Monday, October 30, 2006
The Teaches of Neeches
At long last, I’m beginning to grasp why women get so annoying about their babies. This Saturday, I picked up my "baby", and I can safely say he is now pretty much my sole reason for living. His name is Nietzsche, and he is amazing. Unlike a real baby, growing inside you and using up all your nutrients until you’re too weak to move much in the way a cancer would, Nietzsche came fully formed from the breeder!
Have you ever thought to yourself… 'I sure would love to own something that looks exactly like an alien and feels just like a gigantic testical and has claws'? So have I, and now I do.
Nietzsche’s favorite activities include: Attempting to eat my eyeballs, trying to "milk" me, eating, pooping, and taking naps over my nose and mouth so I can’t breathe. He also likes trying to fit his tiny, warm, wrinkly head in my mouth when I yawn.
After picking him up, I took him home to meet my family. My mother referred to him as her grandson, my father told me he was the most disgusting creature he had ever seen, and Big Big couldn’t have cared less about the cat... however she did form an instant emotional bond with the Louis Vuitton carrying case he came in... which she cradled and petted and asked if she could name.
The thing about Nietzsche that kind of creeps me out a bit... and it’s not his glowing green eyes or webbed feet... is that he looks at me in a very odd way. It’s not the expression he has in this picture, which is adorable and clearly says "I will soon shed my mortal form and return to the bowels of Hell", this is a totally different look, and he only does it when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s this desperate look that seems to say "I’m going to control myself, but if I had my way I would devour you whole right this second." It’s exactly the way my mother looks at a plate of tacos. Pretty creepy.
In addition to getting my baby, this weekend was also the ten year anniversary of my father’s death. Ten years ago Sunday, my father died after his second massive heart attack. He had a party yesterday to commemorate the event. I imagine he celebrated by eating a chicken fried steak wrapped in brownies while chain smoking.
He was only dead for a few minutes, but he did see the light and his dead ancestors and all, so I guess it counts. I was deeply traumatized because going to the hospital seriously cut in to my workout time. After the whole thing was over, he became extremely religious and really reprioritized his life to make time for the stuff that matters most.
He was like a changed man.
That was a really nice week and a half. By November he was back to planning for the inevitable day when the Blacks revolt. Sure is nice to have him around.
Posted by Carmela Machiato at 2:33 PM