Baby, baby

Since today is Labor Day, I figured that the best way to celebrate the day would be by, well, laboring. Using that word is a bit too generous however since all I've managed to work on today is to have received two phone calls and send one email. One of the phone calls that I received was from the other person in my department unfortunate enough to work today informing me that she was "tired all get out" and would not be coming in.

My ass is tired, too. You know where I am? I'm in my cube earning time and a half, that's right! But that's not the point.

Also, I don't think that having built a fort out of your desk and various other office supplies counts as work as it relates to my profession. It looked pretty good, though, when I finished. I'm quite the talented fort builder, I must say.

I want to talk about babies. That's right. Babies. They're like inebriated midgets who roll around on the ground. You know what I'm talking about. I figure with the actual birthing process being called "labor" and today sharing that same moniker, I might as well...

I'm getting past the point in my life when my friends are starting to get married. I've been in and to plenty of weddings. Strangely enough, I am not much of a fan of weddings. Receptions are great though. Receptions with mashed potato bars are even better. Better than a reception with an open alcohol bar? Indeed. By this point in time, if you can afford a mashed potato bar, you most certainly have sprung for an open alcohol bar. This doesn't change the fact that I still may make a trip to the bathroom to do shots of whiskey out of mouthwash cups but that's neither here nor there.

Where was I? Oh, yes... past weddings. I'm getting to the age when most of my married friends are either getting divorced or having kids. This is much less strange to me than the whole marriage thing. Why? I have no idea but I don't feel a sense of malaise with it all. Plus, kids have birthday parties and that means I get invited over for free cake and ice cream and I don't have to wear a suit and tie to make it happen. Maybe it's just the suit and tie that I hate. I don't know. I'm not Dr. Scientist. I haven't done research.

I am revelling in bachelordom. It's nice. No in-laws, no trips to Bumfuck, Indiana, for Thanksgiving, not worrying about filing my taxes as either "married, filing jointly" or "married, filing seperately". None of that. Plus, my roommate cleans the bathroom almost incessantly. All I have to do is remember to put the toilet seat down. We even sleep in different rooms. It's practically like we're married! Sorry, Brandal... That was weird. Not as weird as me running around the house in my underpants and practicing karate moves but that's what dudes do. And as long as every woman I meet can handle me doing amateur ju-jitsu, I'm okay with it.

I don't think babies complicate friendships any further. Weddings do. If one of my friends were to get married to a total jackass, I'd have to do a whole hell of a lot more work to keep being their friend. If same friend married to said jackass has a kid, I'm probably out of the picture pretty early. Just like Emilo Estevez in Mission Impossible except for I wouldn't be crushed against the top of an elevator shaft. Well, probably not, anyway.

So to all my friends who are having babies... Please stop. You're making me look bad in front of my mom who oh, so desperately wants to be a grandma. Really, that's what all of this was about.

Mashed potatoes sound pretty good right about now...