| Baby vomit kills the fantasy. |
[23 Sep 2011|09:11pm] |
I thought to myself today, Self, it would be so nice to have a family. Have some children. A house somewhere that our (my fictional husband) children can play out in the streets/front yard, be able to go walk to a friend's home without having to be handheld. Socializing with the neighbors...Children. My mind was swiftly changed after riding the metro and a baby threw up on me. I don't think I want to deal with that. It was hot. Stuffy. The baby wouldn't stop crying. The mother offered me a napkin but I could feel the sick seeping through my blouse it was disgusting. I couldn't get home quick enough and take a shower.
Babies shit. They're cute when people bring them to work but I don't know if I can take one home or want to. Maybe I'll change my mind if I actually meet a guy who wants to have kids. I think I could be happy either way. I can say that vomiting baby brought me back to reality and if I could thank it and if it had the ability to realize my appreciation I would do it. I'm a single woman. I live in a loft. I'm not even dating. The idea of raising a child alone does not sound like roses and sunshine.
Friday night in with a bottle of Cognac and Titus Andronicus. I might have to go out and see real people afterwards but for now it sounds like a nice way to spend the evening. Nice if you're into disgusting stories. Reading this back I sound like a prick. I am going to get drunk and read about cannibalism and mutilation before I go out tonight. That just makes me sound like a potential serial killer. Merde. Oh well. Prick or killer I don't know which is worse.
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[14 Sep 2011|10:34pm] |
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OOC. Here for the out of character-ness! Ahoy-hoy! :D
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