oh, I'm back, man. and good heavens...

Sheeeeit, it’s been a while, eh? Yeah, sure has. Well, here’s the thing: I’ve had a hell of a week. I’ve been doing some light recording and finding out important information regarding my future.
See, for the last couple of months, my wife’s just been getting bigger and bigger and finally, we said ‘fuck it’ and went to the doctor. Turns out she’s got a whole entire human girl baby growing inside her. What the fuck? I thought she was just kinda letting shit slide, though now that I think about it, I haven’t seen her have a drink since her birthday, which, well, that’s unusual I guess. Oh well. Hindsight and all that. So yeah, we found out all about this condition on Tuesday, which was pretty fun and then we went to an office party, which was LAAAAAAAAME, because no one got stupid and pulled out their tits or anything. Plus, they only served gin and sliders. That’s not an office party, that’s a death camp. To top it off, the chick I was talking to all night turned out to be pregnant. Ick.
Monday and Wednesday I went to my friend Justin’s house for a little recording sesh. I don’t know how much I’m at liberty to really spill the beans on this, so lets just say this is just a little project that’s ultimately gonna be fun to listen to but not really a big deal at all. I mean, you’ve already heard all these songs before. Granted, they’ve never been quite this awesome before, but well…yeah. Like I said, I’ll give you details as my overlords give the signal that it’s time.
Otherwise, I’ve been chilling. Gearing up for the holidays and all that. You guys know what you’re getting me for Christmas? I don’t want another two hundred candy cane dildos like last year. I’m still writing thank you notes for those.
Um, what else? Jesus, you’d think that the first two items on the agenda would fill up more space, right? Well, okay, here goes:
We were POSITIVE we were gonna have another boy. When the lady told us it was a girl, I think I blew a circuit in my brain. I seriously couldn’t even think or speak for like two hours. All our best laid plans were ruined. Names, for example. We don’t have girl names, or girl pajamas or girl toys or any idea how to change a girl’s diaper. I mean with a boy, you could, as I understand it, pack them beneath a solid inch of shit right up to their necks and essentially just hose em off and they’ll be fine. With a girl, jesus, you sneeze and she’s got an infection. Right? I don’t know, man. It's super duper cool, but it's also super duper complicated. Argh. Now that fucking Avril Lavigne song is in my head. man...
What if she’s ugly? Worse, what if she’s hot? I mean, good lord. All I know is that I have to pay attention to her because girls who get ignored by their dads wind up in the movies. And I’m not talking about Gone With the Wind here, people. I’m talking Fuck My Throat 29. AND, while I’m a firm believer in the benefits of the sex industry in general and I’m in no way trying to judge people who choose to work in it, I’ve got this lingering evolutionary tic that’s preventing me from wanting my daughter to be a porn actress. Remember when Chris Rock said that if you’re the dad of a little girl, you’ve got one job: Keep ‘em off the stripper pole? Yeah. Well, that’s true. It is. I mean, again, I’ve got nothing at all against strippers. Lord knows they’re doing, well, the lord’s work, but there’s just something between theory and practice that I can’t quite put my finger on that’s keeping me from being able to sign off on that just now. Maybe it’s because this particular daughter of mine is still so young. I mean, she’s negative five months at this point, so, maybe when she gets older, I’ll turn around on the whole thing and stop being so uptight, but for now, sheesh. I’m already paying attention to her in utero, asking her about her day and shit. AND, just like a fucking female child, she’s already ignoring me.
This shit is impossible. I’ve got enough to worry about. Justin’s coming into my work today with his mix of this new recording, which I did in a slightly unorthadox way, and if ultimately I’m not happy with it, I’m gonna feel like a grade A heel for thinking I could pull this all off so cavalierly.
Okay, you know what? This is all making me real nervous, so just forget we talked. I’ll holler at you guys tomorrow.
Um, yup. Cool.
Later.