Forth from the sperm of Mars and egg of Venus:

A wee-Veni is developing within my beautiful girlfriend.  A translator is not available at this time so if you don’t understand that I’m trying to convey that she and I are having a baby girl, then you are s.o.l.  Don’t ask me what s.o.l. means because I don’t know.  It kind of sounds racist and I’m certainly not that.  I don’t process skin color or know that pasty white people are often confused with mozzarella sticks covered in Elmer’s glue.  Thankfully, that makes me a racist-handicap, meaning I’m incapable of contracting the racist germ by sleeping on colored OR colorless sheets (not that I can even tell the difference.  Insert sad emoticon here).  Not that I would ever try.  How could I?  If I can’t understand colors then I can’t recognize racism even if it were to introduce itself to me with misleading politeness to gain my trust.  Thanks, but I would never fall for that.  I have seen a movie from the 30’s and I know the best thing to do is to point at it and scream out “STRANGER DANGER!!” until the police show up with their rape whistles to assist me across the street.

I’m excited to be a father; if it’s anything like being Luke Skywalker’s father then holy hell am I about to live the epic life.  There’s a senile elderly gent down my street that frequently wears oversized bathrobes and he has a smoker’s voice too.  Close enough, he could act as my mentor and enunciate and drag out the last vowel of the last word of each sentence he complEEtes.  Eff you Star Wars nerds, I am about to live the life.  In all seriousness, I am the last person I ever thought would be a dad — the last person anybody thought would be one but ever since my girlfriend and I found out that I — I mean she, was pregnant, I’ve had this very deep-rooted calm feeling about it all.  I can be an amazing father, there’s so much I want to teach her and show her.  I’m looking forward to reading her the United States Constitution at bedtime, I’m pretty sure she will fall asleep out of boredom.

Initially, we were sure we were having a boy, thanks to a misleading and early ultrasound.  Ultra inaccurate.  Can I sue someone somewhere for that?  We began buying laddie clothes a little bit at a time and then like the initial big bang that created the universe as well as the one that came from outside last night and woke me up, we got the news:


Click on that picture, it’s an ultrasound photo from that day.  Hmm, at least she likes guns, who cares if it shoots heart-shaped bullets.  I’m not so sure about that Gandalf staff of hers though, it’s too high profile for a newborn — er, for a pre-born.  Nonetheless, we have only four more months to go.

There’s a lot of love surrounding my girlfriend, myself, and our little one and I couldn’t ask for anything more than that.  I do want a 60″ tv and a playstation 3, though.  If anybody is reading this, take note of that and act accordingly for I am due a man-cave.

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2 thoughts on “Forth from the sperm of Mars and egg of Venus:

  1. All hail, the soon-to-be Snaddy!

  2. Ok, I seriously love everything about this post.

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