So I’m on the London Underground today watching a mother get on with her totally “awkward phase” teenage daughter that’s wearing a similiar Aztec-print cardigan to mine and feeling like:
a) I’m so glad I know “my colours” because I remembered that when one is fourteen (and a half, JEEZ, MOM), sometimes one has yet to learn these things, and purchases of burgundy and black are the PRIMARK (or equivalent) staples of an otherwise ill-fitting wardrobe denoting “We’re not quite sure if the growth spurt has yet abate, so it’s hand-me-downs for you, Young Lady!” So glad I grew out of my (physically) awkward stage! Now to look forward to growing out of my (socially) awkward stage! LOLZ.
b) Moms is totally eyeing me up all “oh GREAT THIS is what I have to look forward to when I’M A GRANDMOTHER,” and I’m all “God, I’m SO GLAD I DON’T HAVE CHILDREN” and we’re sort of having this imaginary face-off in my head where she’s all like “One Day perhaps you will understand the true meaning of being complete as a WOMAN by performing your BIOLOGICAL DUTY” and I’m like “Yeah, that whole ‘ooh i’m a parent smugness’ doesn’t get old no matter how radical CARPOOL DUTY is, HUH?”
We have talked about this on nikkiawesome.com before. (I like that I said that as if I have a chat show, which in my head, I now totally DO, please see THIS VIDEO and mix it with high glamour – if that’s even more POSSIBLE.) I refer you to BABIES: WHO NEEDS ‘EM? (working title for the film) for my thoughts on offspringer spaniels and their reproductions, however, I was shocked to my foundations when I opened up the METRO to discover I have given birth to a child, who is 9 years old and residing in Texas.
Dear Readers, you are probably JUST as shocked as I (though probably not as inclined to notify Child Protective Sevices). I’ll give you a moment to process this, while I think of decorating my new baby’s bedroom with pop-art Warhol repro’s of me looking alternately surprised and new money-ish (is there any other way?), and turning my “FUCK OFF BACK TO ECONOMY” badges into diaper pins. Annnnnnnd we’re back.
The student, named only as Flint, promised Albert Ramon – a weatherman for local station KVUE – a place at his top table when he becomes ‘supreme Ultra-Lord of the universe’.
‘I will not make you a slave, you will live in my 200 story [sic] castle where unicorn servants will feed you doughnuts off their horns,’ Flint wrote.
‘I will personally make you a throne that is half platnum and half solid gold and jewel encrested [sic].’
The student, whose age is uncertain, proved he may have a career in creative writing ahead of him if either the meteorology or world domination do not work out as planned.
In fulsome praise, Flint said Ramon was ‘more awesome than a monkey wearing a tuxedo made out of bacon riding a cyborg unicorn with a lightsaber for the horn on the tip of a space shuttle closing in on Mars, while ingulfed in flames’.
Flint added: ‘And in case you didn’t know that’s pretty dang sweet.’
The letter, which has been shared, thousands of times online, also includes a drawing on the reverse of a unicorn presenting an enthroned figure with the words ‘your doughnuts, Master’.
Ramon, who posted the letter to his Facebook account, tweeted that the letter was genuine and sent with 30 others from Flint’s class.
‘His obviously stood out,’ Ramon added.
Web users have already created an artist’s impression of Flint’s praise for his weatherman hero, which has subsequently gone viral itself.
Now that I am officially a parent, I will begin my SMUGNESS: 2012 campaign, which I will be taking over from Angelina Jolie (Thanks babes!) since she has bigger fish to fry these days.
For the fucking WIN.