Babies are like yeast breast.
The man is the yeast while the woman is the sugar, the water, the eggs, the flour, and the oven all bundled into one. This is not genetically correct of course, seeing as the 46 chromosomes that come together to form an embryo are comprised of 23 from the man and 23 from the woman. However, from the minute that bun is stuck in the oven, women proceed to harbor, protect, nourish, develop, and birth the baby. Men just squirt and go; afterwards, they can kick back, relax, and watch that sports game on TV. All they have to harbor, protect, nourish and develop is their beer bellies. Of course the picture I've painted is blatantly stereotypical & mainly serves as a verbal shudder at the thought of the very probable reality that I've come to fear. My man will become fat. He will watch TV shows that do not interest me. He will not have to suffer through childbirth... I will. And, going back roughly to my previous topic, he will have an overactive libido.
Now, a voracious sex drive is not necessarily a bad thing. If my perpetual significant other, or husband, or whatever he may be is highly desirable both physically and mentally, then I'm sure my libido will match his and I will be ready to throw decency, caution, and presentable clothing to the wind at every waking opportunity for babyless lovemaking. Or babyful, when the time comes. Hopefully the insertion of a man's yeast into my bread dough will be as conscious and purposeful as clicking "Try For Baby" rather than "Woohoo," in classic Sims fashion, and hopefully the pregnancy will be announced by signs as clear as a 6-note lullaby and that little thought bubble with a pacifier and a question mark. But perhaps not. -- In which case I'll nip that embryo in the bud. This is a major reason why I initially dismiss extremist Republican platforms; how the elk could I ever support a politician who believes in snatching away women's reproductive rights? Who cares if Catholicism says contraception is wrong? Well, Catholics, I guess. + Republicans. Is there a notion that religious people abide by a stricter moral code than agnostics or atheists? If there is, then it would be just that, a notion.
It sucks that metabolisms slow down so much during sleep, because this means that I'm just as full of three slices and 700 calories worth of pizza at 9 PM as I was at 6 PM; so, I won't be hungry for girl scout cookies for at least another two hours. Damnation and hellfire. But I digress...
The man is the yeast while the woman is the sugar, the water, the eggs, the flour, and the oven all bundled into one. This is not genetically correct of course, seeing as the 46 chromosomes that come together to form an embryo are comprised of 23 from the man and 23 from the woman. However, from the minute that bun is stuck in the oven, women proceed to harbor, protect, nourish, develop, and birth the baby. Men just squirt and go; afterwards, they can kick back, relax, and watch that sports game on TV. All they have to harbor, protect, nourish and develop is their beer bellies. Of course the picture I've painted is blatantly stereotypical & mainly serves as a verbal shudder at the thought of the very probable reality that I've come to fear. My man will become fat. He will watch TV shows that do not interest me. He will not have to suffer through childbirth... I will. And, going back roughly to my previous topic, he will have an overactive libido.
Now, a voracious sex drive is not necessarily a bad thing. If my perpetual significant other, or husband, or whatever he may be is highly desirable both physically and mentally, then I'm sure my libido will match his and I will be ready to throw decency, caution, and presentable clothing to the wind at every waking opportunity for babyless lovemaking. Or babyful, when the time comes. Hopefully the insertion of a man's yeast into my bread dough will be as conscious and purposeful as clicking "Try For Baby" rather than "Woohoo," in classic Sims fashion, and hopefully the pregnancy will be announced by signs as clear as a 6-note lullaby and that little thought bubble with a pacifier and a question mark. But perhaps not. -- In which case I'll nip that embryo in the bud. This is a major reason why I initially dismiss extremist Republican platforms; how the elk could I ever support a politician who believes in snatching away women's reproductive rights? Who cares if Catholicism says contraception is wrong? Well, Catholics, I guess. + Republicans. Is there a notion that religious people abide by a stricter moral code than agnostics or atheists? If there is, then it would be just that, a notion.
It sucks that metabolisms slow down so much during sleep, because this means that I'm just as full of three slices and 700 calories worth of pizza at 9 PM as I was at 6 PM; so, I won't be hungry for girl scout cookies for at least another two hours. Damnation and hellfire. But I digress...
And I digress from my digression. A main purpose of stretching after slumber is to jump start the flow of all that lymph that has been lazing around in your body for the entire night (or the entire 2.5 hours of unplanned, dream-ridden naptime while curled up next to your Beagle in her dog bed, in my case). Supa' coo', supa' coo'.
... Seeya in two hours, thin mints. In the meantime, I will sing yearnful* Beatles songs... or rather type them and sing them in my head in the hopes that you will know the melodies and sing them in your head as well. In that moment, we will be connected in the only way that we will connect with the majority of the other people who have or will have inhabited this Earth: not by time or place, but by culture. Approximately 106,456,367,669 people have lived on the Earth. Out of this colossal number, you've only known, what, a couple hundred of them? Each and every one of those people had hopes, wants, dreams, likes, dislikes, victories, failures, skills, relationships, emotions, a birth, a death.** But they weren't special. They were so unspecial in fact, that we don't give them more than a fraction of a thought. Why should we? I mean, they were no Gandhi. They were no Martin Luther King, or Adolfe Hitler, or Albert Einstein, or KevJumba -- assuming you know who Kevjumba is. I LOVE ASIAN DADS SO MUCH. But I'll leave the subject of Asian dadship and interracial babies for a later time.
Do not fret, an in-depth discussion of wasians and wilipinos (?) and half-elves and half-nymphs and puppykittens and all sorts of wonderful hybrids will occur in good time. The evening is young and ripe with possibility! The possibility of... girl scout cookies (It wont be long, yeah, yeah, yeah). But! To revisit my rant about All the People Who Have Ever Lived: so they remain an insignificant blip, just a miniscule part of the unfathomable mass of people used to deduce historic trends and analyze the evolution of human institutions and psyche. And this is how most of us will live and die, with names markedly absent from the history books. You'll carve out your puny existence and most of the over 100 billion other people that have lived or will live will never have the faintest idea that you existed. But you know you exist. And that's all that matters. Right?
Do not fret, an in-depth discussion of wasians and wilipinos (?) and half-elves and half-nymphs and puppykittens and all sorts of wonderful hybrids will occur in good time. The evening is young and ripe with possibility! The possibility of... girl scout cookies (It wont be long, yeah, yeah, yeah). But! To revisit my rant about All the People Who Have Ever Lived: so they remain an insignificant blip, just a miniscule part of the unfathomable mass of people used to deduce historic trends and analyze the evolution of human institutions and psyche. And this is how most of us will live and die, with names markedly absent from the history books. You'll carve out your puny existence and most of the over 100 billion other people that have lived or will live will never have the faintest idea that you existed. But you know you exist. And that's all that matters. Right?
^ Sex in the bread world
*This is not a real word.
**This sentence does not use correct parallel sentence structure. I despise the subtle nuances of grammar... the ones that I don't use automatically, at least. Struggle and inaptitude = dislike... which is a concept that can be applied in a variety of cases.
Bread art is cool!
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