{"id":3119,"date":"2010-04-10T07:54:39","date_gmt":"2010-04-10T11:54:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/morningseditionists.com\/msblog\/?p=3119"},"modified":"2010-04-10T07:54:39","modified_gmt":"2010-04-10T11:54:39","slug":"april-showers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/2010\/04\/10\/april-showers\/","title":{"rendered":"April Showers"},"content":{"rendered":"

So, in a not exactly rare occurrence, one of the women where I work is gonna have a baby. Well whoopdie-frickin’ doo. Now, I certainly respect motherhood, don’t get me wrong. Mostly, I respect the part where I’m<\/i><\/b> not the one who gets pregnant and\/or has to give birth (this, by the way, is the most concrete evidence I can image that, if there actually is<\/em><\/strong> a God, He’s gotta be a dude). So I naturally think it’s just freakin’ wonderful when women where I work get knocked up, and I also think it’s just fine and dandy when the other<\/i><\/b> women at work want to make a big goddamn deal over it, and throw them a baby shower. But fer chrissakes, don’t invite me<\/em><\/strong> to the damn thing, and don’t bother telling me where she’s registered for gifts. Being a guy, I should be exempt from all non-hygiene related shower activity, including wedding showers, baby showers, shower invitations, shower planning, shower gift giving, and, most definitely, shower attending. You wanna go out for a beer, fine, I’m in. Sitting around, oohing and aahing over some unrelenting parade of stupid, cutesy baby gifts that won’t fit two weeks after birth, however, is not my idea of a good time. I don’t give a shit about booties, blankies, doilies, onesies (whatever the hell they<\/i><\/b> are), or nappies. Wrap the little bastids up in the Sunday Times ’til they stop spitting up and crapping themselves for all I care. When they’re old enough to cut the grass and shovel the driveway, give me a call. You wanna capture my interest? Get a puppy. <\/p>\n

And, hey, sorry, but you know what? Don’t expect me to chip in for some damn group gift, either. I don’t have kids and am past my chiild-bearing years, so just leave me out of it, OK? It’s bad enough I have to pay to educate your dirty little germ-spreading spawn (very few of whom seem worth paying for, past about sixth grade or so), don’t hit me up for a donation just ‘cuz you took it upon yourself to breed. You know damn well you’ll be hittin’ me up in a couple years to buy some overpriced candy bars or crappy Girl Scout cookies (4 bucks for like six Thin Mints; GMAFB. I don’t even like<\/i><\/b> Thin Mints), so how’s about you at least give me a break ’til the damn thing’s done gestating? <\/p>\n

Not that I’m a miserable old man or anything, but, jeezus, I work in a pretty large organization, and it seems like every day, somebody I barely know (or have never even heard of) is either getting married, having babies, selling raffle tickets, or dropping dead. There seems to be a constant collection going on, and, being already married, w\/o kids, and not quite dead yet, I feel like I’m getting the short end of the stick. <\/p>\n

And I can’t say no ‘cuz, lucky me, the one goddamn thing about being Catholic that took with me was the whole perpetual guilt thing (though I guess I should consider myself lucky I wasn’t in it long enough to have to blow a priest or anything).<\/p>\n

Oh well, there’s a swarm of old broads preparing to infest the house for some kind of meeting this morning, so I’ve gotta finish reinforcing my basement bunker. That’s where the dogs and I will be hiding ’til the coast is clear. <\/p>\n

<\/param><\/param><\/param><\/embed><\/object><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So, in a not exactly rare occurrence, one of the women where I work is gonna have a baby. Well whoopdie-frickin’ doo. Now, I certainly respect motherhood, don’t get me wrong. Mostly, I respect the part where I’m not the one who gets pregnant and\/or has to give birth (this, by the way, is the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3119","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3119","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3119"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3119\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3122,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3119\/revisions\/3122"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3119"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3119"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.morningseditionists.com\/msblog2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3119"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}