Clearly, We Used My Egg
So yesterday was Bestie’s birthday. Another reason we are so tight…..our birthdays fall in the same week. Horoscope nonsense and all.
Husband was working so we decided to round up another pal and treat ourselves to brunch. And treat ourselves we did:
I can’t express to you what it’s like to eat a 60 dollar breakfast. Other than bliss. True gluttony. And pure satisfaction. It also is rather hard on the wallet, which is why we usually opt for the 10.99$ Smitty’s special, but yesterday was important. We needed to eat.
The brunch itself is in a fancy downtown hotel, and Grandma happens to live in the adjacent apartment building, so I dropped off the little people to her, because there was no way I was dealing with peed pants and bullshit when I had serious eating to do.
After we were done being fat, we toddled over to Grandma’s to pick up the kids. Now understand, Bitches, that this is a senior’s building. And I have to tell you something about Bestie.
She’s kinda brown.
So the debate of the day became whether or not people were watching us with the kids, and wondering:
Is she the nanny or the wife?
And I think the answer lies in who your audience is. Watching Bestie with my children should lead anyone to think that she could possibly be a parent to my kids. Because sometimes she is much nicer to them than I am. Sometimes she catches things that I don’t.
However, in the nice downtown senior’s complex, it probably never occurred to the residents there that two women could make babies together. And due to the inherent, unintentional racism that happens in the older generations, they probably assumed she was the nanny.
We went to a petting zoo. It involved a lot of waiting in line for pony rides and petting farm animals. And it was super fun until Buddy fell over and injured his face on a goat’s horn. Then it was times to go.
In this scenario, I’m pretty sure everyone thought we were a couple. Bestie was hoping for that as the Destroyer tantrumed on the way out and made it look like she was kidnapping this blond haired blue eyed child that clearly in no way came from one of her eggs. So we’re pretty sure that everyone there assumed we were lesbians who found some Viking sperm to mix with my Irish blood to produce an insanely beautiful, but insane little see-through fair skinned human.
Clearly we used my egg.
I super love fucking with people. We should have held hands or something.
But maybe (hopefully) this just isn’t a big deal anymore. Hopefully people saw us and wondered nothing. Hopefully, if they assumed we were a couple all they saw were happy kids (minus the “goating” accident) and a nice family.
Because it’s 2014 people. Nannies are usually Filipino now.
I’m gonna really hear about it for that last joke, aren’t I?
Anyway happy birthday, Bestie. I’m gonna go shake off my hangover now.