One of the perks of being an infant is I have no idea what my sexual orientation is...I mean shit, I could be straight, bisexual, queer or all of the above. Obviously, it should be clear to all that my future sexual desires are completely out of my control. Mom and Dad say they will love me no matter what… I wonder if they will be saying that in three minutes when they see the Picasso I created in my diaper?
Anyways, I must admit, suppose ten years from now I determine that I am straight. Well let me tell you, if that is the case, I better remember my infancy and I better remember writing this blog because I am living the f’n dream. For one, my first three days outside the ‘pee pee pool’ consisted of me being coddled all day everyday by women. I mean talk about heaven on earth; the entire new born unit does not have a single male nurse on staff. It’s similar to a strip club, but unlike Vegas, I’m the stage and the nurses hands are the dollar bills. “Make it Rain!”
Next, I need not forget that during the last three months of my forced encapsulation I got caressed by every woman and their mother. Seriously, my mom’s belly was like a Versace designed rabbit’s foot, every lady had to rub it for good luck… And in turn, this little guy got free massages. From grocery lines to our treks to dumbass four legged creature land (otherwise known as the dog park) ladies would go out of their way to rub Mom’s tummy. Gentlemen, one question, who need’s massage parlors when you’ve got in utero parlors?
Finally, as a mature four-week-old, it has become evident that women f’n love me. I am the graham cracker, the chocolate and the marshmallow all wrapped up into one. Women just want s’more of me. Let me explain. Since I left the hospital my parents have had an absurd amount of people enter our house. Each time that a lady arrives at our door, they come with fresh food and immediately ask my mother if she is doing okay. Once they get these formalities completed; Wabam, they proceed directly towards the beacon of awesomeness. Like my Mom's friend said, "He makes my ovaries hurt." The sad thing is, I actually kinda feel bad for my Dad as not a single girl gives a shit about him. That’s probably because I look like my Mom, thus I am far better looking. Simply put, it’s not my fault that I am absurdly cute, its a gene thing. Needless to say, it should be obvious to all by now that the women of this world cannot resist the aura of Anderson “The Stud” Ridder.
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