Thursday, September 4, 2014

pepper fetus

"Entertain me, peasants."
Oh I know, I’ll write about my BABY. But you know, that’s my job now, this baby, and so at the end of the day, that’s the thing I talk about. And you need to know that I have had some WEIRD jobs, one of which required my attendance at a function so sketchy it necessitated that my then 17-year-old brother accompany me and pretend he was an architect named Tim, which is weird because now he’s an architect named Phil. And then I tried to quit that job twice but was ignored both times, so I kept going to work. 

But this mothering the baby job, this is the oddest of the jobs. This baby is really alert and really royal and really insistent that she be entertained by her peasant mother. But then she’s like, “UGH MOM YOU ALREADY TOLD THAT JOKE GET SOME NEW MATERIAL,” and then I’m scrambling to do something NEW! FUN! ENTERTAINING! before she throws tomatoes at me or has me hauled off to the dungeon. Now I daily find myself in some odd singing and jig dancing situations that obviously I have been sharing with everyone because of that share-embarrassing-things-compulsion that forced me to start this dumb blog in the first place.

Last week I ended up standing on top of a ledge, looking out a window, swaying, and singing about spaghetti covered in cheese and the meatball that was lost when somebody sneezed and how it rolled off the table and onto the floor and then that poor meatball rolled out the door, and then I was like WHYYYYY is this a song??? And then later, when I was bouncing on the bed and singing about down by the bay where the watermelons grow and how back to our home, we cannot go because if we do, our mother will say, “Have you ever seen a whale with a polka dot tail down by the bay?” and then I was like WHOSE MOTHER WOULD EVER SAY THAT?? and WHO IS WRITING THESE WEIRD SONGS?? and also WHALES WITH POLKA DOT TAILS NEATO! 

I don’t know why I know these weird songs, but I suppose I’m glad that I do because they are coming in handy with the demands of my new job and my very demanding bald baby boss.

Last week while Her Majesty Baby was crying, Husband cut a pepper in half, and there was a weird little growth inside the pepper. Husband says, “What is this?” And I say, “It’s a pepper fetus.” And Queen Madam Baby stopped crying because she thought that was funny. Then Husband says, “Should I eat it?” and I said “NO! We do not eat fetuses.” And then Royal Highness Baby thought that was funny. So then I said, “It’s a pepper fetus, please don’t eat us!” And it was working, this pepper fetus talk, and Lady Baby was pleased. So then I invented a little jig and chanted, “It’s a pepper fetus, please don’t eat us!” I did this about ten times and then Husband chimed in, dancing and chanting, “It's a pepper fetus, please don’t eat us!” This goes on for several minutes until we are like, “It’s a pepper fetus, please don’t eat us OH NO WHAT IS HAPPENING WHY ARE WE WEIRD,” and then I’m like, “I think I am going to be less judge-y about the lyrics to the sneezing spaghetti song.”

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