OK, you wanted to talk to me about my application, so here I am. I’m happy that we’re meeting face-to-face like this. I come across much better in person than I do on paper. That’s true for most people, I think — except maybe Charles Manson. Haha. Sorry, that’s just a little dark humor. No law against that, is there? Oh, there is? Well, I haven’t been keeping up with the news lately.
Anyway, let me just anticipate your concerns and address them one by one. First of all, you’re probably uncomfortable with my age. But I assume you’ve heard that 50 is the new 20. No? Well, you should get out more and stop spending so much time cooking gruel or whatever it is you feed these poor bastards. I mean, they are literally bastards, so you can’t tase me with your PC gun for that. Your face is very red, you should see my dermatologist. The man has the forehead of a fetal pig.
And don’t get the wrong idea. I am by no means “barren.” Women can have children well into their 80’s now, or so I’ve read when I click random pictures on my Yahoo home page. I have the uterus of a 30-year-old woman. I got it in Mexico, but only because the FDA has such a stick up its butt. I don’t see what the big deal is about people selling their organs to turn a buck. What did Adam Smith say about free markets? I have no idea, I’m asking you.
Anyway, no, I don’t have children of my own, or siblings, for that matter. Growing up, it wasn’t a big concern. To paraphrase Kanye West, only children are harder, better, faster, stronger. Yes, I quote him quite a lot. The man’s a misunderstood genius.
But now that I’m older, I see that not having children was a serious tactical error on my part.
I’m going to need a mother-in-law suite ASAP. Obviously that means adopting a baby is, unfortunately, not going to work for me. I just don’t have that kind of time. Plus, I hate babies. I mean, ew. I’m thinking 16, 17. Old enough to take care of itself, but young enough to ply with gifts and bribery in order to develop a strong sense of obligation. I’m also going to mention my Last Will and Testament frequently, which leaves everything to them, but only as long as I don’t die under mysterious circumstances or by foul play. In that case, everything goes to my local library. I don’t think those geeks have the balls or the upper-body strength to knock me off.
Love? Of course I’ll “love” the kid. Oh, you find my giant air quotes when I say the word “love” disturbing, do you? Look, Sparky, I’ve been married. Twice. Kids need to learn that all love is conditional. They can’t be sent out into the world thinking that everything is kittens and rainbow emojis. Life sucks, and part of that suckery is taking care of your elderly parent. Which would be me.
So, how do we do this? You line them up and I pick one, or what?