Maybe someday
Walked down to Times Square from the UWS to catch the da Vinci exhibit.
That’s a whole entry there but just lemme say that: (a) there was a time when religion, science, and art went together and (b) it strikes me as really strange that the same country that gave us da Vinci gave us the people on the Jersey Shore.
Speaking of giving us people, Bryson came by with his fatty today and she was the cutest thing. Make’s me think about having a kid myself. Then again, can barely take care of George and Harold. Still, think all guys start thinking about cranking out a few rug rats roundabout this time.
As I told you before, Bryson’s no joke – took the bronze at the Pan-Americans. But something about a kid mellows a fella out.
Cooked him up some wings and we kicked back a beer as she drooled happily all over him.
Then had dinner with a buddy that owns this jaw-dropping 4,400 SF pad and four kids a few blocks from me.
It’s cool, seeing your friends become men.
Like I said, maybe I’ll get a fatty of my own some day.
Location: three blocks away
Mood: stuffed
Music: Sleep tonight And may your dreams Be realized
3 replies on “Fatty of my own”
I think from personal experience that 36 seems to be the golden age that men start thinking maybe they want a few rug rats. That gives me some time before my hubby bugs me about the kidlets. I am not sure I'll ever be ready.
From what I'm told, no one's ever ready, per se. You're just slightly more ready at some ages than you are at others.
[…] Because the only thing I ever wanted wasn’t accolades, fame, or fortune. All I ever wanted was to be known as a good writer and a family/fatty to call my own. […]