It is true.
It's different when they're yours.
The news babies in my life have this profound ability to make me love them.
I hate that, too.
If I feel this way about the babies who are important to me, then I should support all of these delusional 'parent' fucks who think that their children are amazing.
And that can't be right.
Yet it's undeniable.
I went from refusing to pick up anyone's child-
"Hold her? Does she always land on her feet?
No? I'll pass, then."
To finding myself unable to put them down.
It's okay, really.
I'm okay with loving babies.
Their useless little brains and bodies.
Their insistence on making noise when there really isn't any need for a fuss.
If I only love those close to me then I resemble so many people I can't stand.
If I love all children then I'm unbalanced and weird.
Never mind the fact that I'm emotionally incapable of loving all children, I'd rather that weren't the case either way.
Y'know who loves children indiscriminately?
Spinsters (some of you thought I was going to say 'pedophiles').
Weird, desperate women who knit selflessly and insist on talking about it.
Not my scene.
I only mention all of this because I'm resisting a seething hatred for the children in this coffee shop.
But it's not them.
It's never them.
Nanny is supposed to stoop once in a while, and say shit like:
"You're being loud and there are other ears besides yours.
Play quiet, okay dumplings?"
Nanny's just sitting there, though.
Acting as though they're not making a sound (which is what's truly infuriating).
Children are closer to dogs than people; you don't befriend, you break.
Anyway, whatever.
Complaining about kids is thoroughly discussed in this blog.
I'll tell you what isn't, though:
Helen Hunt's current whereabouts.
Not just some forgettable sitcom wench, she was legit in As Good As It Gets.
Twister was a two-hour Dodge Ram commercial, but at least a lot of people watched it.
Where did you go, Helen?
Come back to us.
Classic beauty beats some toe-thumbs archetype any day.
Ugh.
She's no hotter than most ungulates.
Anyone looks hot after four hours of primping and one hour of airbrushing.
True beauty is throwing on a sundress with very little makeup and carrying that throughout the entire barbecue.
Helen could do that.
Megan would probably just regurgitate the ribs.
Jamming her disfigured thumbs down her lacquered esophagus-
Alright, I'm making myself queasy, so I'm going to go.
Just remember that you look great.
Even if you're hideous.
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