I Like My Eggs Fertilized

10/9/07

I’m pretty sure most people are brain damaged. How else can you explain the reaction human beings have whenever someone announces they are having a baby? Naturally the most vocal on the subject fall into that most disturbing of categories, the unwed, middle-aged office lady who is way too attached to her pets. These people are so rife with unrequited love that, were you ever to actually allow their drooling insanity within spitting distance of your child, you’ll have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they aren’t sprinting for the parking lot with your progeny.

Why is the announcement of your very average and normal ability to fertilize an egg a cue for automatic congratulations? I mean, I get it if you’ve got like one ovary, have been trying for a year, or have been using hobo sperm and a turkey baster or something, but what precisely is interesting about the fact that you fucked and wound up preggers? Shit, stray dogs and poor people do that all the time, and they don’t seem all that impressive to me. I’m pretty sure something almost anyone can do is not grounds for immediate congratulations. And I can understand if you are the sort of baby-crazy psychotic who has been keeping your coworkers constantly updated with the status, cycle, and consistency of your uterus for the past 6 months. But other than that, it’s just weird. It’s like congratulating someone on their birthday. Hey, good work! Way to keep breathing this whole year!

Now I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be excited if someone in your family gets knocked up, (providing their not say, sixteen and really into knives,) but to be thrilled about a person you are forced to spend 40 hours a week with and never even think of unless you need to borrow some White-Out is venturing into Lunatic Land. Hooray! More people who will probably buy lottery tickets and go to Eddie Murphy movies and drive an SUV and cause me to repeat myself and just generally clog up the planet and judicial system while contributing nothing to society! Rejoice!

I guess I can give the women who are breaking this earth-shattering news a break; after all, you will eventually figure out that they are swelling to abnormal proportions, so it sort of makes sense for them to tell people about it. But there is no excuse for male coworkers to bring this up, given that we don’t know your wife/girlfriend/one-night-bang, don’t care about the fact that your nuts work properly, and can’t possibly imagine a situation where I would have to be privy to information about the spawn that fell out of your partner’s vagina. Great job with the sperm and everything, Carl, but how about we just go on pretending that we all wouldn’t rather be somewhere else and leave your germination skills out of the workplace, okey-dokie?

Wow. I must be in a particularly spiky mood this afternoon. Clearly, I’m advocating eating babies.