OK, so apparently everyone in the world with a blog is either pregnant or has a kid or whatever and I hate them all. (even those that I know personally. Sorry, but there’s just too much hate being unused in the world now that Obama is in office and we’re all “Yes we can”-ing and everything. So I’m using all of mine on the parental people. It’s my duty as an American, y’all.) I don’t have a kid, and I’m approaching “super-old”, and I’m afraid that if I have a kid now my Mom and Dad won’t live long enough to help me with ABSOLUTELY EVERY PART OF THE PROCESS which is necessary because I’m (you may not know this yet) TOTALLY SINGLE.
So then I think if I’m just not gonna get to do the parent-thing then I should really be DOING something with my life. Taking advantage of the fact that I can pick up and fly to Borneo without having to pack little pink backpacks or find someone who would be willing to be someone’s mother for a week. I think of all the things that my parenty friends tell me they wish they could do but can’t, due to the additional steps involved when you have kids, and I’m not doing any of them either. So what the hell?
So I think I need to figure this out. I am either going to go to my doctor and say “please to start poking me with needles and soaking my brain in extra heaps of girly-chemicals so that I might spend all my days flashing back and forth from tears to anger to Cheetos, Cheetos, CHEETOS and just generally wreaking havoc on my life so that I can give you every single spare dollar I have to buy little wriggly boy-worms which you’ll use to infect me so that I can come back later and be told “nothin’. $300 please.” And then repeat over and over.
OR I’m going to quit my job and become a world-famous travel photographer, winging my way from Sydney to Paris to Reykjavik to Guadalajara and taking one draw-jopping picture after another, and I’m gonna go to all the amazing book parties in New York and tell stories like “and so after we picked all the shrimp tales out of her Wonder Bra and wiped the cocktail sauce off the Lamborghini we all decided there was nothing left to do but jump into the Jell-O pool. Again.” and just generally be that spectacular friend that you envy even though she’s always staring at your two kids with wistful eyes.
Or maybe I’ll just eat more Cheetos and watch some General Hospital. (they blew-up the O.R., y’all!)