How was your day, Dan?
How was your day, Dan?: "Today I went to Target. I needed dog food and deoderant. The dogs were surviving off peanut butter on toast, and I was stinky. I grabbed a cart and proceeded to fill it with $242 of worthless home items.
While walking past the 'food' section--this isn't one of those supermarket Targets, it was just a few aisles filled with sodium and trans fats--I passed a strapping fellow, with a head full of corkscrew-blond hair buzzing in every direction from his head. His thick arms were covered in tattoos. He walked with a swagger. This is Austin, so I'm sure he was a musician of some sort, probably plays the bass guitar in a funk band. In one of his arms he carried the tiniest, sweetest little girl, with big blue eyes the size of golf balls. She was just perched up there, on his forearm, as he held her so gently, swinging her back and forth with the rhythm of his step, with her little bow on the side of her head. Just chillin.
I have so effectively prepared myself for the day when I can adopt, I look at parents and think about what it would be like if I got to raise their kids. I wait for the day when someone comes up to me and says 'I can't do this anymore. I think you'll do a better job than me. Here you go.' And that would be it. I wouldn't even miss a beat, we'd go buy some diapers and an Elmo doll or two and we would just go on with life. Right there, in the Target. And I would teach her to never, ever eat any of that nasty junk from the 'food' section. You need to respect yourself.
I bet that guy is a great dad. He looked like he would be a great dad, I could feel it. The craziest-looking people make great parents. Mohawks and tattoos, Harleys in the garage and drum sets in the basement, whatever. They're at peace, they know how to express themselves. They value a kid for his individuality, or what makes her special. And they're not afraid of what people think, which is the best thing you can teach to a little boy or girl. Value. Self-worth. Be beautiful, howe"
While walking past the 'food' section--this isn't one of those supermarket Targets, it was just a few aisles filled with sodium and trans fats--I passed a strapping fellow, with a head full of corkscrew-blond hair buzzing in every direction from his head. His thick arms were covered in tattoos. He walked with a swagger. This is Austin, so I'm sure he was a musician of some sort, probably plays the bass guitar in a funk band. In one of his arms he carried the tiniest, sweetest little girl, with big blue eyes the size of golf balls. She was just perched up there, on his forearm, as he held her so gently, swinging her back and forth with the rhythm of his step, with her little bow on the side of her head. Just chillin.
I have so effectively prepared myself for the day when I can adopt, I look at parents and think about what it would be like if I got to raise their kids. I wait for the day when someone comes up to me and says 'I can't do this anymore. I think you'll do a better job than me. Here you go.' And that would be it. I wouldn't even miss a beat, we'd go buy some diapers and an Elmo doll or two and we would just go on with life. Right there, in the Target. And I would teach her to never, ever eat any of that nasty junk from the 'food' section. You need to respect yourself.
I bet that guy is a great dad. He looked like he would be a great dad, I could feel it. The craziest-looking people make great parents. Mohawks and tattoos, Harleys in the garage and drum sets in the basement, whatever. They're at peace, they know how to express themselves. They value a kid for his individuality, or what makes her special. And they're not afraid of what people think, which is the best thing you can teach to a little boy or girl. Value. Self-worth. Be beautiful, howe"
posted by cockoholick at 10:18 AM
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