It’s official. Unless you live on Mars, are an invertebrate amoeba or have not yet reached speaking age, you know that this is a sonogram.
A sonogram is the picture derived from an ultrasound (technically, ultrasonography), which is cyclic sound pressure above the range of human hearing that allows computers and machines to form 2D and 3D images through flesh, muscle and bone.
And it’s really freakin’ cool, too. And kinda scary, as well. Not scary in that this image is frightening, but scary in that Sundi and I are, indeed, procreating. Or maybe it’s just scary that I’m going to be a pappy.
Coming March, 2008 – my offspring. Hide your children, lock up your valuables and, for your own sake, send me lots of money. Please! These freakin’ things are expensive, I hear.
And they are ticking time bombs – ticking, REPEATING time bombs. They go off 9 months after the drunken party, at which point you better have a room, clothes, diapers, crib, doody wipes and a desire not to sleep for 3 months all stored up. They then have repeating explosions throughout life – first day of school, field trips, puberty, driver’s license, graduation and, the kicker, college. You best be prepared, bitches, because they can go off at any time.
Plus, they shit their pants and puke on you. And that’s just rude.
So your worst fears are realized. I’m gonna be a daddy. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.