Sex Book on the Beach

  Have you had a chance to read Sperm Wars? It’s sooo good. I’ve learned a butt load of information about human sexuality behaviors. Or however I should of worded that last sentence.
Dude though. Don’t read this book. Ever. It made me so baby crazy. All I want to do is have a baby. Right away. I want to get pregnant right the fuck now. I want a baby so bad, so hard, so quick. Ugh. Gross.

Babies are the worst. I’m the worst when I’m pregnant. None of this shit is a good idea. I have no money, no job prospects, and in two months I’ll have no insurance. 

Having a baby right now is the worst idea ever. Plus, I’m getting to be too old to have a baby. It’s just such a shit idea. I need it to go away and never come back.

My brain keeps removing all my mental baby barriers. Babies are adorable. Babies smell so perfect. Babies make the cutest baby sounds. Babies are covered in pinch worthy fat rolls. Babies have fuzzy soft baby hair. 

No. Babies are expensive and pointless. Well, not pointless. The only way to ensure that your genes live into at least the next generation is to have a baby. The more babies you have the better you improve the gene survival odds. Having a girl guarrantes that the offspring she has actually carry your genes. Having a boy carries the chance that his offspring might not be his. Genetically speaking.

Or what if John Henry turns out to be gay? No judgment. Love is love. He can adopt. I will still have grandchildren. But my genetic contribution to the world will end. Which I never thought about, I mean really really thought about, until I read this book.  Ugh. Stupid book. Get out of my head. Fuck off with that weak ass baby sauce.

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