Don't Call Me Mama

This past weekend I saw my extended family. My relatives were trying to tell me that I should have a child. I like that my family is progressive and doesn’t think I need to be married first or anything. I tried explaining to them how my life isn’t really conducive for child raising. First off, I have a dearth of money and babies need parents who can afford to feed them. I live with two roommates and have no place for a crib or anything. Yes, my bed is 3 feet off the floor on cinderblocks, so technically I could fit a bassinet under there; however, I have my bike gear and some luggage stored there, so there is no room for a baby or bassinet. And let’s just say for argument sake I come into gobs and gobs of money, or even just a gob of money, I’d be able to feed and shelter the baby, but I’d still be a stand-up comedian, a stand-up comedian without a husband. (Husband: another word for free baby-sitter/sex slave)What am I going to do? Take my child with me to a bar every night. You know how bar patrons hate when children infiltrate their safe haven. And, should a child be exposed to the behind the scenes action of stand-up comedy? You’d hear me ask the kid, “So what do you think should I end the joke with cock or dick? Which one do you think is funnier?”