Heyo, remember this? Yeah… he went and made a fetus. Which is now a real human in pink pajamas. Kind of hard to wrap my mind around. Anyway, as I was shamelessly browsing pictures of him and his baby I had some questions.
Does this mean he’ll learn how to cook something other than quesadillas? Homeboy literally eats peanut butter from a spoon for most meals. One time I tried to make him a birthday cake and had to buy him a mixing bowl, spoon, cake pan, oil, eggs, and a measuring cup. Tragic.
Were the post-birth shots really necessary? No, I’m not talking about the kind with needles that are part of your infant’s healthcare. I mean the kind that come in small glasses and are bright red and you hold in the air while posing for Facebook pictures. I mean, I know a celebratory cigar is customary, but where is your baby? Where is your baby mama? How are you going to take care of either of them if you are asleep next to the toilet?
Are you going to pretend you believe in monogamy now? Sleeping around is not a good look when you have an infant, and it feels like if you mess up real bad she will just take her baby to Europe (a word to our readership: this is what happens when you travel internationally and can’t keep it in your pants) and you’ll never get to see it again and will probably have to shell out millions of dollars or euros or… pesos? in child support.
Do I have to, like, hold it? It’s like… you had a baby, glad it’s not me but ok sure cool let’s just go our separate ways, and then all of a sudden you see him in a grocery store over Thanksgiving and he’s got this squirmy hairy thing strapped to him and then its all “do you want to hold her” and I’m like “I don’t even know how to talk to a dog in a socially acceptable way but–” and then OHMYGODIT’SINMYARMSHELPME and then it inevitably cries because I have no game with children and then I feel weird and he feels weird and I get the gallon of milk I came for and vow never to go out in public again.