advent child

nine months ago, my muse and i made love. but that day was unlike the others. it was beyond the sensual enlacement of soul and body. we did not just become one. we achieved the perfect catalyst spark of our bond to ignite the biological flame. that day, my muse and i made love and created life.

any moment now, that love we have made will be born. and it is with immense delight for us that our little cuddler will lead this (r)evolutionary existence as a girl. to be honest, i wanted a son. actually we all wished for a boy. for months, our daughter kept her privates concealed and her parents perplexed. around that time, the gender didnt matter to us anymore. all we wanted then was for the baby to be healthy and when her femininity was finally revealed, we didnt have an ounce of disappointment. that confirmation put my imagination on full throttle. i saw myself reading poetry to her, combing her hair while she plays chopin on the piano, watching horror movies with her and running on a beach shore with her. jeean and i even spent a whole night perfecting the name we want for her. our tigress's name, which sounds uniquely sweet (or sweetly unique), shall be unveiled on the day of her emergence.

i dont want to divulge the minutiae of our planned parenting procedures but one thing weve sworn not to do is persuade her into a career she does not want. we will do our very best to guide her to a happy but proper way of life, making sure she does not grow up into a makeup-dependent social-climbing bimbo prancing around and talking like a two-bit cyprian. but alas i am getting too far ahead of myself. pardon this impatient parent for craving his cherubic aesthete's expeditious liberty from her uterine sanctuary.

i may use big words now but none of them will suffice to define exactly how happy and proud i am to be the father of this baby. i know that this odyssey isn't just smiles and tickles and baby unicorns galloping on rainbows, but im not one bit afraid. they way i see it, fatherhood is like leveling up as a man, the same with hitting puberty, having a job and getting married, and such furtherance presents new challenges to overcome (birthday boss battle) and new skills to be learned (+1 diaper dexterity). and there'll be no game overs for me in this epic two-player adventure until the day i die.

anyways, whenever she chooses to come out, may our daughter have a safe journey, both for her and her mother, from dimension womb to her vast, new, playground world where boundless love awaits her.

the sky is blue

most bloggers would start the year by posting something positive, usually about putting the mistakes of 2009 behind and looking forward to a happy 2010. most bloggers. but not me. sure, i'll be a father real soon and there's no better year-opener than having a baby daughter. i'll do that when she's out. so, in the meantine, let's do a recap of some recent f-word-appropriate events.

i used to watch the tonight show with jay leno, especially the part where he shows hilarious newspaper clippings, which, in retrospect, seems to be the only funny thing about that show. but i enjoyed late night with conan o'brien more (even before it blipped into mainstream audience radar) especially with the occasional appearances of triumph, the masturbating bear and the vomiting kermit. the very first episode of late night i saw was the one where famke janssesn demonstrated her goldeneye character's trademark leg squeeze. anyways, so jay leno passed the tonight show torch to conan last year but then, in a dazzling display of douchebaggery, the big-chinned bastard took it back, forcing conan to a later timeslot. conan, of course, wont take that crap and has decided to leave nbc. still no word on where coco will go but i've got two words for nbc and jay leno: fuck you.

traffic jams and idiot drivers test my boiling point, too, but the heat never leaves the car, except for the angry honking. this jason ivler guy, however, blamed his lousy driving skills on the car ahead of him and traded three bullets for the poor guy's life. as expected of all testicle-deprived assholes, mr. ivler pussied out and disappeared like his balls. for months, the nbi searched every crook and nanny but the cocksniffer could not be found. some guy who didnt even look like him was detained and deported from qatar just because he shared a similar name. so, where's waldork? well, lo and behold, the turdlicker's been home all along, in a secret basement room, abetted by his mother, who had previously made endearing public statements asking her son to surrender and told the police who had made several visits to their house that her bitch-ass son was not there. im all for loving your children, but supporting your child's murder capabilities is stupid parenting. so, fuck you, jason ivler and your mom.

oh, and in relation to the preceding post, fuck you, mmff.

the mtrcb has done it again. and by that, i mean, proving that they are a bunch of morons. there is a reason why films are classified according to content. g for kid-safe movies, pg for movies that need parental attention, and r for adults-only movies. so, i dont understand why there is a need for r-rated movies to have some scenes cut out in the worst possible way before they are shown in theaters. but the real point of this paragraph is the showtime issue which, no matter how they say it isn't, smells fishy. a male host from the rival network of rip-offs has been saying way more insulting remarks and i havent heard him suspended for a day. one showtime guest proclaims an offensive but valid argument and the whole show is order off the air, despite the self-regulatory move of kicking that guest out? the rival network's talk show in the same timeslot has been axed, by the way, due to irremediable ratings. so, yeah, there has got to be cash involved there somewhere. but even if there was not, fuck you, mtrcb and fuck you gma7.

normally this space gets a short closing paragraph of its own. but... that's it for now.