If you had the opportunity to ask Baton Bob one question, what would it be?
Oh right, I did.
This, babies, is my question of the day:
What ~one~ piece of advice do you wish someone had given you before you bought your home?
Better yet, what unsolicited advice did grumble at, but learn from?
Make sure your lender officer isn’t a twit? Run a sexual predator search (for potential compatibility)? Check for bats in the belfry?
This is Stacey. This is Stacy with her husband Andy. These are Stacey and Andy’s bellies.
Point of clarification: her belly is technically their belly because there’s a wee humanoid parasite growing in there and he had somethin’ to do with it.
When I found out they were with child, I offered this support to Stac: “I plan to the the auntie who always has gum in her purse, and I’ll be the one that gets it drunk the first time.” Incidentally, I offer this to all my pregnant friends. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, really. Irresponsible? Nah. The way I figure it, I’ll be responsible for making sure the critter never wants to touch booze again. Either way, Andy’s response went something like this when Ms. S relayed the message: “I figured.” Awwww kids, you really know how to touch a girls heart.
Among many other bits of wisdom I imparted on Ms. Thang was this: I will not be party to any foolishly named children.
This is especially important because up until the day of the animal / vegetable / mineral ultrasound, they were calling it by the name of a local roadway or something.
That said, I insisted that we form a child naming committee immediately to name our collective child. Today I invite you to participate with names you’ve seen or heard recently and thought “what the fuck? They must want their kids ass to get pounded on the playground”.
Give it to me. And skip the Ferris Bueller plumbers cousins neighbor at 31 Flavors stories, I too went to school with children named Justin Case and Joe King. I’ve also seen the inner-city school teacher e-mail with the names like Meconium. I want first hand don’t-make-me-slap-you names. To get you started, I’ll list a few names I jotted down as 6th grader, thinking they were be “cool”: Ehmjay Blue, Octobriana Shay and last but not least – Q. Don’t ask me why I remember them, because I have no intentions of multiplying or joining an 80′s retro band where I might be able to use them.
Now seriously, I need to be prepared for the first meeting of the What NOT to Name Your Baby committee. Bring it.