Today, to me, irony is when the sister of your boyfriend, an epidemiologist by trade, brings her typhoid ridden child to dinner and sits it next to you. Not ironic (ironic being that which is unexpected) is when the kid coughs all over your 30 dollar plate of food*. Even LESS unexpected is the fact that I am now nursing a case of the plague.
I want to say I don't even like kids, but Barbara Kingsolver made me feel bad about saying that out loud. blah blah future of our world, blah blah blah. I hate Barbara Kingsolver. That helped a little.
*yes, I still ate it. HN convinced me nothing got on my food and the restaurant didn't have a "my boyfriend's sister's sick kid just booged on my shit" refund policy. It was good too.
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I want to say I like kids. Healthy, well mannered kids. The kind that have creepo eyes and eat things like shoes. You are allowed to make really cool jackets out of them and let's face it, when the females grow up and you drink their milk people don't go all omg you have a fetish issue and now we all think you are a freak but we're going to pretend to like you to your face lest we all come across as judgmental and push you into a spot where you remind us of something we do that brings us unsurmountable shame. Because, they're right, I would. :D
Also, sick children are gross and should be quarantined.
The End
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