As you can guess from father's recent leave of absence request from the New England Patriots' pre-season, I am going to be born any day now. The birth really is more of a formality at this point, but I think it best that I arrive just like everyone else does - the regular joe sixpack, so to speak. Though I will be born with an actual defined six-pack and biceps like well-fed pythons.
As for the rumors of the Umlaut purchasing a gift for mother, I can assure you that this is not the case, at least not completely. She did send a gift - a lumpy rock that she called a "famlee airloom" Her instructions:
If you wan your tom brady bebeh to be big soopermodul, geeve the bebeh dis rock to eated. It makes so the bebeh iz not hongry for yeers!
She went on to say that once she got more well known in modeling she stopped using the stone to prevent hunger and switched to ingesting prophylactics. Mostly for the convenience factor, I assume. Seriously, I think she's brain damaged.
Also - from the Personal Complaint Dept:
Do you know how hard it is to get good quality gunpowder in here these days? And lighting a fuse is more difficult than I thought it would be from inside my homemade womb-cannon. Oh and I had to totally reconfigure the hinges on the exit, which opened inward. It was a goddamn firetrap if you asked me.
to me with a note that said, "reminds me of you! :)"
I chuckled, then killed him with my mind.
Growth Note: My knuckles crack in major chords