Blaaah. Crying baby? Are you serious?
Shut up, baby. You’re annoying.
We figured out how to muffle a car but not a baby? A baby has been around way longer than a car, so what have these scientists been wasting all their time on? If I ever get out of this goddamn pharmacy I’m gonna blog about how stupid that is.
Maybe a pillow would work.
It would be soft and comfortable for the baby, too. Everybody wins.
Rick is too fat for his bicycle. Fat fat fat. Squuuueeeeze. Haha! I can’t believe I never squeezed his belly.
Add that to my bucket list.
Hmmm. That’s the only thing on my list so far.
I can’t think of a single other thing I want to do.
I guess boxing a kangaroo would make for a good story to tell my grandkids.
But it would have to be a pretty weak kangaroo, who obeyed all the rules. Maybe a wallaby, because it’s littler. But then, wallabies are at groin level. How about a wallaby on stilts? Yeah, that’s perfect.
And I’ll tell my grandkids it was a lion, which, if you think about it, isn’t exactly untrue.
Hmmmm. Yes it is. It’s untrue. But if anyone deserves to be lied to, it’s a child. Think about Santa Claus. He’s most American children’s favorite person, and he’s just a big, fat, Rick-physiquin’ lie.
“What are you doing for Christmas, Bertrand?”
“Oh, you know, putting a tree inside my home, hanging socks over the fire like a peasant… lying to my children.”
I love Christmas. Shut up.
You shut up, too, baby — Oh, you’re quiet. Your mom gave you a pacifier.
I’m gonna pacify you, baby. With a rubber nipple. Put this rubber nipple in your mouth and then you will understand what Gandhi meant. Here’s a tiny picket sign as well.
Fake nip. Haha.
You won’t get any milk out of it, though, as much as you try. Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you want milk?
You’re a stupid baby. When you grow up you’ll be that guy who keeps trying the same locked door over and over.
I never fell for that pacifier sham. Your mind is weak, you infant. Like a wallaby on stilts.
The bassist from Deerhoof is my friend. We hang out all the time. She’d probably even marry me if I asked her.
“Hey, Deerhoof woman, I like you so much that I want to be bound to you by a legal contract. I feel so confident with our relationship that I want the government to keep us together. Here is a bribe that you can wear on your finger.”
Rick’s my friend as well. One time he called me at my home right when I was about to make soup. He suggested that we instead put on uncomfortable clothes and go to this other building to eat their food while a person smiles at us for money and lots of strangers sit near us and eat their things. I said yes but it was less fun than we expected.
Shirley Temple is alive.
Also, I bet they called detectives flatfoot back then because they couldn’t get into the military. That’s smart because I wouldn’t let Humphrey Bogart into the military either. He’s too old. And he’s an actor, duh! He already has a job.
“Hi, I’m Humphrey Bogart, I’m here to deliver the bagels.” What if that happened, huh? What if he delivered bagels instead? Haha.
“Humphrey! You’re ashing your cigarette all over my chive spread!”
“Sorry, I got distracted by that dame over there.”
“Dames like that don’t date bagel deliverymen! No matter how sad and homely they look! Now tell Clark Gable to fetch the toaster before I lick you both!”
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! I’ll tell that story the next time I’m invited to a really cool party.
I hope Rick and the bassist will be there.
I hope it’s just us three.