There’s nothing I like better in the world than wallowing in children’s piss. To that end, we went on Saturday to a public swimming pool during the Kids Krazy session. I consider myself young-at-heart, but this was terrifying. You couldn’t move in the pool without being splashed or whacked with a garish polystyrene-based implement. Being in a large open area of water with nothing but hairless screaming bodies around me I was reminded of newly-born mice drowning painfully in a bucket of water. So seeing me clinging onto the edge with a frightened look on my face, Kirst asked if we should get out.
I’m getting older. I celebrated my 26th birthday a couple of weeks ago. I can no longer call myself early twenties; I’m officially in the realm of mid-to-late twenties. Luckily I still get ID’d for buying wine in Marks & Spencer’s, so I can pretend in my head that I am only 17 and just trying to get away with it.
I don’t though. I show them ID. I need to get drunk on cheap wine so I can forget I’m the hoary age of 26. It’s a vicious circle I don’t think will end until I start balding, get wrinkly, or start loudly complaining about the state of the country (never the world), being ungrateful, and getting in the way of people trying to walk at anything near the normal speed. If I can do this while smelling of stale urine and wearing a coat when it’s blindingly not necessary, I will be all the more convincing. Perhaps this will be an opportunity to revisit the swimming pool.
It’s the time in your life you start thinking about settling down. Friends of yours begin to get married, buy starter homes, host dinner parties, get a puppy. Semi-normal things. The best of friends start to see each other less and less, concentrating more and more on home life, paying for the mortgage, dinner parties with other marrieds, pretending the puppy is their own actual live child. Soon they’ll start breeding (together, not with the puppy; it’s a pedigree with questionable hips).
Nathan and Maria are likely to be the first couple I know to have kids. Ideally they’d have one of one sex, Kirst and I would have one of the other sex (I’m not picky who has the boy as long as they all go along with my plan), and we’d introduce them and… I don’t want to say “engineer” their relationship, but essentially that is the key. Once our collective children begin breeding themselves, I’d have finally realised my goal of mixing Nathan’s DNA with my own, along with contributions (which I could unfairly refer to as “Junk DNA”) from two girls. I had a conversation with Nathan about this, emphasizing the good points (that the final offspring would benefit from my intellect and charm, and with his… well, with whatever Nathan brought to the table.) I don’t believe this was enough to convince him. Or Maria. Or Kirst.
That thought, by the way, was excised from Nathan’s Best Man speech. It seemed to concentrate more on my right-wing homogenetic views than celebrating his happy partnership. Since then, my view on kids has matured. Now my plan is to have twins, keep one at home in a normal environment and release the other into the wild. We’d tag it electronically, of course, so we can keep an eye on it, and monitor how it survives alone on the cold Norfolk fields. Kirst says I’ve been watching too many programmes about feral children, but I contest that; I don’t think I’ve been watching enough. I need more ideas for the unfortunate second baby.
To growing up, I say “pah”. Now is the time for enjoying being a rejuvenile. Within reason. I was in W H Smiths and was in the process of purchasing a publication (”What was it?,” you ask, “.net magazine,” I reply. You look to me knowingly with new-found respect for my educated reading material. You applaud.) when the cashier asked if I was “at all interested in pre-ordering the new Harry Potter book?” “Not in the slightest!” came my sneered retort, and before I could launch into my anti-Potter soliloquy, the cashier hastily remarked that he couldn’t blame me.
- buy avandia
- buy avapro
- buy breast success
- buy cardura
- buy caverta
- buy celebrex
- buy cialis
- buy cialis soft tabs
- buy cipro
- buy clarinex
- buy claritin
- buy coreg
- buy coumadin
- buy cozaar
- buy crestor
- buy deltasone
- buy depakote
Then I went home and caught up on season 4 of Kim Possible. Wouldn’t mind her as a daughter. And when I say “daughter,” I mean “sexual partner”. Why do you taunt me Kim, why? Why do you offer yourself, saying I can “call you, beep you, if I wanna reach you, whenever I need you (baby)” then leave no number, nothing? I’ve looked at every episode, frame by frame and zilch. Explain to me, what’s the sitch?
swimming pool, babies, 26, birthday, ageing, marriage, rejuvenile, old age, harry potter, kim possible
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