Pregnancy freaks me out. I know it’s beautiful, I know that. But still. #aliens
I don’t like sharing food. Not even with the significant other that I don’t have. If I order something, I plan on eating all of it. No grubby fingers allowed.
From what I’m told, they never stop crying. There’s only room for one bitch in my household, and that is me.
I have a very real fear that I would lose it. Not like have a miscarriage, but that I would actually misplace my own child.
One of my Christmas presents this year was a Barbie Doll.
I couldn’t even take care of a puppy.
I’m a sound sleeper. In all seriousness, someone could probably break into my house, steal all of the valuables that I do not have, and I would sleep right through it.
All of my houseplants are dead.
I don’t really like children. I mean, I’m sure I will like love my own, but as far as the randoms? Not so much.
I’m selfish and I don’t feel bad about that.
I am running behind on life by about 15 minutes. Seriously, I have never been on time to anything ever. How late would I be if I had a baby?
I think that I could still benefit from a babysitter. As in, for myself.
I’m not married. Or in a long term relationship. Or a short term relationship. Or…anything. The closest thing I have to a significant other is my cubicle mate.
I do not, in fact, believe all babies are beautiful. That one may come back to bite me in the ass, but so be it. Some are really ugly.
They change everything. Including your body.
Babies steal the attention. No one cares if you got a promotion or, I don’t know, got side bangs. They just care that your little brat can hold it’s own head up. COOL. I’ve been doing that for 23 years, but, whatever.
I have the mouth of a sailor.
My “Water Baby” baby doll had to be thrown out because I forgot to change her water and she grew mold. I’m scared to think about what would could possibly happen to a real child.
Sometimes I spend all of Sunday in nothing but a ratty t-shirt and underwear. You know what they call parents who do that? Inmates.
Children are expensive. I can’t even afford myself.
My parents would NOT be happy about a pregnancy announcement right now.
…neither would any of the potential fathers.
Nine months without drinking? LOL.
I’ve slept in my contacts for the past eight days straight. I don’t know if that necessarily has anything to do with children, but it’s definitely not responsible.
The other day, I told someone that I didn’t think the name “Topanga” was really that bad. TOPANGA.
I still ask my dad for money.
For dinner last night, I ate a Lean Cuisine, a handful of Skittles, and two bottles of wine.
I don’t want spit-up all over my clothes.
You know what’s funny about giving birth? Nothing. Nothing is funny about giving birth.
I’ve been either drunk or hungover for the past seven years.
I live in a one bedroom apartment…that I rent.
I thought Chuck Norris was a serious presidential candidate. Again, with the responsibility thing.
I really don’t feel like getting fat…ter.
The only thing that needs nursing is the hangover I’m currently trying to hide from my coworkers.
I watch cartoons for my own enjoyment. Furthermore, I don’t really feel like sharing my Spongebob slippers.
My current role model is Ke$ha, who is coincidentally in rehab at the moment.
Everyone I know would call Child Protective Services.
Catie struggles with adulthood and has been celebrating her 21st birthday for the past three years. She attended college in the nation’s capital and to this day is angry that Pit Bull lied to her, as you cannot, in fact, party on The White House lawn. Prior to her success with PGP, Catie was most famous for being featured in her hometown newspaper regarding her 5th grade Science Fair Project for which she did not place. In her spare time, she enjoys attributing famous historical quotes to Marilyn Monroe and getting in fights with thirteen year olds on twitter. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org