FEAR THIS FACE!!

So, I need a picture of myself for a webzine for which I'll be writing; http://toywithme.com. While looking through pictures of my family and random stuff I have, I found pictures of my G-dchild. Sure, she LOOKS adorable, but this is actually the face of PURE EVIL. She has me and my husband wrapped around her little finger. OMG, he ADORES this child like she was his own. At her 1st birthday party, we were there for 2 hours: he took 400 pictures of her.

Seriously.

We're obsessed.

Behold: my honey-bear!!

FEAR THE CUTENESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The cats stay. You can get the fuck out...

I just got off the phone with my dad earlier in the day. He called to let me know that he was coming back from his Asthma specialist, and had asked the doctor a few questions for me.

First of all, who the fuck asked you to talk about me with anyone else? I get that he was trying to be nice, but he and I have a bit of a strained relationship still, and I don't really appreciate this, considering where it ended up heading.

He tells the doctor I have cats, and because he is OBSESSED with using my uterus as the portal through which his grandchildren shall emerge (pretty much to replace the children my bat-shit crazy sister won't let him see) he asks about the possibility of my children having asthma.

Guess the fuck what? It's a 50/50 shot.

So what does he say? Oh I should be careful because if/when the husband and I have kids, then they could have asthma and it could be made worse by the fact that we have cats.

Those of us who have asthma know two things:

1. If you sanitize your home to the point where there are no allergens, then your body reacts MORE violently to them than if you'd be exposed all along. Of course this isn't true for some things like peanut allergies. Duh. But for MILD (MILD, DAMMIT!) asthma, there is no reason a child cannot grow up around TWO cats. Not 52, just two.

2. Each case of asthma is different, and you have to learn your own triggers. I have a very low-grade asthma. Yes, I have an inhaler, but unless I am sick or tired, I RARELY get an attack. The only reason I had an attack while in Comic's car coming home from the Phreak was because HipChick and I had only slept about 5 hours after all the talking and cleaning of bits was done.

So, in conclusion dad, the husband and I agree that we actually like our cats better than we like you. They don't talk, they don't annoy us, and most of all, they have warm fuzzy bellies. You have none of these, AND we have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn so that you can go to Synagogue EVERY. FUCKING. MORNING.

G-D isn't awake at 5am, dad.

Cats=Win

Dad=Fail

Even if I have to take allergy meds for the rest of my life, they STILL win.

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