OK, Second Time is a Charm

I'm sorry - July 20 came and went, and I definitely did not come or go, but stayed. Things did not go according to plan, and the air compressor I fashioned to shoot me like a cannonball of miracles from mother's womb was undone through a faulty hose - a part impossible to replace quickly. I just knew I should have used some of mother's small intestine instead, but I feared that removing it might alter the fact that when she farts it smells like fresh-cut lilacs.

Anyway, the unintended result is that all of the talk surrounding my arrival eclipsed the Umluat's birthday almost as much as the actual event would have (but not as much, because actual eclipses, both solar and lunar, will coincide with my birth). And I am positively marinating in the sweet fact that she will get to experience it all over again, when I actually do enter this world.

Father, Mother, and I are all making our final preparations for the real thing. Soon you will know my name, my gender, and then some pictures that may stun you with beauty, or may just cause you to sigh knowing something so pure is in the world. Either way, you will defintely conclude that Shiloh was just a hunk of rancid whale meat compared to me.

Growth Note: My footprint is a small scale version of Da Vinci's The Last Supper

Today is Like Any Other

I'm trying to go about my day as if tomorrow isn't such a big deal. I just want to make sure I leave the place they way I found it. Leave it to me: prophet of sexiness and athleticism unrivaled, future thrower of footballs into space, 5 star Soduko player, he/she who is destined to unite the world through genetics alone - leave it to me to get so distracted and leave the oven on or something. I'd be so embarrassed. Those Inside Track harlots would have a field day.

So tomorrow I shall be indisposed for part of the day, but I will be in touch. Do those neonatal units have wireless? They fucking better.

Growth Note: I do not breathe air but inhale hopes, dreams, prayers, and secrets and exhale pure fate.

What a Coincidence

Of all the days I should choose to free myself of my uterine lodgings, it just happens to be the Umlaut's birthday! I mean, who could have possibly predicted this (hint: me!)? The birth of a new world savior to the two most beautiful people on the planet will be covered in print, radio, television, internet, word of mouth, morse code, and that tongue-clicking language of stereotyped tribes. Imagine - a singular world event that manages to damn any other reason for celebrating that day for anyone, regardless age, sex, race or creed. So I'm guessing... just guessing, it will turn the Umlaut's 27th birthday into a meaningless and irrelevant occaision, relegated to the kind of celebration one has for a parking ticket or full cavity search.

It's not like her birthday would have been worth celebrating anyway. She just wanted to throw a party so there would be more wallets to steal, and men-who-are-destined-for-greatness to hypnotize. Plus everyone would have to wear galoshes or somehow avoid stepping in her puddles of drool.

Oh hey Umluat! Great Party (not)! Would you mind breathing through
your nose for awhile so we don't drown in your drool?

In the end though, we will share a day of birth - an important day for each of us that acknowledges our entrance to the human world and into circumstances that define who we are and who we are to become. It is a singular association that cannot be erased, like the scar upon young Harry Potter's head that forever connects him to the evil Lord Voldemort. Only in this case, Voldemort is a rapidly aging, uneducated and emaciated Brazilian minx, who breathes through her mouth and is likely mentally handicapped. Seriously, she would bust out a booty-dance when Taps is played at a military funeral. Oh zeez hoarns! Oh how zey cauz me to wiggle ze boom-boom!

Growth Note: My bone marrow is composed of 1/2 liquid nitrogen and 1/2 attitude.

I'm Thinking About Breaking My Lease

Sure I just had the place redone not that long ago, but to be honest I feel like I've literally outgrown this place. It didn't seem so small back then, but you know as you accumulate more material goods, everything seems a bit more cluttered. I admit it, I'm somewhat of a pack rat.

I will also concede that my tastes have evolved quite a bit. Much like the bottles full of highlighter-water in your dorm room against the black light (no, those really were cool. Seriously. I promise) that are one day replaced by a collection of strange beer bottles demonstrating your drinking prowress, I too feel a need to better express myself and claim my identity. So with that in mind, my plan is to break my 12 month lease and move in with my parents in the next week or two. You know, until I can get on my feet.

Then the world is mine.

Growth Note: The cleft in my chin rivals the world's deepest fjords, trenches, and gorges - filled with secrets both ancient and dark.