For god's sake, control yourselves
So sometime back in the fall/winter of 1976, my parents (who obviously had nothing better to do) decide it's time to pull the goalie again and try for kid number 2. A bunch of ooing, ahhing, waiting, labored breathing and screaming later, enter yours truly. (I'm referring to delivery there for anyone that may actually read this and think I've got some Freudian 'obsessed with your parents doing it' hang up)
It's a unique story, I know.
Fast- forward 27 years or so. Trust me, you aren't missing much. A lot of reading, a lot of math, disfunctional friendships/relationships/loves, some settling during shipping and voila. Here I am. Wherever in god's name that is.
Resignation, USA.
Hello! I'm home. I see the rent is due.
You see, a funny thing happened to me on the way through a typical day today. A good coworker and friend went and knocked up his wife. Of course, that means that he'll be less fun to the non-childed of us...that's typical. Well, for some reason, that means he's gotta pack up and move his life to an ass-backward coastal town to be near the wife's family. Free baby-sitting aside, there's just something wrong there. There was a time in this world where getting knocked up didn't mean you had to transplant your career/life to petrochemical hell just to make ends meet. There may have been some coupon cutting, but people got by. Ain't the case for Chadwick.
So why should I care? About his situation, I really don't. Not too much. I'll feign interests eventually about gender, and then due dates, and finally we'll talk about the little tike as we would a nice striper: length and weight.
Those'll be easy numbers to talk about. Biggest complication will be the decimal place. We won't talk about the commas as in $5,000 in doctors bills the first 6 months. $6,000 in assorted baby shwag that was unnecessary one score and seven years ago. $100,000 to send the little kid off to college in 18 short years.
Nope, we're not gonna talk about that. Kids are nothing but joy.
It's a unique story, I know.
Fast- forward 27 years or so. Trust me, you aren't missing much. A lot of reading, a lot of math, disfunctional friendships/relationships/loves, some settling during shipping and voila. Here I am. Wherever in god's name that is.
Resignation, USA.
Hello! I'm home. I see the rent is due.
You see, a funny thing happened to me on the way through a typical day today. A good coworker and friend went and knocked up his wife. Of course, that means that he'll be less fun to the non-childed of us...that's typical. Well, for some reason, that means he's gotta pack up and move his life to an ass-backward coastal town to be near the wife's family. Free baby-sitting aside, there's just something wrong there. There was a time in this world where getting knocked up didn't mean you had to transplant your career/life to petrochemical hell just to make ends meet. There may have been some coupon cutting, but people got by. Ain't the case for Chadwick.
So why should I care? About his situation, I really don't. Not too much. I'll feign interests eventually about gender, and then due dates, and finally we'll talk about the little tike as we would a nice striper: length and weight.
Those'll be easy numbers to talk about. Biggest complication will be the decimal place. We won't talk about the commas as in $5,000 in doctors bills the first 6 months. $6,000 in assorted baby shwag that was unnecessary one score and seven years ago. $100,000 to send the little kid off to college in 18 short years.
Nope, we're not gonna talk about that. Kids are nothing but joy.
posted by Jake Barnes @ 2:27 AM
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