they say objectivity is the first thing to go
dammit!
an old friend of mrs nice guy's came over the other day, seven-month-old daughter in tow. and fuck it if that weensy angel princess isn't the cutest fucking little rugrat that ever lived. seriously, this baby could be a wee catalogue model, the poster-child for perfection, secretary general of the UN. and mr nice guy is fucking furious.
why the ire? isn't it obvious? there is officially now NO WAY that the nice guys can compete. there is NO WAY the nice guys will have a baby even remotely in the same neighborhood of cuteness as this little fairy sprite. and you know what, it is a competition, motherfucker! it is a zero sum game.
so here's how mr nice guy figures it: his only hope is to have the world's fugliest baby. look. i know parents are crazy. i know newly-minted moms and dads just love their perfect little woogums to pieces and no one on earth can convince them that the fruit of their loins is anything but beautiful. well. i swear to you, dear reader, that if the nice guys give birth to a hideous bugeyed gila monster, they will FULLY ADMIT to having an ugly baby.
portrait of the baby as a young monster
so, i promise, in the event of a gilababy, this exchange will never take place:
nice guys: here's our daughter, isn't she lovely?
friend: hey, WOW! uh. gosh, there she is all right! isn't she, uh, special? and very right there, too!
nice guys: say it! SAY SHE'S BEAUTIFUL!
no. we will frankly and fully admit it if our newly-minted screaming shit-factory looks like it belongs in the spider monkey colony or lizard habitat.
nice guys: here is our little tree sloth. now, shield your eyes as i remove her bonnet.
friend: aw, hewwo, wittle fwiend ... OH MY GOD SHE'S HIDEOUS!
nice guys: we warned you.
friend: MY EYES! THEY'RE BURNING!
mr nice guy is starting to look forward to this bit of parenting.
an old friend of mrs nice guy's came over the other day, seven-month-old daughter in tow. and fuck it if that weensy angel princess isn't the cutest fucking little rugrat that ever lived. seriously, this baby could be a wee catalogue model, the poster-child for perfection, secretary general of the UN. and mr nice guy is fucking furious.
why the ire? isn't it obvious? there is officially now NO WAY that the nice guys can compete. there is NO WAY the nice guys will have a baby even remotely in the same neighborhood of cuteness as this little fairy sprite. and you know what, it is a competition, motherfucker! it is a zero sum game.
so here's how mr nice guy figures it: his only hope is to have the world's fugliest baby. look. i know parents are crazy. i know newly-minted moms and dads just love their perfect little woogums to pieces and no one on earth can convince them that the fruit of their loins is anything but beautiful. well. i swear to you, dear reader, that if the nice guys give birth to a hideous bugeyed gila monster, they will FULLY ADMIT to having an ugly baby.
portrait of the baby as a young monster
so, i promise, in the event of a gilababy, this exchange will never take place:
nice guys: here's our daughter, isn't she lovely?
friend: hey, WOW! uh. gosh, there she is all right! isn't she, uh, special? and very right there, too!
nice guys: say it! SAY SHE'S BEAUTIFUL!
no. we will frankly and fully admit it if our newly-minted screaming shit-factory looks like it belongs in the spider monkey colony or lizard habitat.
nice guys: here is our little tree sloth. now, shield your eyes as i remove her bonnet.
friend: aw, hewwo, wittle fwiend ... OH MY GOD SHE'S HIDEOUS!
nice guys: we warned you.
friend: MY EYES! THEY'RE BURNING!
mr nice guy is starting to look forward to this bit of parenting.
posted by mr. nice guy at 10:17 PM
3 Comments:
As the mother of two I can confirm that you are 100% correct. All new parents think their newborn is the most beautiful ever. It's not until years later that you look at the pictures and realize that you've given birth to the cast from Star Wars. I have a Yoda and an ewok.
(PS - I first glanced at the title of this one and thought you wrote "profanity" instead of objectivity. I was all ready to tell you how to get around Jr.'s picking up the word "fuck" right before a visit to grandma's. I'll save that for the appropriate time :)
ummm. well... about that beautiful baby thing. I had twins. I was checking out of the hospital, going home with them, and called them "My Little ETs." They looked just like ET, only worse. And I say that in the loving mommy way...lol. Well my MIL hit the roof, and my parenting skills were questioned. To this day (they're friggen 19 now!) she has never let me forget my comment on that day. Not even blaming it on the drugs got me off that hook.
You are hysterically funny. :] I'm plowing through your archives (hee!) and trying to disguise my frequent laughter as coughing. Yeah ... this sloth-at-work thing doesn't work too well. Keep up the good work. :]
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