Gargoyles are imminent...
Let’s see, painting the nursery… done. Assembling the crib… done. Making a plaster cast of my pregnancy boobs, painting them bronze, dressing it all up like it’s a Vegas showgirl and hanging it on the nursery wall… so done.
That poor kid is going to wake up and think he’s at the Bunny Ranch.
Now, I know I’ve been a little hard on pregnant people before. I realize that it’s just the hormonal imbalance that makes them do such asinine things. Maybe I’ve even been unnecessarily harsh. Maybe it’s not moronic to have an update on how long you’ve been breast feeding attached to every single e-mail that leaves your computer. I might be wrong on that one. Maybe you’re not a pompous douchebag for sending people copies of your sonogram pictures. I could be wrong on that one too. People probably want to see digital snapshots of the inside of your lady business. And maybe I’m even wrong on this one. I’m starting to think that making a naked plaster cast of yourself isn’t such a bad idea. In fact, I’m going to make four plaster casts of my man junk, and mount them on the corners of my roof like gargoyles. Maybe they’ll scare away crazy pregnant people.