a candy bar while i'm just trying to make a bank deposit. smacking them when they do something stupid, but not bothering to tell them how to behave more appropriately.
and you're letting them drink soda. shame on you. i cannot begin to count the number of times i've seen parents put soda in a sippy cup. seriously, people?! my ovaries are frightened to the point of making things very uncomfortable for me, and it's getting tiresome to constantly reassure them that they're not going to have to suffer to meet such ends.
i have no tolerance for your offspring, and i'm through feigning interest while i'm trying to buy cards for mother's day. just because we went to high school together and we're standing in the same aisle at a store does not give you the right to talk to me. you weren't nice to me back then, and i certainly don't have time for you now.
so, stop showing off your burdens of ill-repute. i know that makes little to no sense, but who cares? neither does any of you having given birth to any portion of the future of our universe.
- please don't make me guess your baby's gender. you will be sorely disappointed with my response.
- if i get the slightest inkling that you couldn't afford to carry or give birth to that chap, you will have to face my wrath.
- and if i see you in line buying your beer separately from the rest of your purchases, for which you've used some sort of government check, i'm going to unleash a whole herd of friday-shirt unicorns all over you. and you'll deserve it.
oh, and--for the last time--i don't care what else you've been up to since graduation either.(**faye elizabeth and addison, please note that this post does not apply to you**)