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Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Little Crow's Eye View

My First Daddy's Day

Well, my first Father's Day came and went and I gotta tell you it was a bit of an anti-climax. I guess no one really explained it all to me properly because I was under the impression that on Fathers Day you got to pick out a new father. Something involving a stork or some such, I never really understood the details.

But that isn't what happens at all, let me tell you. I mean, maybe that's what happens when Fathers Day happens to fall on opposite day* but real Fathers Day is balls. Seriously, here I was all geeked up about getting rid of that bearded freak, DT**, when I woke up to find that not only was DT still my daddy but Fathers Day was actually some government-sanctioned festival celebrating the very bearded layabout I'd so looked forward to giving the boot.

Needless to say I was ticked off, and to make things worse M insisted I wear this horrible mess of a onesie declaring my affection for the Ginger-haired ape. I protested my shabby treatment by blowing gas bubbles onto my lips, but neither of them seemed to notice my displeasure. So I pooed my diaper. I know, I know, it was uncivilized and base but I had no other choice. If I hadn't done something quickly M and DT might have done that face touching thing that so disgusts me.***

Anyway, after my diaper change and some gift exchanging DT put me in the 'car seat'.**** After the way I had been treated all morning I was fully primed for a good ole fashioned meltdown. I wasn't gonna let this go down like that so I was moving the arms and kicking the legs and doing my little coughing thing, you know, really starting the car (insert video of starting car) and just as I was about to really start screaming M showed up with a bottle of The Formula. Damn that woman! It's like she has telepathy or something. How does she always know when I'm too hungry to repel The Formula's powers? I need to do more research into this...

Well, I tried my best to keep the tantrum going but there was nothing I could do, I still have no defenses against The Formula.***** And to make things worse I couldn't keep my mouth closed because I still have that damn sucking reflex and I was so hungry. Oh body how you betray me! Well I tried to resist but slowly I was overcome by the power of The Formula and I was lulled into a deep trance filled with blobs of color and hideous bearded faces.

When I woke M and DT had transported me to a restaurant. Another restaurant!****** I don't know the name of the place******* but trust me you don't want to eat there. The place smelled like pancakes and there wasn't a single good sucking boob in the whole darn waitstaff. M and DT seemed to like it, but that isn't much of a recommendation. You should see the crap they eat. I shudder to think about it.

How do you like them stinking apples, Beardo!?

I don't know why but I was feeling rather generous (perhaps it was the after effects of the Ambien in The Formula) and so I sat politely by while M and DT finished their meals, using the time to try to figure out what exactly those crumply things on the sides of my head are for.******** Fortunately the restaurant portion of the day was mercifully short and before I knew it M pulled out another bottle of The Formula (honestly I don't know where the heck she's storing it, but she seems to have a never-ending supply of the stuff) and soon I was drugged again. When I woke I found myself in the most disgusting, dazzling, bizarre display of corporate hubris I've ever seen: the World of Coke.

And that my friends is another story altogether. Stay tuned for the whole tawdry tale. Next time. Next time, my friends.

Until then, that's the word.

Little Crow

*which is another thing I must not understand properly. When the hell is opposite day? From what I can gather it starts whenever M asks DT to take out the trash.
**My excitement level was so high that I even magnanimously forewent soiling my diaper in TJ Maxx when M and I were buying a gift for what I thought at the time was my new daddy. I told M to get the beer stein gift set^ but she ignored my suggestion and went instead with this ridiculous 'I Love My Daddy' blah blah blah onesie. I told her I wasn't gonna wear that gaudy crap^^ but she acted like she didn't understand me and I was forced to submit eventually to M's domineering will. Just wait til I can lift my head on my own. Then you will know my wrath, Devil Woman.
^I mean, what guy wouldn't want beer steins, right?
^^Being a baby these days is all about aloofness and wicked cool not crazed parental partisanship.

***after all I don't know who DT thinks he is but Moms is mine, all mine, no matter how insufferably obnoxious I may find her sometimes.
****which, for those of you who may not know what I'm talking about, is a medieval torture device used to subdue babies for transport to and from bars and restaurants.
*****Just what the 'formula' is I haven't been able to find out yet, but I suspect it has trace amounts of liquid Ambien and possibly a bowel relaxing narcotic.
******I swear, I know I haven't been here long but I am astounded by the range and variety of these feeding troughs for adults. And none of them, not one, serves an ounce of BM! How do they stay in business!?*******To be honest I didn't pay much attention. I scanned the menu for a moment but wrote the place off when all I saw was biscuits and muffins. I mean I like carbs as much as the next baby but I prefer mine from the Boob.
********Update: I overheard a conversation the other day between a 2 year old and her mother and it seems as though these crumply things are called 'ears' and they are used for 'hearing'. Whatever the heck that is.