I debated how this post should have entered the blogosphere. It could have had the personality, or lack thereof, of Steven Hawking . If given a chance to get emotional and build up tears in its eyes, it could have came forward with a box of tissues and done a pretty fair impression of Speaker of the House John Boehner. Maybe it could have been introduced as a product of what happens when Bill Gates doesn’t get a grip on your computer with all the Microsoft Updates and been nicknamed “Watson” the quick-witted electronic contestant from Jeopardy. As cruel as this may sound, it would be very uncharacteristic of “Funny Bone Laugh Lines” if I did not mention it, but perhaps, it could have just stared at you with a look glazed like a cheap Krispy Kreme doughnut and began slurring incoherently replicating the LIVE reporter during the Grammys. Any one of these stage appearances would have helped ratings; however, one in particular is considered to be the people’s choice award—strutting onto your computer screen resembling the egg costume that Lady Gaga had worn during her hideous performance of “Born This Way” on CBS last Sunday night. I need not say anymore about that little getup.
Now that I have you hot and bothered, similar to the symptoms of Bieber Fever, I’d like to chat with you over what is now possibly a cold cup of coffee about a baby’s life in the momma’s stomach.
Since half of what a female eats goes straight to the young one, a food craving that a woman gets when pregnant is the child looking through the Yellow pages of a phone book and placing an order for takeout. Ultrasounds, also known as a medical form of webcam, indicate a messy room from the get go and often finds the parents remarking to the unborn fetus in the video, “I love what you’ve done with place...” Don’t be fooled, folks, your unborn child may say he’s recycling with all the drunken aluminum cans piled in the corner, but that’s just a front. Be optimistic and convince yourself that he’s beginning to stuff that cashed-in money in your bellied mattress and saving for college. Not to worry about the legal action he is about to take due to his violated rights to privacy.
Laid back as a reclining sofa bed, this little guy is at times seen watching reruns of “Three’s Company” and been known to squander the rent payment on the ol’ “oven” for visitation rights to the tanning bed. A dark complexion, like that of George Hamilton’s, does not come easy or cheap. Obviously, a huge Green Bay Packer fan due to all the kicking and jumping that took place the night of the Super Bowl. Either that or he wanted to be born prematurely and slap Christina Aguilera for botching up the National Anthem.
With cell phones being the lifeline to society, the still-developing baby signed up with a wireless plan to which unlimited texting enables him to alert the mother of his soon arrival. If she missed the boat on that message, she is sure to become aware of the upcoming due date when she sees the words “U-Haul” on her next credit card statement. Obama was questioning who had leaked his State of the Union Address before the deliverance—it was the unborn infant pulling a “Nixon” and configuring a wire-tapping scheme in a very Julian Assange sort of way.
This little “bun” probably will have to Google the meaning of “fiscal responsibility” and will only read of Social Security from held over checkbook registers preserved in mothballs by his grandparents, but will not struggle with the enunciation of the words “Hand out.”
Free High Speed Internet Available—A BIG sell to a conceived child wanting to primp and pamper himself in nature’s P.O. Box (with the stork being the Post Master General) for nine months. This little perk, now installed in all 2011 moms, lets kids interact online and enroll in Pre-Preschool. Instant messaging signals to the parent not to rush to the hospital because the soon-to-be newborn will just call a cab.
Tummy security cameras catch him writing on the walls of the womb, “I will not make my mother do hard labor in the hospital” at least several hundred times. His only saving grace from escaping a time-out was that this wall previously spoken of was made of dry-erase board-like substance and will therefore wipe right off. Too bad twins weren’t expected; could’ve made Fridays Pictionary night inside the mother’s manufactured Metrodome. Although, he would have opted for the other half of the chalkboard be cork in order to pin up the latest Hooter Girls calendar, and if only his renter’s insurance would cover the malfunction to the Muzak pipeline… Already learning that one can’t always get what they want in life.
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