slackin'

Yeah I'm slackin'. I've decided that there must be some methodical way to slack my way through life. Any suggestions? The wife wants a baby... and it exhausts me just to think about it. Hence the slack. From Yoda's perspective: Marriage leads to baby, baby leads to diapers, diapers lead to suffering...

I mean, hey, we have a dog. The houseplants keep dying, so I think that before we bring forth another from the beyond, we'd better be able to keep the dachsund alive for at least a few months longer. That argument doesn't fly with the missuss, though. Where I think "let's have fun now, while we're young!"; she thinks "let's have babies now, and DIE before we ever have fun again! Mwahahahaha!!!"

Okay maybe not quite so dramatic, but to her, "baby" equals "fun" equals "happy family." To me, "baby" equals "disproportionate monster that poops without warning" equals "screams too much in public so family stays home and leads collective existence in misery until retirement."

Yes, I know that babies are cute. My beotch brother has a cute baby. He also had the right number of Wisdom Teeth, while I was graced with two or three "bonus" molars that were graciously ripped out at the oral surgeon's. Needless to say, while his kids are cute, I have a pretty good idea that my kid will be such a hideous radioactively-conceived Quasimodo bell-ringer that people won't even be able to fake a "coochie-coo" when they see it. My kid will be flatulent. Snotty. Rude. I expect it to pass gas instead of start crying when the doctor smacks it, then follow with a snicker reminiscent of a Chucky doll. (You reading this Flyboy Jr.? Remember the pain your father endured even BEFORE you were conceived! Remember when Daddy retires!!!) Yeah, like my kid'll ever claim me as a parent.

So I'm slackin'. Even the thought of children exhausts me. "Slack. Slack. Slack."

Next message: The inevitable spawn.

dfb