I havent cried since the first week of September 2012. I promised myself I wouldnt.
Ive seen ultrasounds of my baby, Ive heard his heart beat. Ive feared for his life.
But I havent cried. Leviathan is due next month. And because of you, I cannot show how much I care.
I just wish I could cry…
The correct term is babe or baby. Bae is not a word. Its probably some stupid typo from a cell phone keypad malfunction or operator error.
Id rather hear boo, than bae.
Why cant I, just once, be that one lucky person that just so happens to pass that nude photoshoot and porn filming they have outside in a park, or on the beach.
Why has no one just walked by one of those?
This is my latest tattoo. It’s a latin phrase, “Bibamus moriendum est.” Translated to, “Let us drink, for we must die.” It was a ceremonial prebattle style toast, and the originator is Horace. Or Seneca. I always get them mixed up. But it was quite the pain in the ass to take a picture to show the whole tattoo. Lol
Active followers. Someone to promote this blog or my parchmentofliquor.tumblr.com blog. :o
You know, to motivate me.
Ive grown so irate with my own country.
You have to be good at being broke to afford to be even more poor.
Our people kill each other more that other people kill us. Our terrorists are domestic, within our own government.
North Korea isnt a threat. We are just a country itching for war, to unite the people.
To disguise more freedom-killing laws.
I want to leave this country before it becomes a blood land. Congress isnt for the people anymore. Theyre against us.
What’s more inappropriate to tell someone who occasionally asks me why I’m walking weird. Do I lie and tell them I’ve got a wedgie, or do I tell them the truth and say that my balls are way too warm and I’m trying to air them out?
So, talking with Wendy and her family, I told them I wouldn’t lie to Leviathan (my baby boy on the way) and tell him that crap about Santa and Easter Bunnies and those traditional lies.
Wendy has this cackle style laugh. And then I had this vision of the future…
My little Leviathan, in kindergarten, telling the kids in his class that Santa isn’t real and making them cry, with his inherited cackle of a laugh…
Some things in life are just too entertaining.